{"id":16064,"date":"2019-03-28T16:22:06","date_gmt":"2019-03-28T20:22:06","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/?p=16064"},"modified":"2019-03-28T16:22:06","modified_gmt":"2019-03-28T20:22:06","slug":"petes-denial","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/petes-denial\/","title":{"rendered":"Pete\u2019s Denial"},"content":{"rendered":"

April 2019 | view full story as a .pdf<\/a><\/p>\n

\"\"W<\/span>e had this cat, his name was Stanley, but most of the time Jill called him Sweetheart.<\/span><\/p>\n

I tried to be friends with him. I honestly did\u2014patting him on the head now and then. But he wouldn\u2019t purr, giving me this look like he was wondering: What do you think you\u2019re doing?<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

Sometimes it made me just a little sick watching the two of them together\u2014both<\/em> of them purring. <\/span><\/p>\n

So I can\u2019t say it broke my heart when Stanley developed a brain tumor. At first, Jill thought he was giving her the cold shoulder\u2014standing there staring at the wall like that\u2014and begged his forgiveness for whatever she had or hadn\u2019t done. But after a while, it was clear something was wrong with the thing. The vet told her he probably wasn\u2019t in any pain yet, so we kept him for the time being. But then he clearly was in pain, standing there trembling.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jill couldn\u2019t bring him in, just couldn\u2019t do it.<\/span><\/p>\n

I told her I\u2019d be glad to. \u201cWell, not glad<\/em>,\u201d I said. <\/span><\/p>\n

*<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n

The receptionist said she was very sorry.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAbout what?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She nodded at the carrier.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh. Right. Well.\u201d I shrugged.<\/span><\/p>\n

She frowned at me. Evidently, she didn\u2019t think I was sad enough. So I told her it wasn\u2019t actually my cat, that Jill was a neighbor. \u201cShe couldn\u2019t bring him in, just couldn\u2019t do it,\u201d I said with a sad face. \u201cThey were very close. She called him \u2018Sweetheart.\u2019 Can you imagine?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d the woman said, \u201cI can.\u201d She told me to go take a seat. \u201cDr. Payson will be out shortly.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

Bossy thing<\/em>. I went over to the chairs. The only other person was an old woman with a blue parakeet in a cage on the floor in front of her. I gave her a nod, set Stanley down, and picked out a People<\/em> magazine from the coffee table.<\/span><\/p>\n

Oprah\u2019s gotten fat again.<\/span><\/p>\n

Another Rocky<\/em> movie\u2019s coming out. I saw the first one with Jill on our very first date. I remember walking her home, discussing the movie. I remember how she held my arm. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy doesn\u2019t he turn around in there?\u201d the old woman across from me asked. \u201cHe has enough room. Why doesn\u2019t he face the other way so he can see out?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I told her quietly like I didn\u2019t want Stanley to hear: \u201cBrain tumor.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOhhh,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd does he have
\nto be\u2026?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I nodded sadly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPoor thing,\u201d she said.<\/span><\/p>\n

I agreed and went back to my magazine. There was a photo of Sylvester Stallone in a tutu and I couldn\u2019t help it. I laughed out loud.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re<\/em> certainly taking it very well,\u201d the old woman said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not actually my cat,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019m doing this for a neighbor. What\u2019s the matter with your bird?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHis name is Pretty Boy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter with him?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She looked at him in there on his perch and sighed. \u201cHe stopped singing. I don\u2019t know why.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe he doesn\u2019t feel like it. I <\/i>sure wouldn\u2019t feel like singing if I was locked in a cage, especially if I was a bird. Birds like to fly around<\/em>.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPlease stop.\u201d She was close to tears.<\/span><\/p>\n

I went back to my magazine.<\/span><\/p>\n

Dr. Payson came out in a long white coat like a real doctor and went to the front desk. The receptionist pointed at me, and he came walking over, but the parakeet lady stood up and told him about Pretty Boy not singing for three days straight. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot a single note, Doctor!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Dr. Payson promised to take a good look at Pretty Boy, right after he attended to this gentleman and his cat. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t understand,\u201d she said. \u201cI was here first.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBut his appointment is before yours, Mrs. Donovan.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think he would mind letting me go ahead of him,\u201d she said and looked at me. \u201cWould you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTo be honest, I would,\u201d I told her. She\u2019d be hours<\/em> in there.<\/span><\/p>\n

Dr. Payson said if I wished to I could stay with Stanley during the procedure.<\/span><\/p>\n

I said, \u201cThanks, but it\u2019s not actually my cat. I\u2019m just doing this for a neighbor.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He nodded\u2014I don\u2019t think he believed me\u2014and took the carrier into the back. I returned to my magazine. But I could feel the old lady staring at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes?\u201d I said politely.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou could have at least stayed<\/em> with the poor thing.\u201d She was just mad at me for not letting her go first. \u201cTry and comfort him in his final moments.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

M<\/span>eanwhile, I noticed Pretty Boy starting to wobble around on his perch like a drunk. Then, right while I was looking, he dropped to the floor of the cage and laid there, claws up.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMa\u2019am.\u201d I pointed.<\/span><\/p>\n

She looked, then stood and started hollering for Dr. Payson. The receptionist ran off to get him, but he was already hurrying out.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s dead! Pretty Boy is dead!\u201d the old woman sobbed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Dr. Payson and the receptionist tried to get her to calm down, or at least sit<\/i> down, but she just stood there carrying on. Then she looked at me. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf only you had let me go first! If only you had let<\/em> me!\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

Dr. Payson and the receptionist looked at me, too. All three of them stood there looking at me. <\/span><\/p>\n

I got the hell out of there. They could keep the carrier. We wouldn\u2019t be needing it anymore. If Jill wanted someone to call Sweetheart, here I was, right in front of her, arms wide.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

April 2019 | Fiction<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":15965,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[112],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-16064","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16064","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=16064"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16064\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16065,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16064\/revisions\/16065"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15965"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16064"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16064"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.portlandmonthly.com\/portmag\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16064"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}