Technical Difficulties

Archie Goodwin a.k.a. Catzilla
March 2006 - February 21, 2025

We found Archie in our flowerbed in July 2006 when he was 4 months old. No idea where he came from. We never saw any sign of a mama cat or siblings. He had been out on his own for a while, judging by his parasite load and the other contents of his poop, but he was definitely not feral. So we adopted him.

He was a spoiled brat of a cat, but he was also affectionate and funny and extremely patient with bipedal whims. He did not like laps, although he would sometimes come and sit on you tensely, as if to prove he could do it. He did love snuggling in bed and had finally worked out how to do it so that he was neither strangling me nor completely blocking my view with his fluffy butt. And he had the best deep, loud, rumbling purr. He came and snuggled with me and purred last night, even though he has to have been feeling pretty crummy, and that's a gift.

When UW did the ultrasound of his abdomen this afternoon, they found a very large mass in his intestines, which absolutely had not been there in December. The enlarged lymph nodes looked like they were metatastic, the pancreas looked, in his UW vet's term, "gnarly," and when they checked his bloodwork, his bilirubin count had doubled since Wednesday, and it was astronomical then. So large-cell lymphoma, fast-growing and aggressive. And he had gotten so frail. I didn't think he could stand up to chemo, and the vet said she honestly doubted chemo would even help.

So I called it. He was blissed out on the sedatives from the ultrasound. It seemed stupid and cruel to wait long enough for them to wear off. I told him I loved him, I told him he was a good boy, I told him it was okay for him to let go.

He died in my arms and I drove home with an empty cat carrier.

Dear Jay,

I hate your cancer with all my heart.

We have never been close friends, but I have always liked and admired you, for your kindness; your generosity; your passion; your mindfulness and devotion to your responsibilities as a parent; your sense of humor and your unerring eye for the ridiculous; your unflagging love of our genre; the courage with which you aver your convictions and engage with those who disagree with you; the way that you make rooms brighter and warmer just by being in them.

You introduced me to the term "faith-based reasoning," which is such a useful and paradigm-shifting cognitive tool I cannot even tell you.

I have the Campbell nomination pin because you decided the Campbell nomination pin should exist and made it be so, and I am grateful.

My life is better because I know you.

Fuck cancer.

Love,
Sarah