Sweet as pie was my little guy, now he's at Rainbow Bridge up in the sky.

I haven't blogged since the passing of my dear baby boy, Smokey. It's been an especially difficult time without him here. I've pretty much given up on life, gained all my weight back that I'd lost, my anxiety has flared up terribly -- it's been just plain crappy. There have been some bright spots however, a kitten was literally dumped on my doorstep a mere three weeks after Smokey's passing (that kitten was said to be three weeks old by the vet at that time too... creepy!). The kitten has six "toes" on both of his front paws, so that's pretty neat. My Wife and I have named him James Bandit A.K.A. Jimmy Six-Toes, and he has helped not only me, but Max (Smokey's best friend) and Kathlyn.

I go on and on about Smokey, but truth be told, his Sister Kendall is just as close to me and we have hurt a lot together these past months. Max was taking Smokey's death pretty darn hard, he would lie next to a spot that Smokey slept frequently, paw outstretched, head firmly pressed into the carpet. A few times he would find a spot where some of Smokey's fur still remained and begin to search frantically for his buddy -- but he would never be there, Max would walk away, clearly heartbroken. Jimmy has helped Max to deal with his pain, he gets to play "grandpa" to the little kitten.

Kendall has not been social in the slightest (other than a couple moments when Jimmy was barely three weeks old), she has taken to cuddling up with me and sleeping, exactly like her fallen brother. Kendall and I were as close as I thought we'd ever be, but after Smokey passed, we have bonded even closer. She still has a hard time accepting he's gone -- I can see it in her face, in the way she behaves, she and I are lost together. Thankfully, we do indeed have each other and that makes it a little easier for us both.

Dozens of people have offered their condolences, the vet and the funeral home that handled Smokey have made donations to a local animal shelter in his memory, his ashes reside inside of a Spider-Man themed stuffed cat doll. He is greatly missed and still greatly loved, not just by me, but my Wife, my Mama, the entire staff at Coble Animal Hospital and others. He was truly a remarkable cat, tough as nails and sweet as pie, he was just the most adorable little guy, Max lost a best friend, Kendall a brother, and my Wife and I a son -- I'll find my way and be better than ever, and it will be because of him. Whenever times are tough, and I feel like giving up, feeling sad because Smokey's not here, I'll remember he's alive in my heart, he's at the Rainbow Bridge waiting for me, up in the sky.

Smokey James 2/1/03 - 8/23/13

February 1st 2003. That was the day that my life would forever change for the better. A cat that we had taken in was going to give birth to five kittens, two of which would be my whole world. A girl: Weineken and a boy: Smokey. With all due respect to Weineken, this piece is about Smokey, but know that she means every bit as much to me as he does. Smokey and I formed a special bond. My Wife has often said that we share a bond that she's never seen before between a human and a cat. At an early age (I'm not sure exactly, but he wasn't even three months old yet) he would snuggle up against my chest and sleep next to me every night. At a young age, Smokey discovered the tasty goodness of cheese crackers and potato chips. Cheese crackers and potato chips remained a staple of his life until last week.

My Mom wanted me to go on vacation with her and my big sister Amy. There was no way I was going anywhere without Smokey. So my Mom, Amy, Smokey and I crammed into a tiny car that was packed to the brim with things we thought we needed for our trip. It was an especially fun (sarcasm) fourteen hour drive down to Texas. Smokey had decided to hide under the passenger side seat for most of the trip. When we got where we needed to be, I discovered Smokey had slept on an open bag of gummy worms, which were now melted to his fur. First order of business in Texas: give Smokey a bath! He was there for me through four moves, including the purchase of my first home. He was there when I met Kathlyn and got married to her. He waited patiently for me to get home from long shifts at work and long nights with friends, just so we could pal around. He comforted me when my Grandparents and my best friend died. Throughout everything in the last decade, he's been the one constant source of positivity in my life.

On August 10th of this year, we took Smokey in to see the Vet, he had stopped eating and was drinking a lot. After running some tests the Vet told us his kidney (yes, singular) was failing, his numbers were far too high, he was going to die that day. I was devastated, my buddy was fine a few days ago, now he's going to die? Just like that? No. I wasn't having any of it, and neither was Smokey. The Vet suggested he go to the E.R., so that's exactly what we did. Kathlyn (without her, Smokey and I wouldn't have made it this far) and I met the E.R. Vet who told us that a cat Smokey's age should have a number of around 2.4 in regards to his kidney... his was around 16. He should be dead, yet, here he was.

The E.R. Vet kept him over the weekend and on Monday August 12th, which just happened to be my birthday, Smokey returned to his normal Vet where he would spend the day finishing up his treatment. In the late afternoon, the Vet called. Smokey wasn't doing very well, we had to come put him down, there was nothing left to do. My Mom and Drew (my bestest buddy since forever) came over and took Kathlyn and I to see Smokey. Once we got there they brought him into the room with us and he perked up and started purring and acting like I haven't seen him in a while! The Vet was dumbfounded, his numbers indicate that he should be dead. Clearly, he wasn't. Smokey came home that night and that's the greatest birthday present I ever got, a happy Smokey!

His condition started to get better, so hopes were high that he would make it after all. Smokey is a completely bad-ass and tough cat, much more bad-ass or tough than myself or ANYONE reading this. He went his whole life with one functioning kidney and gave death the middle finger more times than I can count. However, after a few days he got sick... real sick. A visit with the Vet and again she said "his numbers indicate he should be dead. I'm completely surprised that he's still here. But, he's not going to get better, his body is shutting down." One last time, Smokey looked death in the eye and spat in his face! He triumphantly came home once again.

Now however, the truth was setting in. He's not going to get better and he's too damn stubborn to let go. I spent the last few days, cuddling him, sitting outside with him on the porch, letting him get some sun. I knew, whether I wanted to admit it or not what was coming. Finally, enough was enough. He was in rough shape and Kathlyn and I had to do what was best for him (thank you Wifey for getting me through this). Last night he cuddled with me all night (something he hasn't done since he got real sick) and purred up a storm (he hasn't purred since last Saturday). I read to him a line from a fabled book I adore "Let go. Fly. Second star to the right -- and straight on till morning." He purred as best he could, accepting my instructions. "That's what I want you to do, Smokey. Let go. Fly. Second star to the right -- and straight on till morning." He gave me a "kiss" by licking my nose and gave me the patented "Smokey wink". This last week and half has been a gift, a chance to come to grips with what was happening and say goodbye. and it's been eerily similar to a favorite book of mine.

If you see me in the near future, and I don't seem right or if I come off as rude... please, bear with me... my Son just died.





Kathlyn's blog can be viewed here.

Smokey.

Today, my Wife and I took my kitty Smokey in to the Vet. We thought he might be having some tooth problems. His biological sister Kendall had tooth issues and after removing several of her teeth, she was fine. For Smokey, it was worse. It appears as though his kidneys are failing. Whether or not his condition is treatable, we won't know until Monday. My Wife has said that the bond I share with Smokey is like that of a father and son. She's right. He is way past being a pet that I own, he is very much so like a son to me.

His Mother was a stray cat that my family took in, and she gave birth to Smokey, Kendall and three other kittens on February 1st 2003. Smokey and Kendall have been a part of my family literally since the day they were born. They both have special bonds with me, but this post is about Smokey, so I will focus on him. We've been through a lot together. Lots of heartache and triumphs. He was there for me when my best friend died, he was there when I got married and he was there when I bought my first house. Those are just to name a few occasions.

I am hurting so badly right now, knowing that our time together may be cut short. Smokey is a tough old kitty, and he will fight with all he's got. I love him dearly, and I'll never give up on him. Hopefully he will be coming home on Monday, which happens to be my birthday. If he comes home Monday, it'll be the greatest birthday present I could ever get!

Get well soon, Smokey!

Why is Spider-Man 3 so close to my heart?

I think the reason Spider-Man 3 is so near and dear to my heart, has less to do with the overall movie, and more to do with my real life. A couple of months before Spider-Man 3 hit theaters, my best friend died. I was twenty one at the time. I've posted all about that tragic event, so I'll spare the details. I was in a funk and a few of my friends at the time were going to go to Spider-Man 3's midnight showing, so I of course tagged along (I absolutely loved the first two).

The quality of the movie aside (I DID like it just to be clear), one moment stood out to me especially. It was when Harry Osborn died. Harry was Peter Parker's best friend, sure they had some disagreements (or more accurately, epic fights) but they were best friends. Harry died at the end of the film, sacrificing himself for his buddy, Spider-Man. It was emotional for me to watch.

With the death of my friend still fresh in my mind, watching my favorite super-hero witnessing his best friend's death, unable to do anything about it was a little close to home for me. I'd always related to Peter Parker, he is the everyman of super-heroes. I'd read Harry's death in the comics (masterfully written by J.M. DeMatteis in Spectacular Spider-Man #200) but this was different. When I read the book, my friend was alive, even though the book was very impactful, it wasn't this strong for me.

I could feel the pain Peter felt in that scene, mainly because I was REALLY feeling that pain. One of my then friends, just kind of looked at me in a very concerned manner during the scene, he knew how much I was still hurting. I was crying, but at least I wasn't the only one. Say what you will about the film, but Harry's death was very well done. At that moment, I felt like I was reliving the moment I found out my friend died. To this day, Spider-Man 3 remains one of my favorite films, and I still get choked up during Harry's death.

There wasn't much of a point to this post, I suppose. I had just recently watched Spider-Man 3 and was thinking about why I hold the film so close to my heart. No matter what the detractors say, Spider-Man 3 was a conclusion to the trilogy I enjoyed (yes, it did have flaws) and more importantly (to me), it allowed me to see my hero, Peter Parker, dealing with an issue that I was currently dealing with. If Pete could move on, then so could I.

Thank you Sam Raimi, Tobey Maguire, James Franco, Kirtsen Dunst and EVERYONE that made Spider-Man 3. For better or worse, it's the conclusion we got, and in my case, it was the conclusion I needed.

My friend, Todd.

Every year around this time, I start to feel helpless, sad and downright depressed. On the 25th of this month, it will be six years ago that my best friend died. I've been fortunate enough to meet some great people in my short life, many of them I have known for years. Todd (my best friend), was truly special. To this day, he remains the greatest person I've ever met. I only knew him for two years, but six years after his death, I still miss him as much as I did the day he died. To me, that speaks volumes about him.

I've progressed in life since his passing. I got married... bought a house... and moved on... but not really. Since the day he passed, I've never been the same... but I suppose that is to be expected to some extent. I lost a lot of weight, I gained a ton of weight, made some great new friends, lost those same friends, gained new meaning in my life only to lose it all and take several steps backward in life. I've battled with plenty of mental health issues since then... and let me tell you, it's been the toughest thing I've ever faced and tried to deal with.

I've hurt my friends, I've hurt my family and I've hurt myself over the last six years. To be honest, it all stems from that day that feels like it was so, so long ago and yet, also seems like it was yesterday. You see, the night before he died, he asked if I wanted to hangout. Keep in mind we work at the same place, and I have to open the next day. So, I told him that I didn't want to do anything because I had to open. I told him to take it easy and that I'd see him tomorrow. Well... I never saw him again.

The next day I opened the store and went about business as usual. I called him part of the way through my shift... for what? I don't recall, but he didn't answer. I thought nothing of it, he was probably sleeping in late, that was normal for him. Once it got a little past two in the afternoon, which was when he was supposed to come in to work, I was a little worried. Sure, he had been late before... but something wasn't quite right... I could just feel it. After several calls to his cellphone, which of course went unanswered, I panicked. I called his house, no answer. Finally, I called one of his closest friends... and his Mom answered. "Where's Todd?" I asked. She stammered for a moment, "Todd died." she said. I felt my heart sink, the world stopped and I was completely floored. I ended up calling her again, because I wasn't sure I really heard what she said. Everything after that, kinda blurs together... a lot of crying, a lot of support from the great people in my life at that time... and the only time I've ever gotten drunk in my life.

 His wake and funeral came and went, his birthday (not even a month after his death) came and went... nothing seemed to matter. Over the next few months I put on a fake front that implied I was feeling better and getting things together (which NOBODY fell for) and I managed to have some decent times during the first year he was gone. I met my future Wife, moved into an apartment with her and had some good times with great friends that I've never done enough for. Long story short, my life fell apart because I was a mess and I've lost nearly all of those great friends and really got into a funk with panic and anxiety. If it were not for my Wife's patience, understanding and outright faith in me, I wouldn't be writing this today.

I have felt for so many years that it was my fault he died because I wasn't with him. If I had gone with him, he might not have died. The truth is, there was nothing I could have done, I had no way of knowing what would happen. I needed to accept this, and I finally feel I have... it wasn't my fault. There were things going on in his life that nobody (or at least not a lot of people) were aware of. There are things that I know, that nobody else knows. Todd had demons that he couldn't easily share, and clearly couldn't deal with... and it's really sad that bad things get ahold of good people and ruin them from the inside out. His end was unfortunate, premature and honestly... totally avoidable. If you are reading this and you need help, please tell your family and friends... they will help you... if you let them.

I want to remember the Todd that was my best friend. I want to remember all the fun times we had in the short time we knew each other. Everywhere we went, somebody knew him, everybody loved him. He was just about the nicest guy you could ever meet and was always fun to be around.

I miss him dearly. I would like nothing more than to talk with him one more time, to properly say goodbye.

If there is one thing that I learned from my short time with him, it's that you should enjoy every second of life... it's far too precious to waste being miserable. Maybe now, I can finally start to do just that.