I give thanks to Pan
God of the wild things
Of the forests and the streets
And to His companion Kybele
To whom Theban women sing
Mother of Earthly life

A couple of weeks ago, my room-mate’s cat was diagnosed with cancer (well, sort of; there was no biopsy, but the vet said that’s probably that that mass on his liver is), and so this last couple weeks, he’s been on a steroid chemo, if only just to make his last projected year easier on him and in less pain. The cat in question is fifteen, which is a pretty old age for a cat (think of the human equivalent being 80 or so), so it’s not like it would be totally terrible if he really did only have one more year — and this is also the cat who tackles the vacuum cleaner hose attachment, so whatever gods of animals must be smiling upon him for battling the enemy of all house-pets so bravely, a slightly shortened life would be a small price to pay for a seat in Cat-Halla.

So far, it seems that his health has progressed wonderfully, as he’s been putting up a bit of a struggle with taking his pill this last few days, and my room-mate even thinks the cat has put a little weight back on.