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southern voice
OCTOBER 21/1993
Commending a furry friend to the universe
Last month, I lost one of my cats. Malcolm
was 10 1/2 years old, a beautiful, long-haired
orange cat, or, if you prefer, a fuzzy Garfield
(though he would not have appreciated the
comparison). Named after Malcolm McDowell
(in the movie “Cat People”), he had moved
here with me from Montgomery as a kitten.
His flea allergy developed about five years
ago, but I soon moved to an apartment where
neither he nor my other cat, Aengus, could get
out. Because there was no contact with fleas,
he was fine.
Well, 1 moved again in March of this year
to a place where they could get out, and when
they did, they loved it so much—Malcolm
spent his first entire night out in six years, not
showing up until 11 a.m. the next morning—
that I sort of (but not really) forgot about the
allergy.
And when the fleas started rolling in,
Malcolm’s response was far worse than be
fore. This time around, he would sit in vari
ous, flea-free spaces around the house—win
dow sills, arms of couches—for days at a time.
And, as before, his beautiful, Persian-length
orange fur was being clawed out in a desperate
effort to get at the fleas.
I escalated to the next stage, flea baths, but
other problems arose. Every time I gave
Malcolm a flea bath (which required me to get
in the tub with him, holding him from behind
to keep from being scratched to pieces), he
would spend the next two or even three days,
sitting in his spot, hardly moving. The remedy
was as toxic as the problem.
Two flea bombs later, I finally went
nuclear—Home Depot’s hormone-filled for
mula, major vacuuming, cats overnight at the
vet’s for dipping. When I picked him up, the
vet mentioned that Malcolm was quite sick.
She feared kidney failure was imminent and
recommended tests. And I, trying to save
money to buy a house, was tom.
Question: Was a 10-year-old cat worth “he
roic medical measures” when the money is
needed elsewhere? Question Reframed: Should
a 10-year-old companion be given the honor
and respect of a real effort to pull him through
his crisis? And if not, when and how do you
decide to have him “put to sleep?” Hillary and
her plan would be of no help here, but Malcolm
would have answers in due time.
Malcolm was never a playful cat. I think
his long hair caused him to put on airs (unlike
his short-haired offspring, Aengus, who would
plop himself down on his back on the side
walk in front of strangers to get them to scratch
his stomach—behavior that was not unlike that
of his owner, as a previous boyfriend once
pointed out to me).
No, Malcolm was more an Attitude Cat, as
pointed out in a story from his youth. When I
brought him home, he was so terrified from
the car ride that he ran behind the refrigerator
and meowed and bellowed until he perma
nently damaged his vocal cords, leaving this
regal and imposing figure with only a very
squeaky half-meow. I often flashed on Bert
Lahr, the Cowardly Lion in “The Wizard of
Oz,” as the appropriate comparison.
But Malcolm always had a strong sense of
how far he would not go—especially with
things such as messy litter boxes and sleep
times for the person who was supposed to feed
him. He wasn’t very patient when you crossed
one of his lines. “Don’t indulge yourself at my
discomforted expense,” he often reminded.
Malcolm was still “unfixed” ttnd roaming
around the neighborhood when this little or
ange furball showed up on the back steps one
day. Malcolm usually ran off other neighbor
hood cats, but he let Aengus hang around. I’ve
always considered this the kitty equivalent of
acknowledging paternity. “You smell too much
like me—I guess I’ll have to let you stay.”
Actions elicit responsibilities, I saw him im
ply, as he licked Aengus’ forehead one day.
And Malcolm detested my abusive first
lover. If Malcolm were sitting near me and
heard the key turn and the wrong footsteps on
the stairway, he would run from the couch and
hide under the bed. I initially attributed this to
his skittishness. It wasn’t until later that I real
ized that Malcolm was probably being as mis
treated by my ex as I was, only he was react
ing with self-respect and protection. My early
warning system failed me, but only because 1
wasn’t listening for the alarm.
Back to 1993.1 continued to dither and be
wishy-washy about what to do, so Malcolm
took matters into his own paws. I came home
from work one night, and, as soon as the door
opened, he bolted past me and out into the
evening. “OK,” I thought, “Enjoy yourself to
night. I’ll take you into the vet’s tomorrow
morning.” And that was the last time I saw
him. My downstairs neighbor fed him the next
day, hardly recognizing this gaunt stray as
Malcolm. Neither of us has seen him since.
Malcolm chose the instinctual response—
into nature, allowing the elements to deal with
him appropriately. I guilted myself back and
forth for a week for not getting him into the
vet’s sooner. And then I considered how much
he enjoyed being out again, and I couldn’t
accept that being on the wrong end of a vet’s
needle was better than his chosen way of leav
ing.
And on his way out, I learned that, first,
I’m not a great caretaker, and I need to address
that for myself, as well as my pets; second,
I’m neither an animal rights-er nor a sentimen
talist, because I couldn’t justify exorbitant
medical bills for a cat, no matter how beloved;
and, third, I cared for and fedltim for 10 years,
and that should not be diminished because of
my clueless response to his difficulties this
summer.
Ultimately, I can say about Malcolm what
someone once said about a dying soldier—
that nothing became him in his life more than
his manner of leaving it. When it’s my time to
go, I hope I do so with the grace and courage
that Malcolm demonstrated.
Bye, Malcolm. You sat there, usually qui
etly, and witnessed the various tricks, boy
friends, lovers and changes that passed through
my life in Atlanta. You were a good compan
ion for 10 years, and I hope you found me an
acceptable owner.
I commend you to the universe.
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by CARL LANGE
Reviewing the Review
American Journalism Review maga
zine covers a range of media-related is
sues and is widely read by journalists and
academics, as well as the general public.
The July/August issue of AJR includes
two noteworthy articles.
In “Taking It to the Streets,” Kim 1.
Mills explores the contested boundaries
between journalism and activism. She ex
amines the potential conflicts of interests,
personal and professional, that can arise
for journalists who arc also involved in
various civil rights and social justice
causes. As a case in point, Mills gives
ample attention to the National Lesbian
and Gay Journalists Association (NLGJA)
and “gay reporters on the gay beat.” All in
all, the article’s approach is informed and
thought-provoking.
Send comments to Rem Rider, editor
and senior vice president, American Jour
nalism Review; 4716 Pontiac St., Suite
310, College Park, MD 20740-2493. The
telephone number is (301)513-0001.
What’s Ailing CNBC?
Roger Ailes has been named president
of CNBC, the cable television talk-show
and business news network. Available on
4,000 systems nationwide, CNBC reaches
48.5 million cable subscribers. As part of
his new job, Ailes will also be in charge
of another NBC cable channel, “America’s
Talking,” scheduled to premiere in 1994.
We should all be alarmed.
Even a quick glance at Roger Ailes’
right-wing resume is cause for concern.
Ailes was media adviser to Presidents
Nixon, Reagan and Bush. He put together
the exceedingly racist “Willie Horton”
campaign ads for the 1988 presidential
election. He is—and will continue to be—
the executive producer of “The Rush
Limbaugh Show.”
According to NBC president Robert
Wright, Roger Ailes is “ one of a kind in
the television business. He represents a
unique combination of promoter, entre
preneur and, above all, a highly talented
television producer.” Would you care to
add “mercenary bigot” to that list, Mr.
Wright?
Certainly, nothing in Roger Ailes re
sume suggests that he has the ability or
the will to provide fair and accurate cov
erage of women, people of color, the poor
or the lesbian, gay and bisexual commu
nities. Contact Robert Wright and CNBC
today to share your concerns. Write to
Robert Wright, president, National Broad
casting Company, 30 Rockefeller Plaza,
New York,. NY 10021. The telephone
number is (212) 212-664-4444. Or write
CNBC, 3000 W. Alameda Avc„ Burbank,
CA91523. The telephone number is (818)
840-4488.
This week’s articles are by A1
Kielwasser of GLAAD/SFBA.
Upcoming events: Speakers Bureau:
Monday, Nov. 1. 7 p.m. at the Peachtree
Library across from the High Museum.
Introduction and training for those inter
ested in being speakers.
This column is a product of the Gay &
Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation!At
lanta, Inc. For more information, or to
report an instance of defamation, contact
GLAADIAtlanta at PO Box55Ill, Atlanta
GA 30308 or call (404) 605-7477.