Skip to main content

Juniors Tribute

This morning, there is something missing from my life. There's an empty space on the back of our sofa where my companion Tony Junior (Jr.) usually sleeps or watches the world go by through the window, perched on his soft, red, fuzzy blanket. There, he waits for me to join him in a nap so he can climb onto my chest, settle in, and purr as I gently scratch his chin and behind his left ear.

You see, last night, October 10, 2023, Jr. quietly passed at about 11:30 p.m. Needless to say, I’m heartbroken. As I write this, tears are streaming down my cheeks. You see, Jr. was my special friend like no other. He never complained; he was always there to greet me every morning, at night, returning from a mountain trip, or just from a daily walk around the neighborhood. Junior, our indoor cat, had a routine of following me around the house. He never wanted to venture outside - he considered our home “his castle.” I could set my watch to his predictable daily routines. And he knew mine. See What the Cat Heard. He would jump onto my lap whenever I was seated and start purring softly. With his motor running, he would roll over, stretch out, and allow me to vigorously rub his tummy - and he loved it. (Caution don't try this with just any cat - you will get the Sh*t scratched out of you.) Junior was more than just a pet to me; he was my special buddy, and I cherished his companionship.

You see, in the past few weeks, Jr. began to show signs of his age; now over 15 years old, he was unable to keep food down, and refused to eat. We took him to his Vet, and interestedly, all of his vitals were fine. They did blood work, and no signs of any issues. Somewhat dehydrated, he was given fluids, and when we got home, he went directly to his bowl to eat something, which was very encouraging. Then, within a few days, he was again unwilling to eat. The doctor prescribed some medication that helped for a while. He would eat very small portions, but he was losing a lot of weight, strength, coordination, and vigor.

He never complained, never showed any signs of pain, sat stoically, and made sure I was following my routines. Then he would sleep. He became weaker, and yesterday, when we returned home from work there, he sat, quietly, stoically - yet on the floor a few feet from his litter box was a very large pool of blood. We took him to the animal hospital and urgent care. After a thorough diagnosis of a large lump in his abdomen, his temperature dropping, and anemic blood levels, he was undoubtedly checking out of our world. We will miss you deeply, dear friend - God’s speed.

Unfortunately, my dear friends, I'm afraid it won't be possible to record a podcast this week without experiencing a breakdown. So, as a tribute to Junior’s memory, I’ve attached to this blog the post - Juniors Jungle Gym so you can experience Junior at his best and we can relive the wonderful memories of a day in my companion Junior's long, loving life.

I’m Patrick Ball. Thanks for your prayers and well wishes. I’ll see you in the next episode.

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

Sunflowers, French Steel, and the Yellow Jersey

Watching Le Tour de France this year, I found myself transported back to August 1983 as the Peloton in Stage 10, Bastille Day, flowed through the French countryside like a brightly colored ribbon. I was in my twenties, visiting family in the Charente-Maritime region of France, completely obsessed with bicycle racing—and convinced I was much stronger than I was. My connection to cycling—and to France—runs deep. I was born in France, and my very first real road bike, at age fifteen, was a Mercier . To me, it wasn’t just a bicycle; it was a work of art made from beautiful French steel. I rode that bike for miles, through high school, into college, and until the day someone decided they needed it more than I did. I hope they at least appreciated the craftsmanship. Its untimely disappearance led me to a Schwinn Voyageur, and later, when I started racing around Illinois, to a Raleigh Competition . But during that summer of ’83, while staying with my Uncle Jean Paul in Lagord, just north of L...

The Big Rip and the First Tee

The telescope (Celestron) sits quietly under its cover, temporarily blinded by Southern California's annual meteorological hostage situation – June Gloom. Somewhere above that thick gray ceiling, photons that began their journey before humans appeared are streaming across the cosmos, only to be intercepted by a marine layer that seems to have veto power over astronomy. Instead of observing the universe, I find myself imagining – The End of Everything (Astrophysically Speaking) by physicist Katie Mack. According to modern cosmology, the universe may eventually end in a Big Rip, a Big Crunch, Heat Death, Vacuum Decay, or some other catastrophe that sounds suspiciously like a rejected heavy-metal album title. Astrophysicists spend their careers calmly discussing the possibility that reality itself could suddenly cease to exist because a quantum field had a bad day. It's a remarkable way to start a Saturday morning. One moment you're contemplating the ultimate fate of spacetime...

Rediscovering the Magic of Summer . . .

Summer mornings, especially on a holiday weekend, have a special magic. The air is cool, the world quiet, and the day full of possibilities. This July 4th weekend, Lori and I decided to capture a bit of that magic by beating the holiday traffic with an early morning bicycle ride. We went through our usual pre-flight checklist: Stretched out the morning stiffness. Filled the water bottles. Strapped on the helmets. Checked the tires. Three tires passed inspection. The fourth had apparently declared independence. The rear tire on my e-bike was flatter than a Kansas highway. “Well, it looks like we’re not riding today,” Lori said, with the calm acceptance of someone who had already mentally promoted coffee to the day’s main event. “Why not?” I replied. “I’ll ride my old bike.” She gave me that look —the one that safely translates as, "Are you sure about this? " “Absolutely,” I said. “Why not?” I dragged the bike stand out and surveyed my options. One glance at the aggressive gear...

The Places You'll Go . . .

Well, the time has arrived. Yes, July's drawing near, And somehow I've managed to last seven years! I've analyzed forecasts and studied the trends, While spreadsheets multiplied without seeming to end. We've planned for the sunshine, the storms, and the load, while Mother Nature kept changing the code. But through all the numbers, the forecasts, and charts, the best part of Cenergy's always been hearts. The people beside me, year after year, Made even the toughest challenges clear. To the bright, talented folks reading this today, The future is yours now—you're well on your way. And unlike my era, here's the key: You’ll work with AI just as smooth as can be. The reports that took hours may take only minutes. The models you build with intelligence in it. The data will flow faster than ever before, While AI handles tasks that are mostly a bore! But here's my advice as I head out the door: Technology changes, but people matter more. AI can predict, calcula...