Saturday the vet came, a lovely older man with his own mobile unit. Dede had spent the night with us, nestled cozily between our two warm bodies. She had been brushed and fed slivers of turkey and dishes of ice cream, and cuddled, and in general treated like a queen.

When the vet examined her, he said flatly, "She's not ready to go."

Not ready...?

"She has too much life in her. She's movng like a sixteen year old cat, but she's got the spirit of a ten year old. Her coat is glossy. Her lungs and her heart are fine."

"But she hasn't really been eating," C said.

"There's still a nice pad of musculature on her spine. Her bones are not showing through. No, she's not ready. And more to the point, neither are you."

"That's for sure," I said.

"It's probably adjustment issues. When did you say you moved in here?"

"And she hasn't been getting as much exercise..."

"We're thinking of getting a baby gate so she can go up and down the stairs."

"Cats are sensitive to changes in their environment. Give her a little time to get used to things. She'll perk up. There's life in the old girl yet."

We thanked him profusely, a very relieved and in shock C happily wrote out a check, and since then we've been having threesomes at night. Dede gets free reign of the upstairs, and she wanders at will between our bedroom and C's study/music studio. She's getting even more spoiled, if that were humanly possible, and her appetite has picked up.

Saturday night we went to a joint concert: Linda Tillery and the Cultural Heritage Choir, and Keith Terry's Crosspulse. Amazing. Such fullness, excellence, passion, technique, cross-cultural fertilization, respect and love among the musicians and dancers. Such a packed, innovative show, with polyrhythm, roots music, body percussion, bluegrass, and exuberant joy. It's one of the best concerts I've seen in a long time--made me grateful to live here among such cultural richness.