The Testing of Trump

A few days ago, Russia flew a small number of service personal into Venezuela. What he understood, perhaps from his intervention in Syria, is that while the US might use military force in "shit-hole" countries, it won't take action that might harm Russian soldiers and cause a dangerous escalation.

Putin is daring Trump to act. While the US president has said all options are on the table, Putin's move effectively removes a military option from those the President has to work with.  Now that's some pretty good strategizing.   

Farewell, Sweet Pea

This evening we laid Sweet-Pea to rest.

How old she was we don't know. But in the year she lived with us, after being abandoned in Yosemite, she had at least some time with a family that loved her. In the last six months she developed a interest in science fiction, read some of Dana Perino's autobiography and took a dim view of the machinations at Theranos, curled up on my lap for an hour or so every evening after supper. In the last three weeks she was even accepted by the others, and came to sleep with Judith.

My first encounter with her outside her cage wasn't the most auspicious.  She was just a skeleton thinly wrapped with paper thin skin and tufts of hair. But when I picked he up to put her back in her make-shift prison, she let out a growl worthy of a mountain lion. And when I scuffed her tiny scrawny neck, she whipped her head round and sank her teeth firmly into my hand.

But I spent more time with her and eventually we got on fine. Most days she'd take her pill (for hyperthyroidism) in a single bite of trader Joe's cat food pate; not the green tin but the brown and pink were fine. And she was delighted when we got her her very own water fountain.  She really loved running water, and her pee, which had been sweet and thick, became a little more normal.

For a while I thought she might be at least stable if not getting stronger.  As I worked to get her integrated with the hoards, first letting here explore my office and then with supervised visitation around the rest of the house, the others gradually accepted her. But it wasn't to be. I think everyone understood how sick she was. She was always struggling, but as sick and weak as she was, she still managed to climb into my lap and onto my desk. 
    
In the end, her emaciated body couldn't carry her feisty spirit any further. She sent her last day with Judith, who handed her to me when I came to bed in order that she could get some sleep. And at about 11:30pm, lying across my chest, she gave a quiet little gasp: and she was gone, gently and peacefully to a better life, unencumbered mortal coils that had constrained her.  Sweet-Pea, we miss you, but we're grateful for the time you shared with us.

Multiple stages

Shakespeare (and Rush) noted that "All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players". But we are all also each other's audiences, watching, interpreting, commenting on, the dramas unfolding around us.