Shadow

 End of April(ish) 2012-August 2026

We adopted Shadow and Cricket on Independence Day, back in '12.  Imp wasn't quite 4, and Pixie was just about 19 months.  And we went to PetSmart to let them look at the critters, since the zoo was over an hour away.  There was a kennel cage with two kittens, about 10 weeks* or so, wrestling.  They stopped abruptly when the kids squealed, and rushed to the bars to scream and reach for the kids.  

We'd lost Binx a few weeks earlier, and I was slowly coming apart without a cat.  So, since those two fuzzballs wanted my kids so desperately...we adopted them.  Both.  So the kids wouldn't fight over a single kitten, and so one kitten wouldn't be lonely.  

Shadow was...Shadow was terribly smart.  Terrifyingly smart.  And brave.  Cricket, when we got her home, hid out for a little while; Shadow explored.   Shadow napped on the kids while they watched Tom & Jerry.  Shadow went to bed at night with Imp (she didn't stay there).  But she slept on Imp every night until about January, when she became too frail for him to want her to jump down from his half-loft.  He hasn't slept nearly as well since then, either. 

Shadow would bap Cricket on the head and then run from her--and then abruptly change direction, while Cricket kept going for a while...I swear she was laughing at her much dimmer sister.  

When the cats were five and the kids were six and eight, we moved into a much bigger house.  

Cricket hid for three days.  Shadow explored, found that she could thunder from one end of the house to the other, and use the hall runner to slide a few feet. She'd do that over and over for years, because it was fun.  She discovered...the full length mirror on the back of the master bathroom door.  Which was fascinating.  And she realized, pretty quickly, that that was her in the mirror.  

She loved this house.  There were mice in the garage that she could catch and eat.  And wow, did she do a LOT of that.  And sometimes, she'd come in from hunting with cobwebs in her whiskers that she had trouble cleaning out, and she'd go to the bathrooms, to one of the mirrors, and use that to clean the cobwebs out of her whiskers.  

A few years ago, she learned to talk--a few words, garbled.  I was not expecting that.  She'd say Imp's name, out, mouse, yeah, and no.  And Mama.  I found out she knew how to say help, one time when she had a hairball: "Oh, no. Oh, no.  Oh, no, no, no."  Hurk.  "Mama, halp!" hurk-splat "ew."   

She'd started losing weight a couple of years ago.  Slow.  And then, this year, right at the beginning she took a hard downturn.  It's been a hard seven months, watching her fade, and trying to fight it.   Watching her struggle and fight it.  She didn't want to go, until suddenly she did.  

We loved her very much.  I suspect she loved all of us (including that irritating dog) just as much.  

I will miss her for the rest of my life.  

It's been a long year...

And we haven't made it to August, yet. 

Imp failed first semester biology.  In spite of trying really hard to not.  Was the teacher and the way the class was structured, not just his information retention and unwillingness to expend effort on a failing proposition.  My stress levels jacked way the hell up.

Then. Back in January, Shadow stopped eating.  Entirely.  I managed to pull her through the crisis, but it took a lot of time, effort, and stress.  Which led to February.  

In February, I got sick. Again.  Flu-adjacent.  I never take viruses to the doctor, since there's jack-all they can do; however, this time, one dose of Anacin really hurt.  And then, the toddy in the evening to knock the virus back a bit felt like pouring rubbing alcohol on a scraped knee.  

In my stomach.  I'd expected it with the sore throat, but not...not my stomach.  That sent me to the doctor.   She said it was eminently possible that I did, indeed have ulcers, but that it was likely stress-induced, in my case (and she wasn't wrong).  She gave me a prescription for six weeks of PPI, and switched my brands of natural thyroid to the one that worked better.  

And the cat had another downturn, just after I finished up my six weeks of PPI at the end of March.  MUCH more stress.  I pulled her through it, and managed to get her to gain a little weight. Not much, but a little. So that was a relief.

Oh, and Imp passed third quarter biology...barely.  As in, one half of a percentage point appeared to bring him up to 60% on his third quarter grades.  Out of nowhere. That was something of a relief, too, but it was very short lived.  

Toward the end of the school year, the cat had yet another downturn, but not as bad.  

The Imp, on the other hand...well.  I'm working on a piece explaining the shit-show that ended the school year, there. 

And so, we're at the beginning of July, and Shadow has decided it's time to go.  I can't get her to eat. I can't get her to drink, at this point.  She's shutting down, and cold, even as she lifts her head to squeak when I go check on her. 

I haven't gotten anything done except rushing around trying (and failing) to put out fires.  I don't have anything finished and ready to publish.  I mean, I've got one project about half done, and a collection of shorts about 2/3 done.  NOT planned shorts, not a planned collection, just...well. I get mugged by stuff that demands to be written immediately, or else it shuts down the main projects until I do. Faster to write the damned stories. 

 Oh, and my laptop's giving signs that it wants to die.  I am going to need a new one.  I'm trying to keep it going at least until we can take advantage of the back-to-school sales tax holiday.  And we're also going to need a new printer.  And a laptop for Imp, since I'm responsible for that.  And textbooks.   

August isn't going to be any better.  I'll still be grieving Shadow (and probably spoiling Cricket a bit), and I'll be pushing to get both kids ready for the school year.  I'm really not sure how anything's going to shake out for the next year, at least, and possibly the next two years.  

Iz out!

 

 

Mad Science: Bits and Pieces, Raconteur Press's 73rd short story anthology, dropped live a day early.  

Yes, folks, that means it's out today! Go get yours!  

I haz a happy!

A few weeks back, I sent a story to Raconteur Press, for one of their upcoming anthologies.  The specific one will go live a week from Friday.

I...wasn't expecting to, but I got in.  I signed the contract and sent it back, and dealt with the editor's suggestions as promptly as I could, but I kept expecting to get bumped.  

I didn't get bumped.

And today, I learned...

The census counts. Counts CITIZENS.

 Back when the Constitution was being drafted (in the late eighteenth century), the census was something fought over between the free states and the slave states.  You see, the slave states (Democrat run, Southern) wanted their slaves all counted in the census.  For reasons.  

The Northern states didn't want them counted at all. 

Huh?  What?  WTF, over?  Wasn't the North anti-slavery?  

Well...yes.  And that was the fucking point.

If the North had allowed the South to count each of their non-citizen, non-voting slaves in the census, then the South would have completely overwhelmed the North in the House of Representatives, which held the strings to the purse.  They'd never have been able to do anything to their benefit, never be able to do anything to help the slaves.  The nation we live in now would not exist.  

It would not have survived the first challenge, even.  

However, the South would not agree to the North's demand that no slave gets counted; by that measure, the North would bury them in the House of Representatives.  And the South would get...well.  Not anything it wanted.  

Eventually, a compromise was reached: slaves would count in the census, but only as just barely over half a person: one slave counted as 3/5 of a person.  

When I learned about this in school, I was taught it was because the people writing the Constitution thought that they weren't human, and shouldn't count.  I was taught that the 3/5 Compromise was evil and racist.  

It wasn't.  It was a heroic effort expended by both sides to fight for representation for their population, regarding taxation and apportionment.  When the 3/5 Compromise was reached, nobody was happy about it.  Both sides hated it equally for different reasons: the North because the people being counted had no rights under the law; the South because they lacked the industry and population of the North, and were counting on being able to count the slaves to be allowed to keep them as slaves without right to recourse or redress.   

Fast forward almost 200 years.  We're having the same, damn argument again.  Made by the spiritual descendants of those slave-owning Democrats.  With the same, damn reasoning. The Census is supposed to count citizens.  To apportion seats in the House of Representatives, and for tax and funding purposes. 

The Democrat party wants all illegals counted under the census.  People who are not citizens, not allowed to vote, not allowed to fucking be here.  They aren't here legally, do not belong here, and...collect welfare in Democrat run states.

Without those individuals counted, the Democrats will lose a lot of seats.  

This time, we cannot compromise.  Just because they live here doesn't mean they're citizens.  Only citizens--born and naturalized alike--should be counted in the census.  

The last time we compromised, we ended up in a bloody war about it just over half a century later.  And the scars from that still haven't healed. 

This is stupid. Let me show why.

  

Okay.  I see the math.  I'm going to show why her math doesn't work.  

She's looking at gross only.  The top line.  From that amount, she'll need to subtract overhead--that's facilities costs.  How much does her building cost to rent?  Probably a lot, because she only needs the one, big room.  Say a storefront downtown.  Renting means she doesn't have to pay for repairs and other maintenance costs...directly.  How much does her power bill run?  Her water/sewer bill?  The trash bill?  The gas bill for heating?  Yeah, that's a ton more.  Best figure the facilities cost will run around $200K.  Maybe $250K.  Minimum.  

That leaves...somewhere between $127K and $77,600.  

Cool.  Now figure your janitor's wages.  You're not getting one for less than $20K per year...and that's part time.  

So.  That pulls it down to $107-$57,600.   

But wait!  There's MORE!!!  

This silly bitch be a public school teacher.  Public schools provide breakfast and lunch on their dime for around half of the students.  That involves food costs, and salaries for cooks!  

There goes another $50K!  Minimum!  So...her share's shrinking.  Hugely.  

Okay.  Let's assume she's not going to transport the little darlings herself, since that would leave her in the red.  Let's look at...insurance.  Insurance is going to eat probably another $30-50K/year.  

Her take-home is going to be maybe $14K, if she's lucky, and has the brains to cut a LOT of deals. (Which, on balance, given her starting premise with no thought, I doubt she's capable of.) 

Suddenly, that starting teachers' salary of $27-$37K is looking a whole lot better, isn't it?

Coming up as of next week:

 The Last History-Keeper: a Liquid Diet Chronicles Tale

 

Imagine what it would be like to remember all of history.

Justinian doesn’t have to imagine. He’s the last of a nearly-lost line of vampires, the last keeper of history, hunted by tyrant and monster alike, alive only because of the grace of God, and the luck of having an early pope hide him from those hunting him. He’s been in the catacombs of Vatican City ever since, hidden and safe.

But now...now he’s needed. Vampire, priest, visionary, historian, he’s been sent forth into the world, to walk it once again.

His ordained path leads him to...Manhattan, Kansas. To a brand new nest, filled with orphans and outcasts. And the journey takes him into the path of those who need his help: a six year old girl with an unmanageable memory, and a brand new line with gifts that terrify.