Less than Invincible

The first thing I thought about when contemplating writing this is “What would Lil BUB do?” And I realize that Lil BUB would write this somewhat personal post that makes me look less than invincible. So, I will write it.

A cardiologist has recently diagnosed me with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. This means that my heart muscle has stiffened up and my blood flow has some backsplash. I have obvious heart murmurs. I have likely had it for at least two years, because there’s evidence of it in a stress cardiogram two years ago when the doctor had apparently missed it. It means that I get winded easier (but that could also be because I am big and out of shape). I’m being treated with a simple higher dose of blood pressure medication; it is irreversible, but we can keep it from getting worse.

Mayo Clinic, on their website, says that I will have almost as long a life as if I didn’t have it. Almost. That’s a sobering word, and it hints at an eventual demise not as pleasant as I had been hoping for. I’m 60, however, at the age when things like this develop. Other sources discuss other treatments for it in case it gets worse. Many of these are invasive.

I can’t quite grasp what I’m reading. Some sources (such as Mayo and my cardiologist, make it sound like it is not a big deal, while others make it sound dire. Mayo says most cases are familial, but my cardiologist says I would have lots of people dying young in my family if mine were so.

I’m not used to not knowing. I will talk to my primary care physician when I can get in, and maybe then I will understand. In the meantime, I will lose weight and take my hypertension medicine. But I feel fragile now, older, less certain of life.

But what would Lil BUB do? She would go on living her life with a joyous, silly smile.

What would Lil BUB do?

Yesterday, I watched Lil BUB’s Celebration of Life on streaming media. Lil BUB, a dwarf feline and once the Internet’s cutest cat, died four years ago of an aggressive bone infection. Before that, she was a furry bodhisattva whose very pictures caused millions of people to smile. She appeared in pictures and video, a documentary, her own short-lived TV show, and in live appearances for charity (where I once met her. She really was a furry bodhisattva.)

She was also an ordinary cat with disabilities. Her owner, Mike Bridavsky (otherwise known as “Dude”), said this himself at the memorial service. This little ordinary cat raised over $1 million for cat-related charities through Lil BUB’s Big Fund.

In other words, BUB, despite her size, was a Big Audacious Cat.

I felt inspired by watching BUB’s Celebration of Life. She could accomplish that much in eight years? I’m not as cute as she was, but I can remember to be as audacious. Did she shrink from taking new opportunities? Did she hide from recognition? Did she get daunted by potential failure? (Yes, I know, she’s just a cat. But she’s also a persona, it can be argued. Or a purrsona.)

When it comes to my writing now, when I’m afraid of promoting my work, or thinking of quitting, or discouraged by lack of recognition, I’m going to ask myself the question: What would Lil BUB do?

Cooling down

Hello cold snap.

It’s 36 degrees out and I’m wearing my Chicago Bubs sweater (see below):

which commemorates my favorite Internet-famous cat, Lil Bub.

I want to stay in all day basking by my fake woodstove and writing. But it’s a school day, and I have to teach.

Oh well.

Celebrity Cats Have Gone to the Dogs

I live my life simply, asking “Do I need it” before seriously considering “As Seen On TV” gadgets (and the answer is usually “no”.)

I am not inclined to buy the latest fashion, arranging my wardrobe into two categories: classic and long-lasting work clothes, and jeans/t-shirts* (even t-shirts with words on them, which are supposed to be passé for older women.)

I avoid television, mostly because I have an infinite attention span in the wrong moments — like, say. commercials. And celebrity is lost on me — I have no desire to get an autograph from Wolverine, Lorde, Chris what’s-his-name who played Captain America, or Oprah Winfrey. **

Therefore, I thought I was immune to the celebrity testimonial advertisements, which are supposed to make us feel closer to said celebrity if we buy these items. *** I wasn’t a namedropper, I didn’t covet fashion accessories, and I surveyed potential purposes by their usefulness.

And then came the Celebrity Cats.

For those of you who hate cats, the allure of Celebrity Cats has escaped you. You have never watched Surprise Kitty do jazz paws, or the round-faced Waffles demonstrating what cats look like when they’re in-bread (you do get the joke, don’t you?) And the slightly crosseyed Nala Cat, and the Boddhisattva from outer space, Lil Bub …

Obviously, I don’t hate cats. My Instagram feed has as many cats as humans. And yes, I follow the Celebrity Cats and their owners like others would follow the cast of Supernatural. The other day, Monty Boy had a seizure and I was combing his Instagram feed for the latest word on his condition (latest word — it’s not anything horrible).

But then the Celebrity Cats started selling things.

It began with fan merchandise (yes, Celebrity Cats have fans) like t-shirts**** and coffee mugs, and that was cool, because it was fun to be a follower of a quirky cat.*****

But then the Celebrity Cats started doing product placement and brand testimonials for cat-related items like automatic litterboxes and high-end cat food and something that looks like a gerbil wheel … and something has soured in my relationship with Celebrity Cats.

Why have I soured to these cats’ newfound success? Is it that I think they’re being exploited? I feel this way, although it’s not rational — the humans sign contracts that the cat hasn’t even seen (or likely cares about). Why was I not opposed to the t-shirts and the coffee mugs and …? Because those reached out to other cat lovers and provided a sense of affinity.

What changes when selling third-party products enters the equation? First of all, cat lovers are a quirky lot, and we feel we have personal relationships with our small, furry divas.****** When they start becoming commercial actors, or worse, celebrity endorsers, the illusion fades and we realize that the owners, not the cats, are running the show. The curtain is gone, and what lies behind it is not a cute, quirky cat but a human with a degree in marketing.

* You may notice that this list leaves no room for sexy outfits. Deal with it.

** “You get an autograph, you get an autograph, EVERYBODY gets an autograph!” Sorry, international readers, you probably don’t get this. Comment if you want an explanation.

*** Not closer as in “Open the door, love, and quit calling the cops”, but closer as in “I’m in the in-group, I’m cool, I wear the same jeans as someone who launched a career by looking good in these jeans. Maybe I’m next.”

**** I only have three Bub t-shirts, and only because I had to replace one that had gotten too big and it was on sale, so … My husband reminded me of the sweatshirt. oops.

***** I have stuffed toy Bubs, Grumpy Cats, and a Simon’s Cat.

******As I speak, Girlie-Girl is sitting on the leg of the couch and the computer stand, purring.