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I didn’t give much thought to the decision when I moved into the neighbourhood. The veterinary clinic was a five-minute walk from where I lived, and my neighbour took her dog there and liked it.

I first took Benjy there a few days after getting him from the SPCA. It was to be a checkup, but Benjy had developed an infection of some sort. Dr. Jack Brondwin, the veterinarian, estimated Benjy’s age to be about 14 weeks, commented on how beautiful he was, and prescribed some antibiotics for him. A few days later, Benjy was almost better again.

Until Benjy was about 12, the reasons for visits were mostly routine — vaccinations, allergies, occasional injuries. When his health problems developed, having a good veterinarian to consult with became a lot more important. What are the options and the new developments for treating each health condition? How can holistic and conventional treatments work together? What steps need to be taken when?

When your veterinarian is someone you can discuss all of the above with, the stress of taking care of a sick pet is more manageable. When the veterinarian shows how much he cares about animals and is someone you’ve gotten to know throughout your pet’s life, you and your pet are even more fortunate.

One day, I stopped at the clinic shortly before closing time to pick up some medication. Jack and I got into a long conversation about our personal views on health treatment. While we were talking, I realized that he was probably the person I’d be sharing the last moments of my cat’s life with.

He was. It was an awful time, but having a veterinarian that I knew and trusted provide the final advice for Benjy kept it from being even worse.

Thanks, Jack. And thanks also to all the other caring staff members at your clinic. I hope that other pet owners can be as fortunate as Benjy and I were.

I feel his paws on me as he walks over me on the bed to get to the stepstool, and then he jumps onto it and to the floor. I marvel at how he can walk by himself again.

His legs carry him easily to the kitchen. From the bed where I’m barely awake, I hear his food dish slide on the kitchen floor as he eats from it. It’s loud. And it continues. I should get out of bed to find out if this is just a dream or if I’ll actually see him. I’ve heard of cats appearing in dreams or as ghosts.

Before I can get up, I fall back asleep. And then I wake and remember.

I keep looking over from where I sit at the computer to see how he’s doing. He’s needed help getting on and off the sofa and bed for some time now, even with the stepstools I put next to them.

The kidney disease wasted his muscles. He’d gotten so wobbly when he walked — or sometimes just tried to walk — that I started carrying him between the food and water dishes, the litter box, and his places to sleep. I had to support him when he was in the litter box so that he didn’t fall over. The other day, he rolled off a pillow and became stuck between the edge of the bed and the wall until I saw him and picked him up.

I found him at the SPCA in October 1989. When I took him out of the cage, he snuggled against me, and the bond started right then. The vet estimated his age to be about 14 weeks.

Like all kittens, he was playful. I remember how he’d attack my socks while I was putting them on in the morning. He kept his playfulness as an adult until the last few years, when arthritis limited his mobility.

He used to sit on the sidewalk in front of the house so that passersby would stop and pet him. When they did, he liked to follow them afterwards. More than once I received a phone call from someone calling the number on his nametag saying, “I just stopped to pet your cat, and he followed me home. Can you come and get him?”

One time a neighbour I’d never met stopped by. He was moving, and he wanted to say good-bye to Benjy.

He loved to explore the garden or just sit in the sunshine. His other favourite places were the patio deck and table or anyone’s lap. As stories of coyotes killing cats increased, I wanted to keep him in the yard. For a while, I only let him outside on a long leash. When he wasn’t able to climb any more, we fixed the fence so that he couldn’t get under or through it, and he was able to enjoy the backyard on his own again.

Like many cats, Benjy had a fascination for running water. He used to jump up to the bathroom sink to drink from the tap. When he couldn’t jump any more, I lifted him up to the sink. Eventually I got him a pet water fountain and plugged it into a timer so that he wouldn’t wake me up in the middle of the night to demand running water.

He was about 13 when the health problems started. Kidney failure, liver disease, arthritis, and hyperthyroidism added to the aging process. Still, he did well for a few years. Then he gradually got thinner and weaker. He’d always been very affectionate, but he became more emotionally needy as he became more dependent on me physically. He often sat or slept on my lap while I was working at the computer. At night, he waited for me to go to bed so that he could sleep next to me, and he wouldn’t stay on the bed until I was there.

His kidney disease meant that he had to use the litter box increasingly often. In the past couple of weeks, I got up several times a night, as soon as I heard him move, to carry him to the litter box. He could walk (although barely) once he’d been up for a while, but when he first woke up, he could walk only a few steps. His legs would give out under him, and he’d look up at me in confusion and wait for me to carry him to his destination.

How attached can a person and a cat be? We couldn’t share words, but that never felt like a barrier in our communication.

Yesterday morning, he could barely raise his head. His breathing was sometimes laboured, and he was having difficulty swallowing. He wasn’t at all interested in food or water. It was his time.

I don’t think he was ready to go. I certainly wasn’t ready to say good-bye to him. But his body had given out, and he was suffering. He lay on my lap for hours while I stroked and brushed him until the vet came. Soon after that, it was over for him.

I still keep looking to see how he’s doing.

They were asleep in their beds, and a few minutes later, they were packed in lifeboats, without warm clothes and some without even shoes, in the rain.

Those few minutes started at 12:25 AM today. A ferry was on its overnight route from Port Hardy on Vancouver Island to Prince Rupert on BC’s northern coast, and it had moved off-course from the rough waves. It hit a rock.

A distress call went out. Residents of an isolated fishing village heard it and rushed out to the sinking ferry with their boats. They, along with people on the Coast Guard boat that happened to be in the area, pulled people from the lifeboats and into their boats. They took them to Hartley Bay, the nearby village of about 200.

Like the Titanic, the ferry tilted until its nose was pointing up, and then it sunk into the water. Unlike the Titanic, it took less than one hour rather than several hours to sink. Those who were there described the sound of the cars on the ferry crashing into each other as the ferry disappeared into the ocean.

The village community hall became the emergency shelter. In the middle of the night, just about everyone in Hartley Bay was awake and helping. They provided food, coffee, blankets, clothing, and comfort.

Except for possibly two passengers who are unaccounted for, all the passengers of Queen of the North are safe. But the coastal communities are now without ferry transportation. People are stranded at both ends of the route. Tourism will also suffer until another ferry can be put on the coastal route.

The “what to do now” discussions will start soon. But with 99+ people rescued in a short time, the overall feeling now is relief.

More information is in these articles:

• B.C. Ferry sinks; two unaccounted for
• Small community cares for survivors
• Passengers stranded on lifeboats in stormy seas

The air was warmer than usual the day we ascended Haleakala. It was thin at 6700 feet, where we’d camped the night before. We left our camping gear at the wilderness campground and pedalled up, observing the vegetation change and the clouds disappear below us. We paced ourselves, as we had on our route around the island, and within a few hours, we were at the top of the volcano, at 10,023 feet.

We looked into the crater. We walked around, and we ate the lunch we’d packed. We celebrated our journey together. And then we decended the volcano, stopping to pack our camping gear onto our bikes on the way down. We cycled past the clouds and all the way back to sea level.

Ken and I turned out to be excellent travelling partners, but finding out how we’d travel together was part of the adventure.

That ascent took place in February 2000. A few weeks earlier…

We’d chosen a café in the little Italy part of town to meet at because it was central to the four of us. After we all arrived, I announced, “Today is my birthday, and I expect good things to happen today.”

“Hey, today’s my birthday too,” said Ken.

Three of us cyclists belonged to the local bicycle club. Ken, whom I hadn’t met before, was a friend of someone in the club. We’d come together to talk about doing a bicycling trip in Hawaii together.

“Really? Then let’s make good things happen today.”

Over the hubub of Italian, the four of us talked about the various Hawaiian Islands. We decided on Maui in February. Coincidentally, a travel agency was almost next door to the café. The other two people wanted to wait, but Ken and I wanted to make something happen on our birthday, so we bought our tickets that day.

And then the other two people decided not to go on the trip.

I’d had a good feeling about Ken, and my intuition about people is usually right. Since our Maui bicycle tour, we’ve stayed friends. We get together on or around our birthday to celebrate it together.

This year, we went for a long drive in his new car. When we went uphill, we remembered climbing Maui hills together. We relived the rush of ascending a volcano by bicycle. We talked and played more easily now that we’ve known each other for years rather than weeks.

I also remember the little things. How easily we shared the responsibilities of shopping and cooking and carrying our gear. How we helped each other. How, as experienced travellers, we gave each other enough space that we didn’t irritate the other person, but we were bicycle touring partners for 10 days. Travelling by bicycle is work as well as fun, and sharing that work is part of the experience.

Happy belated birthday, Ken. It’s always good to see you again.

For memory’s sake, the first photo below was taken on the road from Hana, before we ascended Haleakala. The second one was taken when we drove out to Harrison together a couple of weeks ago.