Harboring Chaos

I'm Updating this shit

2005-02-15T22:47:00.000-05:00

Here's what's new with me (organized in a reader-friendly list version)
1) I got into vet school! At first, I was like, Yeah! But now, I'm like, FAFSA? STAFFORD? I'll be in debt to the tune of $200,000 dollars... frightening, considering starting vets make 1/3 of what starting doctors make. Bollocks to people medicine.
2) I have a new job, which I like a lot better than my old job (which SUCKED, and, every time I think of the way I was treated there, I want to throw hard objects through the windows - but, alas, I want my 99 dollar security deposit back.)
3) Pipp got a new rhinestone collar. It's hella tight.
4) oh! Oh! I cut all my hair off. I don't really know why.
5) My uncle Mark moved to Key West. I think I shall take an extended visit this summer.
I realize, I don't have all that much new news. But: coming very soon, a picture of Pipp in his new rhinestone collar! I have no life.

2005-02-05T21:52:00.000-05:00

Had to take advantage of the lighting. Plus, I look very self-reflective and contemplative here.

2005-02-05T21:50:00.000-05:00

Family Portrait in Lifejackets

2005-02-05T21:49:00.001-05:00

one of the other islands... not the same one as in the photo below...

2005-02-05T21:49:00.000-05:00

St. Thomas...or, maybe, Antigua, or maybe, Barbados... It all blends into one island, as far as I'm concerned.

2005-02-05T21:47:00.000-05:00

We went on vacation! View from the cruise ship.

2005-02-05T21:46:00.000-05:00

Incredibly fuzzy picture from New Year's... Fuzzy heads, as well..

2005-02-05T21:45:00.000-05:00

Double Yawn.

Merry Fucking Christmas

2004-12-18T15:51:00.000-05:00

So, in fact, I do realize that it's been over a month since I've updated this thing. And, also, I remember saying on a few occasions, I was going to keep up with it. I'm a liar. I could make a New Year's Resolution to keep up with it, but that would indeed make it less likely that I would than if I hadn't said anything at all. Here's an update:
1) I have resigned/lost my job. I resigned because if I didn't, I was going to get fired. How do I know this? Because I was told.
2) I have spent the past two days throwing up and falling over from dizziness. I even threw up the syrup I bought from CVS (upon the suggestion of the Notoriously Nonchalant Asian Pharmacy Assistant) that's supposed to stop you throwing up. I even went to a job interview yesterday and threw up in their bathroom. Let me tell you, folks, if you want a good way to make a first impression, there's nothing like leaving a vomit-laden handprint on the bathroom floor. As way of comic relief, I got a "don't call us, we'll call you."
3) Christmas is almost here. And, once again, I am alone.
4) Rocky was neutered. That was fun. He was angry with me for 12 hours, then got over it.
5) Pipp has been cowering under the end table all day, in response to my bemoaning and wailing from pain.
6) Cricket is relatively unaffected by all the goings-on, but took the opportunity to share my saltines with me while I was trying to keep them down.
7) My apt is a complete and total mess. The bathroom door has given up just being non-functional, and progressed to completely falling apart. It's rather funny, actually - now I can see what a cheap door it was in the first place. It's hollow, and the cardboard on either side has seperated. The bathtub no longer drains. The tiles on the floor wobble. A few weeks ago, sick and tired of fixing my bed after it fell apart, I slept on the floor for a few days. Oh, oh! And, I haven't done my dishes in about three months.
8) I cried while watching figure-skating. There's got to be something wrong there. Either I'm premenstrual or turning into my mother.

There's got to be one good thing about all this, anyway - I'll be at least two pounds lighter after all this throwing up.

2004-11-16T20:00:00.000-05:00

Grand Palace, Bangkok, Thailand (www.imagesoftheworld.org/thailand.)

The beginning of an international diatribe

2004-11-16T19:13:00.000-05:00

When I was a sophomore in college, I chose to do a travel abroad program in Thailand. Basically, as far from the norm, and the US as possible - my parents were convinced I wanted to give them a coronary, but that wasn't the main reason. I figured, when else am I going to be able to spend six months in southeast Asia? I could go to Europe anytime. I imagined Thailand as a hot, sensuous country filled with resplendent greenery and beautiful fabrics, clear water in the canals for the teak boats to travel upon, and friendly smiles. I couldn't have been further - While it was hot (we were drenched in sweat the instant we exited the plane), it was also extremely humid - not the sexy, glowing type of heat. It was the type of heat that made you want to kill yourself, permeating every pore, and leaving your belongings hot to the touch when you went indoors. Rarely was there air- conditioning, it being considered a luxury and only present in large shopping malls and western hotels. The only green present was the fruits and vegetables sold directly off of the steaming, putrid streets. There were almost as many beaten-down cars as people, both clogging the streets and sidewalks with the efficiency of a large sponge. The canals were sewage passages filled with decaying animal bodies, garbage, and human waste, and the boats used to travel down them were rickety, broken affairs with detachable plastic awnings. The smells were unreal, causing retching from more than one visitor.
As disgusting as I've made it sound, it was also incredible. It was a cultural slap-in-the-face - it made you appreciate convieniences of your home and covet the rich history of Thailand's immense religious and national pride. I was left speechless after visits to the many temples, adorned with intricate and expansive glass and mirror mosaics, left entirely speechless when asked by a homeless man to take his kitten at one of these wats, thinking that I could give it a better life than he could. Which was true. I loved the strands of flowers used as offerings, their bright purples and reds and thick whites. Thailand is a country full of colors - gritty gray and black of the streets, rich tan of the people, bright oranges and saffron yellows of the monks' robes, and heavy gold of their offering bowls. It was not unusual to see a monk walking barefoot through the street, holding in front of him the bowl used for collecting the kindnesses of the people.
The country itself is a living contradiction. Its beauty and its ugliness are in stark and visible contrast with one another. The loveliness and hospitality of its people were contradicted by their treatment of animals: as lower beings, there was little regard for them. It is a city populated largely by homeless dogs, who scrounge around on the streets eating whatever is deemed inedible by the many homeless people. I was irate one day after hearing a rumor that one of the guards at our school had poisoned some of the dogs by offering tainted meat, as a way to clean up the problem. It was horrifying and a wake-up call. I saved that kitten, though. She was covered in fleas in ticks and skinny as a little noodle when I got her. I picked the ticks and fleas off with a tweezer and brought her to the vet. She lived in my room until I could find a home for her. I proudly report that she is a fat, happy cat that's spoiled rotten by her new owner. Go, me.

2004-11-13T11:28:00.000-05:00

I em liking de cheecken, no?

No me gusta el gato

2004-11-13T11:13:00.000-05:00

Herrow. For dose of jus who are not nowing me, mi nombre es Rocky. I am a leetle chihuahua meex who has de long legs and de beeg eers. Last night when mi mami was sleeping, I am going to the computer to make dees post. She is not knowing dat I be making it. I am writing dees becas I is not getting enuf espace in de bed for me to make good sleep. I am having de long legs, and am needing much espace to be sleeping good. I also no like de gato, who is chasing and hitting a mi all of de time. He is having some sort of e prolem with the Rocky, ju know what I say? I am thinking he eez jelous becus I am still having my cajones, ju know? And da gato, he no have them. De one dog, dey call heem Peep, he ez not so bad as de gato. De Peep, he sometime is being nice to me becus I am liking to cry all of de time. I have un poco secret to be telling ju alls: I am not be crying becus I am of the sad, I am be crying becus I be knowing dat my mami be pettin me alot when I be crying. And dat be makin de gato bery mad.
If ju know what I be talkin baut, pleas be sending some pesos a mi, entonces, I will hire a man to be taking da gato far away. He weel sleep wit da feeshes, no? I think I got me some eyetalian relativoes, somewhere. Or you can send cheecken, whish I like too.
Queridos,
Rocky

2004-11-12T20:59:00.000-05:00

Final comments

2004-11-12T20:32:00.000-05:00

Here's how I feel today: Shitty. That's right, folks, I capitalized the S for emphasis. My life for the past month or so has been an exercise in futility. Without getting into it too much, it seems like I've been struggling up a mountain that has an artificial ceiling at the top. You can't stand on the top, and you can't go over the mountain either. Every step you've taken to get as far up the mountain as you have is erased by the person who stands at the top, who doesn't really want to be bothered with you in the first place. No matter how many times you've tried to show the top your efforts to dig your bleeding fingers into crevices, to get higher up on the mountain, it doesn't matter - the top never wanted you to succeed in the first place. Futility. The person at the top only wanted the answers, and didn't care about how you got there. Even if you didn't have any idea how to get there. And the only way you would know how to get there is to be shown. You aren't born with the map to the answers. There's no X marks the spot.
I'm sorry about the ambiguity. Is that even a word? I don't particularly care - it says what I want it to. The ambiguity is required, however, because of my intense paranoia and respect for the matter at hand. The sum of the story: I am completely fucked.

2004-11-11T18:42:00.000-05:00

I LOVE:
wool socks, Rocky's little dome head, caffeinated diet beverages, speaking in a foreign accent, the way my new boots look, Matt Damon in the Bourne Identity and ONLY the Bourne Identity, the Killers, learning new stuff like in-situ hybridization, Reeses sticks, sneezing, www.savemouse.com, www.dooce.com
I HATE:
peanuts (actually, nuts of any kind, including the dog kind), when my eye itches and I'm wearing mascara and I smudge it all over my face, feeling irritable, the way my new boots feel, the fact that Heather's not coming this weekend and I miss her, Pipp chewing off the eyeball to his polar bear and gutting its stuffing all over the living room rug

2004-11-04T21:48:00.000-05:00

Rocky's Slammin new Threads

Rocky Balboa and Mr. Bojangles

2004-11-04T21:28:00.000-05:00

My friend Alice, who works at the vet hospital pharmacy, was standing in the hallway on Monday afternoon with this little brown dog, who was shaking like he was withdrawing from heroin. I expressed the slightest interest and POOF: little brown dog is shaking in my living room. The little brown dog was actually a chihuahua/italian greyhound/miniature pinscer mix, maybe, and began whining the instant I set him down. For some bizzare reason, the cat took an immediate disliking to him (and, I imagine, in some sort of European accent, said, in animal talk: "YOU! Who eez you? And wwhhy eez you in my houz? You look like some leetle rat, and now I make it my job to make you meeeeserable!") The cat waits behind the shower curtain for the little dog to come by, and then pops out and smacks him on the ass.
Someone left this little tiny 7 lb dog tied up on Penn's campus. He was covered in fleas and wasn't neutered. His hip bones and vertebrae jut out through his fur. An undergrad took him in for the night, and brought him to the vet hospital the next day, where my friend Alice offered to care for him. I hand-fed him chicken the first night (and to Cricket and Pipp as well, to establish equality. They were just excited about the chicken.) He whimpered and cried all night long that first night, and I wanted to pull my eyeballs out of the sockets the next morning on the way to work. He walked like a rabid rabbit on the leash, pulling until he coughed and couldn't breathe. I found out, however, that he did know how to sit. Who the hell would leave some little tiny creature tied up for anyone to find? Who could abandon a dog like that? People truly suck.
I tossed around names for a little while: Chico, Topo Gigio, Melvin, Frank, Elmo. I finally settled on Rocky for lack of any better suggestions and also, because that was one of the dog's names on Saturday Night Live's skit, "Dog Show," where Molly Shannon and Will Ferrell dressed like nuts and banged drums with their dressed-up tiny dogs, Rocky Balboa and Mr. Bojangles.
Rocky and I drove over to City Line Ave to the Petco, where he whined at the cats in the cages up for adoption as I tried to fit him into some jackets. He shivers still, and I can't decide if he's cold or neurotic. It's probably a little of both, since as soon as I put him in his jacket it subsided a bit. Cricket thinks he looks like a tool.

2004-10-31T20:47:00.000-05:00

Happy Halloween from King Pipp (the Napoleon of the dog park)

Hefty Rottweiler ISO petite Great Dane (prefers Harlequin)

2004-10-26T20:36:00.000-04:00

I just found out about this completely hillarious/crazy dating site. We are truly in a match.com era. I know quite a few people here in Philly who have tried these; people who have no problem getting dates otherwise. They are attractive, smart, funny, engaging people. It's just too difficult to meet someone you have an actual connection with - most of the time, we're drawn because of physical attraction first. Then, after the "Hi, my name is.." conversation - wait - I'll re-enact it here:

"Hi, my name is (fill in the blank). Can I buy you a drink?"
(Choose A or B here)
A) "No thank you, you somewhat resemble a sea monkey and I'm over with dating creatures with tiny penises"
B) "Thanks, that would be great. I'm (fill in your name here)"
If you chose A, please do not proceed. Your adventure is over. If you chose B, please continue.
"I noticed you from across the bar, you're very pretty."
(Blush) "Thanks... (awkward silence) So, what do you do?"
"I'm a doctor/carpenter/exotic dancer. What do you do?"
"I'm hairdresser/lab technician/rocket scientist. Do you live around here?"
(Choose A or B here)
A) "No, I'm from Jersey."
B) "Yes, actually, I live around the block. I moved from New York to help my parents with their soup kitchen for starving poets."
If you chose A, conversation ends. If you chose B, conversation continues, but will end a few days later when you realize he uses the word, "yous," as in, "Hey, yous over there, come help me with this minestrone."

So, anyhow, after this conversation inevitably takes place, maybe you'll go out with someone a few times before realizing you have nothing in common. That seems to be the draw of internet dating - you weed out all of the definitely not's - for instance, if you're a die-hard fan of a good T-bone, you're not going to respond to a post labeled, "Loving Vegetarian." It makes it easy to pre-judge, however. I may think I hate men with facial hair and a penchant for country music, but often, we can overlook the things we think we hate in the light of a personality that's just right otherwise.
That brings me to the dating site I just read about: http://www.datemypet.com. Before you go and click on it, just read this real quick: It's a DATING site for PEOPLE and their PETS. Meaning, you can look for a date for yourself, and a date for your pet at the same time. (But: how do the rules of decorum apply to pets on their first date? What about crotch-sniffing/licking? Does that have to wait until the third date?) My dog is looking for another male dog, preferably not castrated, at least 100 lbs, and of distinct breed origin. Just kidding: check this out:
Well im sure you can tell that Mia is by far the cutest dogon earth from the pics and although I cant really vouch forfor the cuteness level of dogs from other planets Id say itssafe bet she would rank in the top ten in the universe. Dontthink she is just a pretty face though...lol
People, have we totally forgotten how to punctuate? or does having cute pets make us utterly and totally stupid? It's a question to be answered at another time, by someone other than myself, who totally thinks her dog is among the top three cutest in the universe (no period)

2004-10-26T20:31:00.000-04:00

Tiny Dancer

2004-10-23T22:30:00.000-04:00

I swear, I'm not as short as I look here. Isn't he adorable?

Hi Dave! This post is about you!

2004-10-23T21:47:00.000-04:00

My freshman year of college, I lived with four other girls next door to a room with five boys. I dated a few people that year, the first being someone I met at my first bar the first night of school. He was a Baltimore native, not a stranger to the area or the inside of a pot-smoke filled closet. We dated for around 2 months, most of which I spent in a stupor; whether it be love (or the idea of it) or OTHER. When he broke my heart, telling me, quite matter-of-factly, "It's just not working anymore," I moped and made new friends who would be willing to get stoned before Spanish class.
Living next door to me the whole time was Dave, a tall guy with glasses who I really didn't connect with until the end of freshman year. He was smart and funny and very goofy, in an undercover-cool way. We watched movies and talked about our favorite book, The Little Prince. We walked through campus late at night and sat in the middle of the Astro-turf lacrosse field, looking up at the stars. We ran through the sprinklers and soaked our clothes. It was the perfect beginning to a romance, save its timing - smack in the middle of finals. I muddled through them and did fairly well for only having 2 or 3 hours of sleep at night, being up chatting with Dave. I think it was the day before I went back home for the summer when he finally kissed me. I mean, finally - this boy moved with the speed of a special-olympic hurdler. Then, sort of, we were Together. He visited me in Connecticut over the summer; we spent a day in New York, he snuggled my dog, and my family loved him - especially after he left and sent a basket of English muffins and jam as a thank-you. I think we made it a few weeks when we got back to school - during which time I was wickedly depressed, and I think Dave really didn't understand my misery. Hell, I didn't even understand it. The break-up was unbelieveably amicable; it was: "I think, maybe, it's not working." and, "Yeah, you're probably right." And then we got ice-cream. He helped me with my math homework when I needed it (which was pretty often as I SUCK at math) and played "Chelsea Morning" on the guitar. We remained friends.
I met other boys, mostly through the bar scene. One of our favorite spots was a bar/dance club in Fell's Point, which was infamous for half-hearted ID checking, a dance floor convienient for groping, and 25 cent bottles of beer on Fridays. Next to the loud, heart-thumping club music, the next most abundant sound was the jangling of change in pockets meant for laundry. One night, while dancing to some painfully terrible music, I met what I thought was an attractive, tall, dark, nice guy, a Hopkins student. His name began with an S, or something like it, as I couldn't hear very well. Knowing someone's name isn't a prerequisite for kissing, is it? I had to wait until he called and left his name on my answering machine - it did begin with an S. Sebastien was Greek, and for a while, I was interested in his description of his hometown, and his other seemingly endless stories. We went out on a couple dates, and had plans slated for Valentine's day. The night before, he visited my apartment. My friend Heather (Hi, Heather!) had lent me her stuffed tiger to give my space that wild jungle look. Sebastien went over to the tiger, lifted its paw, and exclaimed, "GRRRR! GRRRR!" And it was then that I knew it was over. It wasn't him, really - he was pretty attractive, and obviously smart. I just knew I couldn't date anyone who was cheesy enough to make a tiger growl in a really girly voice. It was painful to hear.
I broke our plans for Valentine's day on Valentine's day. I know, I'm a shithead. And then I lent Dave my car to take out some other girl. I stayed home and read, and when Dave returned with the keys, let's just say that our attraction to each other never diminished. But we were never meant to be anything other than friends. So remained friends, and we're still friends now. Hi, Dave!

2004-10-21T21:41:00.000-04:00

Will work for Biscuts

2004-10-21T21:22:00.000-04:00

Forwarded: Resume, Mr. Pipp

Pipp ____

Address: The second doghouse on the right

Phone number: It's around my neck

Objective: To obtain as many bacon treats as possible.

Education: Nine months of being yelled at for chewing and/or destroying objects included but not limited to: CD's, condoms, vintage paperbacks, my own metal rabies tag, my mom's college graduation program, a gold bracelet, the heel to a pair of black satin mules with rhinestone buckles, various paper products, cat toys, sneakers, a foam mattress pad, and rubber gloves.

Honors/Awards: Pooping out said rubber glove in its entirety. Learning how to give paw after eight months of my mom repeatedly placing my paw in her hand and saying the word, "paw," and giving me a treat. Eight months.

Language/Computer skills: Fluent in cross-species grumbles. Excel talking to other dogs, even the chihuahuas, and cats as well. Can type with one paw.

Work Experience: Sleep. Eat. Poop. Sleep. Destroy things. Poop again. Eat. Sleep. Chase the cat. Smell bad. Sleep.

Special Activities: Can catch treats in my mouth. Only when motivated. Excel at pooping a little bit in a lot of places. Can also eat cat poop directly out of the litter box.

2004-10-21T21:20:00.000-04:00

Big Man Baby: my uncle Mark's friend Chris, photo courtesy of my uncle Mark

2004-10-20T20:08:00.000-04:00

those earrings are gorgeous, but they're not mine

High School REALLY sucks, otherwise known as, I love you A WHOLE LOT JAMIE!

2004-10-20T19:50:00.000-04:00

So, remember back to freshman year in high school, when everything was new, the halls were huge, and you made new friends? Your old friends were silver, the new ones were gold, etc... For some of us, the new friends cracked like rotten eggs and the old friends were dog shit.
My sister's friends are giving her a really tough time. Jamie's a sophomore in high school, and for reasons that pain me and please me, she reminds me a lot of myself. She gives way too much and loves and creates and you know what? Sometimes it's really frigging draining. And, being bitchy and flimsy as high school girls are, her friends are ditching her. It happened to me too. You can only give so much before people know you're an easy target.
Don't let 'em getcha. Life is WAY too short to fraternize with flimsy bitches. Because you're not one of them now, Jamie, it's going to suck and be really tough for a while. BUT - and the but is real and true - your life is going to be beautiful. It's going to be more than you ever hoped for. You just have to wait.

These are a few of my least favorite things, PART I

2004-10-20T18:31:00.001-04:00

Today, after being utterly and totally frustrated by something I was trying to do at work, I get this message on my cell phone from my landlord: "Hi Kelly, this is ___. I'm calling to let you know that we're going to be treating the building and the one next door for roaches on Saturday morning. We can come at nine o'clock. We're doing the other apartments starting at seven, so, we can do yours as early as you'd like. Actually, the earlier the better, like seven or eight. We're fumigating, so you'll have to be out of the apartment, and the dog and cat will have to be out too. It'll take four or five hours. Also, you should put all of your food from the cabinents that's not sealed in the refrigerator. I mean, we can do it another day, but really all's is going to happen is that all of the roaches from the other apartments that have been treated are going to come into your apartment.Call me back to let me know you got this message. Thanks."
My, oh my, where shall I start?
1) This is the man, who, when I called to ask if he had any open apartments, proceeded to tell me the name, age, occupation, and furniture style of everyone currently living in his building. Before I even moved in, I knew the guys upstairs did nitrous and had naked lady pictures on their refrigerator
2) Ramble Ramble Ramble does not a coherent message make.
3) Ok, so all this aside, I have had roaches for A YEAR AND A HALF. Why has nothing been done about it until now, when we're approaching frost, and the bugs are shuddering in a corner and dying on their own?
4) Where, exactly, do you take yourself, a neurotic dog, and a surly cat at seven in the morning on a Saturday for FIVE hours? I had planned to be solidly passed out with the aid of Benadryl at that hour.
5) This adds to the ammunition I have for cutting out of my lease early: my shower flows with all of the power of a toddler's dribbling piss, my cat is constantly amused with all of the tiny pieces of grout that are dislodged from the tiled floor, the caulk on the shower tiles looks like an accident at the marshmallow factory, and I had to buy an economy-sized gel Drano bottle to unclog (poorly) the shower and sink. The cheapskate also has refused to turn the heat on, so in the morning, I would set fire to my hair to keep myself warm rather than get out of bed and shiver after my totally unsatisfying lukewarm shower - and, not to mention, the roach invasion that's colonized and destroyed a microwave, toaster oven, smoothie machine, and knife block.
I could certainly bitch more, but I'll save that for PART II.

2004-10-20T18:31:00.000-04:00

My Stupendously fabulous cousin Christina

2004-10-19T23:46:00.000-04:00

This truly must be put in writing, first, because this blog business was Chris's idea in the first place, and second, because there are too many funny and sweet memories for me to hold all by myself. Christina is my mother's brother Joe's daughter. Not as difficult as it sounds. She's two years older, and therefore, when we were around 4 and 6, or 6 and 8, or whatever it may be, she had WAY cooler toys. And, thus, I thought I was smart, and offered her a million dollars for the use of one of her toys. And, little did I know then, she would continue to request her rightful sum until...well, until I offered her half of my newly imagined Chinese restaurant. We decided our new property would be called the Fah King restaurant. We only got as far as the name.
Now Christina is all grown up and fabulous and designed a really cool rubber taxi as an incentive for her company. She wears really high heels and never looks like she's going to topple over like a drunk on stilts (see: yours truly.) She's smart and funny and I really like her boyfriend, who can do a killer impression of Will Ferrell doing any impression. Oh yeah! She has a blog too! http://peetielives.blogspot.com

2004-10-19T20:57:00.000-04:00

Those are my earrings

2004-10-19T20:25:00.000-04:00

me and my freakin' dog Pipp

2004-10-19T20:11:00.000-04:00

Leo pre-snooze

And how are YOU on this bright and sunny morning?

2004-10-19T19:59:00.000-04:00

As of this moment, my dog is eating a feather and my cat is sleeping with a dustbuster. Perhaps this will give a clue as to why I chose the title I did for my blog.
I'll start by making a tribute to Leo, whose gorgeous little face you see here. Leo was an Abyssinian mix kitten with a tiny body and a tremendous personality. I met him when he was four weeks old, visited him every day until eight weeks, when he came home with me. My pets (Cricket, a year-old male dog in a cat's body, and Pipp, a 1 1/2 year old screaming child in a dog's body) loved Leo immediately, and I was shocked at how easy the transition was. Leo slept in my bed, or in the bed with the dog, or in the dog's bed with Cricket. He was sunny and bright and anything I could have wanted in a kitten. My family loved him, and he even got the privilege of going to the hotel my mother and sister stayed in when they came to Philadelphia to visit. Leo spent the entire night tearing across the carpeted room, back and forth. As has been said to me, the most special ones go first. Leo came down with a fever, and wasn't his usual peppy self. He stopped moving around, and after two visits to the vet ER, it was determined he had FIP, a fatal virus. (For those who are interested in the science of the thing, this woman does a lot of research on the virus: www.dr-addie.com/ ) To follow was the worst week of my life, as I watched Leo stop eating, etc. He was euthanized on October 5th, 2004. Everyone here misses him, to a fault.