Celebrating love, mourning loss

Phe, who turned 6 in February, had been ailing since at least last August with symptoms that never were determined, although his vet was convinced it was cancer. He went from being a muscular, vocal cat to a weakened, thinning creature that spent most of his days sleeping and not wanting to be around his brother, Phyre. When we initially took him to be examined in September for his chronic diarrhea, the doctor had us follow up with X-rays and prescribed him both steroids and an antibiotic designed to reduce the inflammation in his colon so that he would be more comfortable. The healing part was left up to him, and only time would tell if that would be successful or not. 

Although he did show some improvement — increased appetite, firmer stools, more activity and attentiveness — the hoped-for weight gain never happened. We continued to give him regular doses of his prescription pain medication well beyond the three weeks or so the vet initially prescribed, basically being told we could do so as long as we needed because she saw no hope for his recovery. We simply refused to believe that such a young cat would simply waste away so suddenly. But he did. 

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O

N WHAT WOULD be his last day with us, Phoenix seemed more social than usual. Always independent and almost never one to cuddle, he spent time with each of us, making his way from Ben’s room to the living room where he sat on the sofa with Roni and then worked his way over to the computer desk where, without encouragement, he hopped from the dining room table into Glenn’s lap while he worked at the computer with a fleece blanket on his legs to keep warm inside our chilly house. 

But while we were always delighted in the rare moments when Phe would choose to spend time with us like this, it was clear that things weren’t right. He was hunched up more than usual, the protrusions of his spine clearly evident beneath the skin on his emaciated body. He squirmed around in an effort to get comfortable, lowering himself gingerly into a sitting position whenever he moved spots. 

In the most troubling sign, he hadn’t been to the bathroom all day. Constipation had rarely been an issue since we put him on the meds and brought his diarrhea under control. While it had seemed we had gained the upper hand on that problem, his poops becoming larger, better formed and more regular, he insisted on not using his litter box and for months had been preferring the tile entrance to our front hallway as his toilet. We’d gotten in the habit of always looking down before opening the front door, just in case. 

But now he wasn’t even using the floor, and it was clear that he needed to go. But whatever this illness was doing to him otherwise, it was also robbing him of muscle strength. He could barely stand without falling over, let alone jump onto the table or counters like he used to do with ease. And now, it seemed, he could no longer find the strength to empty his bowels. We kept a watchful eye on him that afternoon, hoping all he needed was a good poop to clear up his malaise and get him more comfortable. 

But that never happened. He went to the kitchen a couple of times that afternoon and meowed, perhaps out of frustration of not being able to make it to the counter and likely out of pain. Ben came to us after Phe, who had been sitting on his bed, suddenly fell off the blanket onto the floor and sort of stumbled around the bedroom. 

While we were sitting around the dining room table discussing what we should do, Phe came in and hopped up onto the table where we’d been keeping his water glass in a spot he liked to go to. But he had no interest in the water. Instead, he made his way to a cardboard bakery box we’d received when we recently ordered a king cake from New Orleans for Mardi Gras. He flopped down on top of the box, head down with chin pressed to the cardboard, and stared at us from the corner of one eye. We all looked at one another and decided we couldn’t let him suffer any longer. 

So Roni went to the garage to retrieve the dreaded plastic pet carrier cage while the rest of us gradually said our final goodbyes. Even Phyre seemed to know something was up, coming onto the table and sniffing at Phe as if to determine what was wrong. Normally that behavior would have brought him a whack in the face from his brother, but not in Phe’s weakened condition. Ben gave him one long, last hug and then we lifted him carefully into the carrier, Phe not even bothering to fight us, surrendering to the inevitable.

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R

ONI HAD CALLED ahead and made arrangements with VCA East Bay Veterinary Emergency in Antioch, the same place we’d taken Katy the night she had to be put down five months earlier. Glenn commented that they were probably going to add us to their preferred customer list. It was a somber ride over, with Tom Petty’s “Free Fallin’” playing on the radio as we pulled up in front of the clinic. 

They took Phe in right away, had us fill out some paperwork, then sat us down in a consultation room so we could spend the obligatory minute with the vet confirming our decision. She asked us if we wanted to be present for the injection, which we both declined knowing that it would likely cause both of us to break down; it was already difficult enough having watched him waste away to this point for the past half year, despite our efforts to save him. 

About the only thing sadder was being billed $552 for the procedure and having him cremated. The high cost of dying isn’t exclusive to humans, it seems. We thought perhaps we could save a few dollars by choosing to receive his ashes in a cardboard scattering tube instead of an urn, as we did with Katy. But the receptionist told us it made no difference which method we chose, so of course we opted for the pretty pine box with the laser engraving that had been a premium item when Katy’s time came. 

Fifteen days later, we returned to the vet to collect Phe and bring him home. As before, Tom Petty was playing on the radio… “Yeah, I’m freeeeeeee, free fallin’...” Coincidence? The pine box was certainly pretty, if not worth $552. Like his namesake from Greek mythology, we hope that wherever he is now Phoenix will rise from his ashes into a healthy, fiery beast of vitality. 

We all miss you, little buddy. Rest in peace, our sweet “Feeble cat.”

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T

HEY SAID IT would never last, but 35 years later we just celebrated another milestone wedding anniversary. (OK, maybe they didn’t actually say that, but hopefully we’ve proved any doubters wrong by now!) 

Because this wasn’t just a routine anniversary year for us, we wanted to celebrate it in a memorable way, and Roni had her heart set on a weekend away from home. We’d had quite a time deciding on a destination, however, mainly because it has been a wet and wild winter that has left the places we might normally choose either rained-out, flooded, or snowed-under. Worse, the weather forecast called for yet another “atmospheric river” storm system moving through our part of the state, with the bulk of the cold winds and torrential downpour coinciding with our weekend. 

After considerable debate, we decided to take our chances on the coast and selected Monterey for our getaway, choosing the Monterey Marriott for lodging because we had stayed there before and found it conveniently located near attractions without being right in the middle of them. 

We had been prepared for a nasty weekend, weather-wise, but were pleasantly surprised on Saturday morning to wake up to clear skies and mild if not exactly spring-like temperatures. We left home just before 10 a.m. and made our way south through San Jose, where we picked up U.S. 101 to take us down through the Salinas Valley toward our destination. 

We weren’t certain of the best route to take out to the coast, given that the torrential rains from earlier in the month had resulted in flooding of the Pajaro River near Watsonville and subsequent road closures while repairs to the levee were made. Normally we probably would have taken Highway 152 or 129 from U.S. 101 to get us over to Highway 1, but both of those roads travel through Watsonville, which we thought best to avoid, so instead we hopped on Highway 156 that goes to the coast by way of Castroville — the “artichoke capital of the world” and not much else. 

We reached Monterey about 1 p.m., thankful for both the good weather and a decided lack of crowds. Monterey can get crazy busy during a warm summer weekend with families heading to the beach for cooler temperatures, but in early spring it is much calmer. We guessed that the unpredictable weather may also have played its part in deterring visitors. 

Our check-in time at the Marriott wasn’t until 3 p.m., but we decided to chance it in case something might be available early, and it was. We got Room 602, an “accessible” suite with a king bed and a view overlooking downtown and the Monterey Bay. It was just a door or two away from the room we stayed in on our first visit to the hotel several years back when Roni attended a CSDA convention there. 

We were checked in by Emily, the manager of room operations, who congratulated us on our anniversary when Roni told her the reason for our stay, and provided us with a money-saving tip: avoid the valet and use the municipal garage a couple of blocks away for $12 a day vs. the $40 per day to have someone park our car for us.  

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A

FTER DROPPING OFF  our lone suitcase in our room, we parked at the garage and then walked over to Old Fisherman’s Wharf, which is about half a mile away. A few street vendors were selling crystals and jewelry items when we got there, and although we enjoyed looking, we weren’t ready to shell out cash for anything. 

The wharf was busy, but not unreasonably so for a Saturday. It was around our lunch time, so we went looking for a place with clam chowder — which isn’t difficult to find on the wharf. The last time we visited here was prior to the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, and since then the restaurants have all moved parts of their operations to provide outdoor seating. Although it was a nice day, the temperature was still a bit chilly and not especially conducive to comfortable outdoor dining. 

We decided on Domenico’s for our chowder because it wasn’t too expensive and there were lots of seats available. Roni picked up an order of fried calamari to go with it, and we shared it while enjoying our chowder cups and trying to decide what we wanted to do. 

One thing we’d talked about was a whale-watching excursion. Monterey Bay is famous for its whale sightings, and there are several trips a day to take visitors a couple miles out into the Bay to look for humpbacks, gray whales, orcas and more. We scouted out rates at a couple of places. A woman we talked with at Monterey Bay Whale Watch said we were “guaranteed” to see whales on their 3-hour expedition, and pointed out the sighting board filled with all the animals that had been spotted just that morning. A woman we chatted up at Princess Monterey Whale Watching informed us that their top deck was sold out for Sunday, but that the viewing was actually better on the bottom deck because at $70 per person it’s cheaper and you’re closer to the water. 

We had already missed the day’s excursions, so we’d have time to think about whether to return Sunday morning for the 9 a.m. trip. But we ultimately decided against it because we were concerned we’d come underdressed for three hours on the chilly Bay, and Roni had forgotten to bring the long lens for her camera, ensuring that any photos she might be lucky enough to catch of whale activity would be too small and far away to make worthwhile. Maybe next trip.

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O

UR ANNIVERSARY WEEKEND happened to coincide with an engagement party that had been planned for Glenn’s brother Sean and his future bride, Chi — a party in San Jose we would have been at that Saturday afternoon if not for the fact we had made our own travel plans. Our phones were pinging with chat messages filled with images of the festivities, and although we couldn’t be there physically, we were able to share in the moment from afar. 

Happy hour had arrived on the wharf, and given that neither of us were driving anywhere we decided to stop in for drinks at Domenico’s where we’d enjoyed our chowder earlier. They were doing a $4.50 house margarita special, so we planted ourselves at a cozy table inside the bar and drank a toast to ourselves and the newlyweds to be. Although the wedding isn’t until December, this was a chance for the two families to come together informally for food and drinks and a bit of socializing. Their menu looked more tempting than ours… but, oh, the drinks! 

We don’t drink much, so on the occasions when we do it is usually on special occasions such as our anniversary. It was tempting to order off the cocktail menu filled with its exotic alcohol-containing concoctions. Of course, those were a bit more than the house margaritas and would have cost us the equivalent of a nice meal, so we stuck to the basics. But the margaritas were on the small side and not too potent, so when the waitress came around to ask if we’d like another, Glenn didn’t hesitate to accept the offer. 

If you aren’t a hardened drinker, it’s easy to underestimate the effect a couple of drinks can have. Midway into that second margarita, Glenn realized he’d become a little tipsy. Pleasantly tipsy, but tipsy nevertheless. 

We strolled along the wharf and checked out a couple of the gift shops before eventually making our way back to the hotel in the downtown core, stopping at Starbucks for coffee in hopes that it would help Glenn sober up. Ha! What he likely needed was a solid meal aside from the chowder and calamari. Or maybe just a nap. 

We headed back to our room and Glenn was out like a light for a couple of hours the moment his head hit the pillow while Roni tuned into “Law & Order” reruns on the streaming TV. A romantic weekend getaway indeed! 

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W

HEN GLENN EVENTUALLY stirred from his nap it was pushing 7 p.m. and starting to get dark. We’d better grab dinner before all the options were closed for the night. We’d intended to look for someplace we’d never tried before, but it was cold and we weren’t feeling very adventurous, so we stuck close to the hotel and went to the Crown & Anchor, which is just around the corner. 

We’d dined at the Crown & Anchor on our previous Monterey stay. It is styled as a British pub with a traditional English menu, and given that we will be spending some time in the British Isles this summer (more on that later) we thought it would make a good dry run for the meals we might encounter on our trip. 

C&A serves generous portions, and it was yet another case of our eyes being larger than our stomachs when we each ordered full dinners along with an appetizer of Cornish Pastie. For those unfamiliar, the pastie is basically a savory pie of ground meat and potatoes, which just happened to be a lot like the Nelson’s Cottage Pie and George III’s Steak and Mushroom Pie that Glenn and Roni respectively chose for the main course. 

It. was. a. lot. of. food. Glenn commented that his meal alone could have fed the three of us at home. Or fed one of us three times. And if there is anything about British cuisine, it isn’t especially rich or flavorful the way Americanized foods are, so the tiny amount of sauce that came with the dishes was barely enough to satisfy the palate. Not wanting to waste it, we ate as much as possible and waddled back to the hotel feeling like stuffed whales for the rest of the night. 

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S

UNDAY, MARCH 26, was our actual anniversary, and because this would be our only full day in Monterey we wanted to make the most of it. We’d already ruled out the whale watching trip, so instead we decided to head over to Cannery Row and check out the Monterey Bay Aquarium and its impressive collection of marine exhibits. 

We’d lucked out with the weather. The sun rose on another crystal clear day by the Bay, and while it looked sunny and beautiful from our sixth-floor hotel window, we knew that once we stepped outside it would be cold. We took a brisk walk to the parking garage to fetch our car, deciding we’d seek out food options once we reached Cannery Row. Mainly we wanted to get there early because the place is a tourist magnet and parking disappears quickly on the weekend. 

The city is sneaky about its parking rates. While they only charge $12 daily to park in their downtown garage, the clock resets at midnight. So actually you pay $24 to leave the car overnight. This wouldn’t be bad necessarily if you planned not to move the car for the entirety of your visit, but because we were leaving for the day only to return that evening, we had to pay an additional $12 to re-park downtown on top of the $20 we had to pay for day use of the garage at Cannery Row. So, an extra $32 just for moving the car a couple of miles across town. Adding insult to injury, we discovered that we could have taken the public bus between our hotel and the aquarium for $2 per person each way. Tourists, sheesh. 

We got to Cannery Row right around 10 a.m. and went looking for a place to eat. We’d thought there would be plenty of dining options, but it turned out that most of them were lunch and dinner spots that hadn’t opened yet. We wound up at a place called the Rock N Roll Donut Bar where they serve a variety of oversized doughnuts loaded with wild toppings that are both too sweet and overpriced. Roni ordered a breakfast sandwich served on, what else, a doughnut. Glenn ordered a strawberry/blueberry fritter that he could only finish half of, so he wound up getting a to-go box that we had to take back to the car because he didn’t want to carry it around the aquarium all day. 

We’d booked our aquarium tickets online to avoid the lines at the admission counter. Adult tickets are going for $60 these days, but that’s still not too bad considering all there is to see at the aquarium — that is, if you can see it. This might not have been the peak of tourist season, but Cannery Row gets plenty busy on the weekends with families coming down from the Bay Area to see the attractions on a day off from school. The aquarium was already packed by the time we went inside. 

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O

UR FIRST STOP was The Open Sea exhibit, which takes up about half of the aquarium and features some of the best attractions including jellyfish, tunas, hammerhead sharks and other giant sea creatures. We’ve been watching live feeds of some of these exhibits on YouTube in recent months, so it was a bit awe inspiring to finally see them up close and in person, even if we had seen them on other visits. 

Roni was excited to be able to use her “new” DSLR camera inside the aquarium for the first time since she received it for Christmas in 2019. It hasn’t received much use during the pandemic. She also wanted to use all the photo enhancing features of her iPhone 14 Pro since she considers that her day-to-day camera rather than a telephone. Still, it wasn’t easy to get close to the display tanks as they were mobbed with people. (Note to self: Don’t visit the aquarium on a weekend.) 

The jellies are both calming and mesmerizing all at once. They are sort of like living lava lamps that slowly drift through the water in apparent randomness. The tank devoted to the sea nettles is like no other, a 50-foot-long pane of illuminated blue water that lets visitors see every translucent feature in their wispy bodies. 

We parked ourselves on the metal benches of the observation deck at the deep sea tank to watch the shimmering school of sardines swim in circles with the giant sea turtle, stingrays and hammerhead shark, among other creatures that lurk in the murky depths of the ocean. One wonders what the fish think of us all watching them, and perhaps if the tables were turned they would be fascinated by our antics as we all jockey for position to gaze through the thick pane of glass. 

Such are thoughts reserved for middle-aged tourists operating on little sleep and sugary pastries, as that was where we were this Sunday morning — sleep deprived, hungry and already fatigued from what had been less than two hours at Cannery Row. We sometimes seriously overestimate our own stamina these days, especially because it has been so long since we’ve taken a real vacation anywhere. 

But we were determined to see as much of the aquarium as we could, so after grabbing fruit smoothies at the cafeteria we ventured over to the other half of the aquarium where they keep all the exhibits related to the Monterey Bay ecosystem with its kelp forests and shore birds. We spent a long time watching the leopard sharks, garibaldis, giant sea bass and other native fishes swimming in the large tank made to resemble the deep waters surrounding the wharf. Roni tried to photograph the elusive white sturgeon, of which there was one in the tank. 

Glenn got to pet a giant isopod on display in a touch tank, and he likened it to handling a huge, seagoing sowbug. In fact, they are related aside from the fact that one dwells in water and the other on land eating the strawberries in your vegetable garden. 

By now we were thoroughly exhausted, and although the aquarium is generous enough to let visitors return with a hand stamp, we knew we lacked the stamina for another go after lunch. We’d spent about two and a half hours touring the aquarium and had seen most of it, except for the penguins and the history exhibit where they show the equipment once used in the canning operations. It was time to find lunch. 

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W

E ATE AT The Fish Hopper, which is located at the end of Steinbeck Plaza near the Cannery Row monument, sculptor Steven Whyte’s homage to Monterey native author John Steinbeck and those who inspired him. The restaurant offers a tempting array of seafood favorites, but we were mostly too tired for another large meal and opted for sandwiches and fries at an outdoor table overlooking the Bay and children playing in the surf. 

After that there was some time to browse the gift shops, including Sea Otter Shirts where we at last found some new Monterey gear that we liked. (You would think this would be easy in a place that caters to tourists, but amazingly many of the designs are either unattractive, printed on flimsy apparel, or carry risque themes that don’t match our taste.) 

We didn’t want to go back to the hotel so soon, but it was after 4 p.m. and our bodies were protesting any thoughts we had of sticking around for dinner. Better to rest up for an hour or two and search for a dining spot close to the hotel and within walking distance. 

When we got back to our room there was a surprise waiting for us. There was a knock at our door and it was room service with a cheese tray, chocolates and a bottle of Carmel Road pinot noir with a couple of wine glasses to help us toast our anniversary. Emily, the room manager we’d met at check-in, apparently took note of our special day and had the gift sent up to us with a card. How thoughtful. It was too bad that we were too exhausted from our day out to enjoy it that evening. Did we say that we don’t drink too often? We made sure to find a spot for it in our luggage to enjoy when we returned home. The wine, that is. The rest of it helped tide us over before breakfast the next morning. 

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T

HE SEARCH FOR our anniversary dinner spot took us to Alvarado Street, which seems to be restaurant row in the downtown area, the trees on the street decked out in strings of white mini lights. It is also a little sketchy after dark. We were gazing through the windows of some of the potential dining options when from out of a dark corner near the Golden State Theatre a voice called out to us: “Do you have a favorite song?” 

Um, “Goodbye Stranger”? 

It was a street performer with his guitar hoping he’d hooked a couple of tourists for a late night serenade. He’d been lurking in the dark. Talk about creepy. We were happy to leave there and picked the next restaurant that looked promising, which turned out to be Rosine’s. 

We’d heard some good things about Rosine’s on our previous Monterey visit but never got to try it out. It turned out their prices were pretty reasonable and the selection of dishes tempting — particularly their dessert case — although we hadn’t brought our appetites with us, tired as we still were from the day’s excursion. Roni ordered a fried chicken salad (for which she had to substitute grilled chicken because they were out) while Glenn got a bowl of minestrone soup. Both were filling enough, but not too filling. 

We went to sleep early that night, the unopened bottle of wine and plastic-wrapped cheese tray untouched on the dresser table. 

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M

ONDAY MORNING FOUND us much better rested and ready to roll, which was too bad because we had to head home. Glenn had worked ahead last week so that he’d have no obligations on Monday, while Roni still had a few days before her upcoming weekend science fair she was preparing for. Our plan was to take a leisurely drive back up the coast and enjoy some sightseeing before returning to Oakley. 

That was before Ben called us. He’d been eating breakfast when one of his teeth decided to break, and he’d scheduled an emergency dental appointment for that morning and wanted to know what time we’d be home so we could come pick him up from the dentist. Well, we were only two and half hours away, so it might mean a bit of a wait. We tried to get him to make other arrangements, which eventually he did, but not before we’d given up on our hope for a lazy drive back. 

Instead, we went and got breakfast from a place called the Paris Bakery Cafe that served some of the best bread pudding we’d ever tasted. We split a serving along with a breakfast croissant. Oh so good. We worked that off by walking down to Fisherman’s Wharf for one last look at the Bay and shops, now mostly deserted that the tourists had gone for the weekend. It was another sunny day, actually the warmest one yet, but the weather forecast was calling for a big storm to move in by nightfall. We’d been so lucky to have good weather for our stay. We bought some clam chowder and smoked salmon to take home with us.

At last we went to the garage and paid the bail on our vehicle, our luggage already packed inside as we’d brought it with us before going to breakfast. We made the drive home in good time, avoiding most of the Silicon Valley traffic near San Jose and arriving back by 2:30, Ben already home from his dental odyssey. 

It was expensive and exhausting, but well worth the time spent to celebrate our 35 years of marriage. We hope it will be good practice for our upcoming summer cruise. 

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Y

ES, WE DID say cruise. It has been a crazy few weeks of planning and negotiations, but we are all booked and counting down the weeks to August when we will head to Europe for the first and possibly only time aboard Royal Caribbean. We’ll be sailing for two weeks through the British Isles with Glenn’s parents, with stops in Scotland, Ireland and England as well as Amsterdam, which will be our home port. 

Amsterdam was a very unexpected port of call. Originally we had all talked about sailing out of Southampton, England, which would have meant flying in and out of London. But plans changed at the last minute, traveling in August worked better than September, and so Amsterdam in The Netherlands it is. 

Having little knowledge of Amsterdam, we’ve been learning all about the sights we might want to see there and are getting excited about the trip. We all decided to fly in three days early, both to allow a bit of “fudge time” in case flights get delayed and because there is so much of this incredible city to see with its museums, canals and Renaissance-era architecture. It will be our most extensive stay in any foreign city, and certainly one that won’t begin to do justice to all its attractions, but we’ll try our best. 

The trip is by no means cheap, even though our folks are paying for most of the cruise. But it’s one of those things when once it’s paid for you just go and enjoy, so we’re looking very forward to the experience. Stay tuned… 

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A

S MUCH AS she probably would prefer not to acknowledge it, Roni celebrated her 61st birthday on March 23. Although she wasn’t really sure of what she wanted in the gift department, she knew for certain that she had to have her favorite ice cream cake from Cold Stone Creamery. We did that, as well as going out to dinner at Melo’s Pizza & Pasta in Brentwood. 

Ben stole the show when it came to the gifts, presenting Mom with a circular portrait he painted of Phoenix sitting casually on top of a crescent moon. So soon after we had lost our sweetheart to illness, the picture was greatly appreciated by the recipient who admitted to fighting back tears when she saw it. 

Ben hasn’t spent much time on his painting, preferring to work in ink and pencil or digitally on his iPad, so it was an extra special treat to receive a painted masterpiece. Roni made sure to give it a place of honor on the entry wall to our bedroom. We imagine that somewhere up in kitty heaven he’s probably looking down and smiling at us all, much as he used to do in life when he would sit in on the ledge of the small window in our shower stall. 

This has been a longer newsletter than usual, but now we’d better get it posted before the month comes to a close. We’ll meet you here again in April. 

Glenn, Roni and Ben