The Full Monty :: First Floor

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Coffee is for Closers - Part 3

We left the vet's office with an empty cat carrier and heavy hearts. I had red-swollen eyes, a sore throat and a splitting headache from all the crying and stress. And we still hadn't dealt with the real biggie of the day… the closing. We drove back home in time for me to put Simone down for a nap, wash my face, reapply mascara and pick-up Tate at his friend's house. We then raced home to meet Nana, who was watching the kids while Dave and I went to the lawyer's office to sign on the dotted lines and finally become the owners of one really crappy, little house.

I walked into the lawyer's office in a trance-like state. A bit of an out-of-body experience, as I was weak from not eating all day and exhausted already from earlier events. I was prepared to spend a hour signing my name on pages and pages of documents, before being handed a new set of keys. However, when you buy a house without a mortgage, there are only two pieces of paper to sign. That's it. Two. We were done in less than five minutes. I have to say it was rather anticlimactic. Done in under five.

Though, what should have been an extremely happy and joyous day, was so overshadowed by the death of Matisse, that we went home, had dinner and just plopped on the couch for the rest of the night. There was no popping of champagne corks, no celebratory sensation in the air. Just exhaustion and a feeling of thankfulness that we actually made it through the day.

So, we'll save our champagne toasts for the day the old house gets knocked down. Or the day the new foundation is poured. Or the day the last workers clear out of the new house and hand over our keys. We have lots of amazing events to look forward to and celebrate soon. There is plenty of time for champagne and wine and jubilation.

Coffee is for Closers - Part 2

While Dave was off being judged on his ethics, I was home receiving the phone call from the vet that Matisse, our 15 year old cat, was in total renal failure. Her exact words were something like, "Judging by these test numbers, I don't think his kidneys are working at all. You should really think about what you want to do."

The Saturday before, Tate caught a glimpse of the ever skittish Matisse from the corner of his eye and pounced just in time to catch the sleek and stealthy black cat in his grasp. We let Tate hold him for a few minutes, as it was very rare that Tate got to even pet this cat. When we finally made Tate release him, we noticed that Matisse was limping a bit. Later in the day, he wasn't really any better and that's when we realized that he hadn't been eating all that much recently either, and seemed to have experienced a very quick weight loss. Sunday, we kept him quiet and he spent most of the day in our bedroom which is rare. Not once did he venture upstairs to his favorite hide-away. Monday, I called the vet and brought him in for some tests. They suspected renal problems and rehydrated him and did some bloodwork to determine what we were dealing with. Their advice was that he might not be all that bad, and that we could probably keep him comfortable and happy for a while with regular hydration. So there, in the vet's office, while Tate looked on and Simone screamed in the vet tech's arms, I learned how to administer sub-cutaneous fluids to a kitty. That first needle poke was rather frightening for me, but Matisse took it like a champ. He was always a very accommodating cat. I took him home that afternoon, planning on becoming Florence Nightengale to my ever stoic, regal little boy. If I had to stick him with a needle every day, I would do it, so that he would feel better. He was a super sweet cat, and it was worth putting in the effort for him.

However, the next day I answered the call from the vet that confirmed he was sicker than we hoped, and that he really had no hope for survival beyond a few days. When Dave came home from the Ethics Commission meeting, we squirreled away from the kids to talk about what we were going to do. It was one of the hardest conversations we've ever had. How do you discuss putting down one of your animals? What's the right thing thing to say? No matter how much you know your doing the right thing, your still making a decision to kill a cat you've cared about for 15 years. We were devastated for us, we loved that cat. And we were devasted for Tate, it was the first time he would lose something he really loved. We called the vet and made an appointment for 1pm, and then arranged for Tate to go to a friend's house. We took photos of us with Matisse while saying our good-byes. Packed everyone up, dropped Tate at his friend Grace's house and then drove to Providence.

When we arrived in the vet's office, we were quickly ushered into a room to await the event. I really don't think I can find the words to describe how I felt at that moment. Or during. It was so hard. And so sad. But we held him as he went to sleep and then dropped tears onto his fur as he took his last breathe. He knew he was loved, and in that moment it was the best we could do.

I remember the day we got him. My then boss's mom's cat had babies under the porch of her house in Newport. The kittens were wrapped up in the umbilical cord and needed to be untangled. One of the kittens didn't make it. Eight weeks later, I was picking out one of the kittens to take home. I was smart and chose the only kitten NOT climbing the curtains in the house. He was a great cat. So regal and so well-behaved. He would hide for strangers, but was always present for us. He was so cool that he even played fetch. Our dog doesn't even play fetch, but Matisse did! I was crying while writing this and crying while choosing photos for this post.

I will always miss that boy. He was special.

That's one check for the sad/negative column.

Up next… the closing.

Coffee is for Closers - Part 1

The day of the closing was among one of the more emotionally draining days I've ever had in my life. It was filled with a lot of events that brought with them highs and lows, stresses and reliefs, indecision and decisions. I feel like I've been slowing down on posts, knowing that I was coming to this day and not really wanting to relive it through writing about it. I've been trying to avoid this day. But telling the story, means telling the whole story… so, for better or worse, here it goes.

1. Rhode Island Ethics Commission Hearing

The house lot we bought is small. It's 8000 square feet and only 50 feet wide. I've explained before that it meant we would have to go before the town's Zoning Board to request variances for the side yard and front yard setbacks as well as lot coverage… meaning we wanted to build beyond what was allowed and needed special permission to do so. Dave is on the Zoning Board, the same board we needed to go before and present our case. Before we made the offer, Dave checked to see if that would be allowed. He was told that it was probably fine, he'd just have to recuse himself from the vote, obviously. The next day we made the offer. Then two days later Dave talked to the board's lawyer, who had been on vacation the week before and was told he should really talk to the RI Ethics Commission (EC) to make sure. So he did. What we found out after talking to two different people at the EC was that Dave would actually have to present his case before the Ethics Commission and be granted a hardship variance in order to be allowed to then go before the Zoning Board for our building variance. If the EC said no, that it was not ethical for Dave to present before and seek a decision from a board that was an active member on, then we had only one course of action. Quit the zoning board and then wait a year before we could present before them.

A YEAR!?!?! Oh no. We didn't have a year we could wait. Not financially. Not emotionally. Not physically. Plus, we had entered into a contract to buy a property that we could not build on without a variance. If we backed out of the deal, we would lose the sizable deposit we made when we signed the Purchase and Sales Agreement. Talk about being between a rock and hard place. Up shit's creek without a paddle. Just plain screwed.

The EC's lawyer told Dave that she would be recommending that the board approve our request and that typically a person can act on that before going in front of the board, but that in our case we should not move forward because there was no recent case law precedent on what we were asking for. The most recent precedent (similiar case that was approved) was from 1998 and the make-up of the EC then was very different from the current EC, so they may not be of the same mindset. There should be no reason to say no to us, but if life teaches us anything, it's that nothing is guaranteed.

The hearing before the Ethics Commission was scheduled for the morning of our closing. Of course it was.

At 9am we would learn if we could go before the Zoning Board and at 4pm we would close on a property that absolutely needed a variance to build on. If the Ethics Commission did not go our way, we could back out of the closing and lose our deposit. But we could back out... if absolutely necessary.

At 9am, Dave arrived in Providence at the offices for the Ethics Commission and moments before entering the meeting learned that there were only five members of the EC present. Five members was quorum, but we also needed five "yeas" to be granted the permission we needed. We needed a unanimous YES.

Dave walked out of the meeting and called me immediately, "We received unanimous approval!"

We were deemed ethical!

One check in the happy/positive column.

Next up… dying cat.