The Sanctity of Marriage

When I was growing up, weddings did not occur in my family. My uncles, or aunts dated, they would move in with the person they were dating, and before I knew, I had a new aunt or uncle. One of my aunts dated a lot, therefore, I had a LOT of uncles!

I don't know if this was due to being latin or just a peculiarity in my specific family. As far as I know, only one of my relatives was legally married.

Regardless of whether the lack of belief in marriage was due to my family, I have always felt that weddings were more of a public declaration, to your family and friends, that the person beside you was "The One." That was the person you were planning on spending the rest of your life with.

But that to me is not marriage.

Marriage, to me, is more a sense of duty, obligation, love and honor. You bestow these things upon the person you love and want to grow old with. It is a personal vow between you, the person you love, and the universe, that you will be loyal to that person. That you will devote your life, moving forward, to living as one. That come hell or high water, no matter what, you will not abandon one another. That you would die for them.

Of course, everyone's definition will vary, but that's mine. And I see myself as married. After 13 years with Niko, we're about as married as married is going to get; he's seen me at my worst, at my best, and he still has not left me. Nor I, him. I don't need a piece of paper to tell me how married I am.

But I need it for protection.

As it stands now, if my partner should die before me, I'm screwed if his family wants to come in and be nasty. Nothing is in my name except some joint accounts.

We can have will drawn up, Power of Attorney, etc. But I can't get married.

After 13 years, no matter what we've been through, no matter how much I love my partner, if one of us should die, the other party is screwed. And it's not just us. We know plenty of other gay couples in the same predicament. In fact, some of the couples have been together even longer than we have. We understand the tradition of marriage, the supposed sanctity.

And yet we cannot marry.

Mind you, I don't believe in marriage per se, but I'd like to know that I could marry, if I had the option.

When Prop 8 in California was defeated the first time, I was pissed. Not for us, but for all the gay and lesbian couples out there who want the traditional wedding.

We protested in Fort Lauderdale and I wrote to the ACLU. I signed petitions and wrote to our politicians, thanks to the organized directives of the ACLU.

And then Prop 8 came up once more and, once more, it was defeated.

That's inexcusable. First, because as gay people we are being treated like second class citizens. And I tired. I will no longer settle. And no, I don't want a "separate but equal" law, either! This is not the 60s and I will drink from the same water fountain as others; straight, gay, black, white, or where ever  and whomever you identify with. One planet, one country, one government, one law to protect us all.

How dare the government tell me, "I can take your tax money but I will not give you Civil Rights." This is basically what California has just said. People, wake up!

Personally, although I am outraged that California once again refused to pass Prop 8, I am also baffled. A state which has been at the forefront of the "Going Green" campaign. A state where almost anything went. A state from where almost anything new and weird originated.

A state that is now, apparently, dangerously close to being bankrupt.

Denying people the right to marry is, in my opinion, morally wrong. For California it is also economically unsound.

Just imagine the cost of your average wedding. Now imagine how many gay couples there are in California, let alone the world. Quiet, normal, every day, run of the mill gay couples, coming and going, working, living, spending money just like everyone else.

Now imagine how much money gay marriages would dump into their economy, let alone our nations', if we were allowed to marry in all states. We're talking marriage license, banquet halls, ball rooms, limos, tailors, flower shops, caterers, bartenders, D.J.s, hotels, the airlines.

I mean, for crying outloud, if Disney has recognized the power of the gay dollar, I would think that for that alone, California would have passed Prop 8.

In the end, we all get what we deserve and, sometimes, we get what we create. California, if that is the bed you made, I hope you enjoy sleeping in it. For all other states who have passed laws to legally recognize gay marriages, I applaud you!

For all others homophobes who are against gay marriage, please click on the link below so you can see what the future holds for you. It is the youth of the world. And one day they will rebel.

For supporters of gay marriage, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Please forward if you feel as I do.

Wild Thing: May 1996 - May 15, 2009

There are many sad things in the world. However, none -- in my opinion -- can compare with the loss of a loved one. Be it a break-up, the death of a friend or family member. Or almost as bad, the passing of a pet.

13 years ago, when I first met my partner, I didn't know that things would last this long. However, I won't bore you with how I feel about him; you can click here and read it for yourself later if you like. As with many couples, both gay and straight, there were and are still, things that drive me crazy, as there are with him; we laugh about these things.

However, the one thing I thought might have been a deal breaker were his kittens: Max and Wild Thing. Not because I don't like cats. But at the time I had a very old cat I knew I would soon have to put down and a few years prior, had put my first one down.

Except that Max and Wild Thing were SOOOOOOOOOO cute! And so tiny! With their little hisses and frantic fits of energy, they were little balls of fur with legs.

Niko had gotten them from a woman he knew in his apartment building in Victoria Park. They apparently kept falling into the pool and she was worried that one day she might not be there to fish them out. So into Niko's apartment they came.

I couldn't say no to them either; especially when it came time for all 4 of us to move-in together. There were no dogs in our lives then.

Plus I have this rule in life. I don't have many but the ones I do I feel pretty passionate about. When an animal comes into your home, you have made a silent oath with the universe to take care of that creature until one of you passes on.

And that's just the way it is. Til death do you part. Yeah, kinda like marriage. I know. But it kind is when you think about it. You might not be exchanging vows or anything like that; but the fierce determination of seeing a relationship through to the end, through thick and thin, demands a certain loyalty and respect of the other that is almost is like marriage.

As time went by, we always joked that their names, from Maurice Sendak's "Where The Wild Things Are," were ironic. Max's personality sort of grew into his name. Wild Thing's did not.

Wild Thing had a temper. He was Alpha which meant he always fought to be first for his food, for water, even to be petted. He loved rubbing himself all over our legs at feeding times (something that always rattled my nerves for some reason). He insisted on supervising you to make sure you gave him enough food and would Meow-Bitch you if you didn't. Plus, he would toss you really dirty looks at times.

He and Emma, our black pug, who is the Alpha of the dogs, never met eye to eye. In fact, I hate to admit, when Wild Thing was particularly ornery this one time, we said, "Get the Kitty!" And for whatever reason, it was Wild Thing Emma went for. She never hurt him; she just chased him around. Sometimes he'd be hiding somewhere and she'd walked by. You'd see a paw pop out of nowhere and bop her, then disappear. We always got a good laugh to see the look on HER face!

At other times, they'd simply have staring matches. The winner usually stood their ground and got to watch the loser slink away.

There were other moments that drove me crazy as well, like the time he looked down at Emma, looked at his food dish, then pushed it over the edge. She stepped out just in time but it shattered to bits on the tile floor. Then there were the times I just KNOW he muttered things under his breath at me when I said no to more food.

And I feel guilty for the very rare times he came to me and I just wasn't in the mood to play with him. Or didn't want to.

Wild Thing was all these things but he was many more, too. He could, at times, be very sweet -- to the point of almost being innocent and kitten-like, even late in life. He was extremely shy; in fact, some people doubted we truly had a second cat at all.

He was a Champion for his brother, though in all fairness, Max was rarely, if ever, chased after by any of the dogs. But they, at least, stuck together; most times. It was heart-warming to see Max & Wild Thing sleeping together. It was also saddening at times that he wouldn't join us in bed, or on the sofa, while watching a movie and all 3 pugs snoring lazily between us, along with Max; while Wild Thing looked on with something like loathing in his eyes. We always invited him, but he just never took to Emma; and held it.

Then one day Niko noticed was wrong. He took Wild Thing to the vet, where they discovered Wild Thing was diabetic and would need insulin shots for the rest of his life. I said, okay, how do we do this? And we did it.

For a while he seemed fine. Wild Thing ate a lot more, drank a lot more, peed a lot more. The litter was changed far more frequently than it ever was or it would stink to high heaven. But otherwise, Wild Thing seemed fine.

Then he started gaining weight. A lot of weight. But he was still fine. Or so we thought.

He seemed to be a lot less social than ever; and he wasn't all that much of a butterfly to begin with. He had more trouble jumping onto things. His eyes seemed to grow cloudy; something I noticed before I left for NYC a few weeks ago.

Subtle things. And still I thought nothing of it.

Then, last Thursday night, when I called Niko before going to bed, I asked about the babies and Wild Thing came up. Apparently he had diarrhea and it had been everywhere as he, apparently, tried to make it to the litter box. He wasn't eating anymore and when the sound of the kibble hitting the bowl didn't pull him out of where ever Wild Thing was hiding, Niko realized something was definitely wrong.

So Niko took Wild Thing to work with him last Friday, May 15. The vets checked him out and . . . well, to make a long story short 'cause I'm having a hard time holding back my tears, he was put down at the Vet's recommendation.

At first, I was upset more for Niko, because I wasn't here for him and he had to go through this alone. Wild Thing was definitely Niko's baby. He had bonded with Niko more than he ever did with me. I guess, like Emma, I just didn't get him and he merely tolerated me because I was part of the package.

But now, the first full day after I've come home, we are down one family member. Although he rarely joined us for group or family stuff (for us gays our pets are our babies since we are not allowed to adopt), there is definitely a very huge void. Strangely, there is also a silence. A very loud silence that actually hurts. The dynamics have all changed.

I guess it will take a little time.

I held Niko last night when I came home. He cried in my arms. And I wanted him to so badly. I need him to. I needed to feel his sorrow. And I will always want him in my arms whether he's crying or not.

But this morning was really difficult.

I got up out of bed and went to feed all the critters. I went to reach for his bowl and it wasn't there. I filled one. Only one cat jumped up on the trunk we have in the kitchen that stores towels and keeps them safe from the dogs eating their food as well. And I broke down for a cat I lived with, fed, changed his litter, for 13 years, yet never really took the time to get to know.

I find myself wishing I had spent more time with Wild Thing, getting to know him better; appreciate him. Listening to his meows (Max rarely meows) and laughing when he got stoned off cat nip. Even petting him and learning how to get over that rubbing thing.

It makes me feel sad for all the Wild Things of the world that people don't get to know because the cats are too shy, or too sensitive, or just too demanding or too vocal.

But one thing does console me. It happened early May, though, when something transpired mentally between us. I remember picking him up and found myself just as startled as he looked. But he let me hold him in my arms, like a baby, and pet his belly.

He was, in my opinion, striking and beautiful. I just wish I had told him more. I think I got it. In the end it's still all about love, acceptance and forgiveness; even with animals.

Wild Thing is survived by his brother, Max, and begrudgingly, sister Emma. Also Trinket and Googie and his still stunned Dads.

Good night, sweet Wild Thing. We will miss you.