Directly to the letters this week. I'll tell you why below so anyone who wants to can ignore that bit.

1. Ok. You married at 16. Not the brightest thing in the world to do, and I'm sure that you would have waited if you were given the chance at a do-over. But, you made lemonade and here you are, happy campers. Good for you.

If anyone questions you, tell them to

SHADDAP!

But they aren't questioning you, are they? No, they're expressing amazement and why shouldn't they? If they "clam up" about it, then what's your problem?

What's amazing to them and quite frankly to most people, is that you and your husband are among the very few who married at a young age and are still together. These marriages tend to fail for all kinds of reasons, not the least of which is that you are not the same person now that you were at 16. None of us are. That's not a bad thing, it just is.

You have a lot to be proud of, so be proud of it and stop looking for offense where none exists. Your kids will be out on their own and you'll be having fun with your tits and ass unaffected by the gravity that will afflict your contemporaries who will still be chasing toddlers at the age when you are starting your second career. Then you get to be smug.

2. Oh, for the love of cookies and ice cream!

Listen to yourself, man! You're thinking of proposing marriage to someone that hits you - what the hell are you thinking?

SHADDAP!

...for a minute here and consider...

People who love each other don't hit each other. Ever. There is no need or excuse for violence of any kind in a relationship, period, no debate possible.

So what are you waiting for? Hanging around to see if she'll come at you with a knife one day? Maybe a frying pan? Succeed in pushing you off the subway platform and on to the third rail? Do you WANT to have to go to the emergency room because the "love of your life" brained you with a Hibachi?

Think hard, laddie, I know this is a stretch for you.

Are you thinking for one second that you could trust this woman with your children? Really?

Domestic violence is embarrassing for women as well as men. Worse, the violence often gets worse after it's been reported. No one wants to be the one that always has to wear long sleeves and has an extensive collection of oversized sunglasses.

Dump this jerk (yes, women can be jerks, too). It's the same advice I'd give a woman in your situation. She doesn't love you. If she did, she would never hurt you. It's only going to get worse over time, and you can take that to the bank.

Get therapy, find out why you're putting up with this crap, then go find a good, kind woman who will love you with kisses instead of blows.

3. Oy, we've all done it...dated the hunk, then found out that the package is a little light between the ears. But it was fun while it lasted, right? And the sex was worth it, right?

I have no intention of judging you. Only a moron would look at each and every date they ever go on as a wedding rehearsal. The only difference between you and other women who have done the same thing is that you are honest about your reasons for breaking up with the guy.

However....what are you doing exerting energy trying to be nice this guy now?

SHADDAP!

I have to agree with Prudie on this one. He's being creepy. He's a whiner, too. Maybe he's hoping for another chance with you, but he's not taking the hint that you aren't interested, and that's where the ick factor comes into play.

Be as blunt with him as you have been with us. Say this,

"Gee, I'm guessing you think it sucks to be single at your age, but why are you talking to me about it? I dumped you, remember? You should be out meeting women you stand a chance with, not following me around like a hyena after a wildebeest!"

If he really isn't that bright, you may eventually have to tell him to piss off just like that. Just.....don't put up with his whining, ok?

4. Fucking weddings. We will never escape these goddamned wedding letters, will we?

SHADDAP!

All of you!

Traditionally, the bride would choose silver and china patterns, register with the store and her role was then over. She was to retire to her wedding planning, dress fittings and drunken pre-wedding debauches, never worrying about presents until they were opened - the day AFTER the wedding - traditionally after the wedding breakfast.

(There were other, not so mellow traditions, too. Like hanging the bloody sheet out the balcony of the couple's bedroom as "proof" not only that the young lady was a virgin, but that the husband could perform his duties. If they were both too drunk to do anything the night of the wedding, then no one paid too much attention to the band-aid on the groom's thumb.)

The guests were then expected to go to the mother of the bride to be, and ask HER where the kid was registered - it was the role of Mom to steer the guests to the right store. Mom was also required to say that these were only suggestions and that guests should not feel obligated to shop at that particular place.

The bride would open her presents with expressions of delight and gratitude, making no distinctions between a humble tea towel and the solid silver epergne. Thank you notes were sent the following morning, and the couple could then settle into married life.

Easy, see?

Sadly, this is no longer the case, and it truly sucks. Now, the brides have taken over, and many of them are still behaving like the kindergarten bullies they were when they were kids. Their mothers are in hiding, wondering what they hell they were thinking when they got pregnant with the demanding monsters that they raised.

You need not let a white-clad thug dictate what you may or may not give her as a present. You can do whatever you want. If she bitches about it, she can bitch in private, AFTER she sends you a nice note thanking you for your contribution.

____________________________

Now I have a sad announcement.

Tomorrow morning will be Louis the Big Orange Cat, Defender of the Realm, Killer of Knitted Red Mice, King of the Big Black Couch, etc, etc's Last Visit to the Vet. I've been crying and cooking all day, but the decision we've made is the correct one.

He is 17 years old. He would have turned 18 in February of next year. He's had health issues all his life - diabetes, hip surgery (we got him with a broken leg), cataracts (but not too bad), but these were all reasonably easily dealt with, and he was in good shape.

However. In the past few weeks, he has changed into a Very Old Cat. His hip hurts all the time. He cries when I pick him up. He can't get into the litter box on his own any more. We think he's having mini-strokes - he'll stare into space for up to 10 minutes at a time, then "come back" and be scared because he doesn't know where he is. He's off his food and he's just not a happy boy any more.

It was pointed out to me by a vet that he is, in human terms, over 100 years old. It's time, I know that, but it isn't easy. He's been with us for so long. He's a better friend than most people I've met in that time.

He has never hurt anyone, never raised a paw to any creature, and only ever growled when he was afraid. I don't think he knows how to hiss. He is Innocent. I know that we're doing the right thing. I know that we owe this poor old creature the dignity of a death without pain. That never makes it any easier, though, does it?

I've never logged in before; been a lurker for a long time tho. Messy, your answers are on target, as always. However, I was compelled to respond to your message about Louis.

I had to put my beloved Katrina to sleep around Christmas this year. She was 22. It was a very difficult decision for me. She had been with me since my oldest was seven; she went with me through extremely difficult teenage years with my children (we all survived), a very hard divorce after 25 years, and all the joys and tribulations in between. She became elderly, no longer able to display her incredible ability to catch birds and mice (which she ate with gusto -- much preferring them to 'cat food.' I have had a lot of cats, but none with me throughout so much of my life as Katrina. What haunted me, and haunts me still, is that I took her to that last vet ride because she'd lost the use of her hind legs, could no longer get herself to the food bowl nor the cat box, and couldn't move herself from her throne (the couch), but her eyes didn't say to me "please help me to the next place," her eyes said "hey, fix this!" I couldn't fix it. That broke my heart.

So my heart goes out to you.

Messy darling. I am very sorry about Louis. Please accept my heartfelt sorrow over his eventual fate. Just because you know it is the compassionate thing to do, that never makes it any less sad. Someday soon I will know how you feel today.

((((Messy/pbev)))))

Btw, nice advice. As usual.

sorry 'bout Louis. We should have his option when the time comes.

Oh, I'm sorry about Louis!

I hope that the love that is giving you the strength to let him go will bring you some comfort and hasten the day when you can celebrate the years he was present in your life rather than mourn his absence.

I was a little surprised to see SHADDUP on Thursday, but figured that you were especially on top of stuff. And your advice is great as always.

Reading further, my heart got heavier and heavier. What sad news. Crying and cooking - with me, it would have been crying and cleaning. How did you write here at all? I admire your strength, your compassion and your decision.

Give yourself a hug from me.

I am so sorry. Take care of Louis the Big Orange Cat, Defender, Killer, King, etc, etc. My twelve-year-old gray tiger cat Louie wishes him peace and calm. Then take care of yourself for a little while. By tomorrow this time Louis will be free of this world and its pain, and passed over to that Rainbow Bridge.

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This is the second goddamned time today that a friend has told me of a pet's demise. It's time for a few feral moments. The stupid letter writers, Prudie's stupid staff, and the stupid yahoos who write in to give us their preposterous opinions about the imaginary problems and then expect everyone to agree and follow their odd little rules about life aren't worth talking about today.

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The Boy will be coming in late tonight. He's scheduled to get in at around 9:30, but it's been raining since last night, so I don't imagine he'll get in until around midnight. I'm staying up.

Lou was even worse tonight. If ever I had doubts, they're gone. I had to carry him up the stairs. He walked over to the water bowl, but he couldn't sit down because of his hip. When he sat down, he couldn't get up. I carried him to the couch. There is nothing else I can do for him, except take away the pain forever.

I cooked, because he always likes to sit on the table and watch (and cadge tastes). Normally, I couldn't give him anything, but I think we're past worrying about his blood sugar. So he got some pancetta, a piece of bison, licked out the bowl I beat the eggs in, and I let him lick off the butter from the parchment it comes in.

These all seem like simple things, but he loves them, and he was purring all day.

Tomorrow, I put my punk playlist on the I-Pod and clean all day.

I don't imagine I'll be around much for the next few days, so if anyone is inclined to yap at me, I'm not deaf, I'm ignoring you.

Say hi to your Louie from me, will ya?

Now to the important stuff:

Oh how sad! He sounds so wonderful.

I'm so sorry, messy :(

We had to make that difficult decision with my childhood cat (when he was 17 and I was 19) but he died in his sleep the night before we were going to take him in. So I guess we were sort of fortunate.

When the day comes for either of the cats I have now (and I'm in total denial about this, btw, I've basically convinced myself that they're going to live forever), I'm going to be a complete wreck. But I guess that's just the price of really caring about your pets. I have a few friends who aren't pet people, and they were shocked when I paid for an $1,100 hip surgery for one of my boys. I got a few "Wouldn't it be cheaper to just put him down and buy a new cat?"... as if I even considered that as an option. I mean, hey, what are student loans for, if not feline orthopedic surgery?

Seriously though, it sounds like he had a pretty great life, and was lucky to be part of your family.

{{{{Messy}}}} Been there, done that. Sucks. I'm always hoping it can happen at home, but that's not always possible. Take care of yourself and take time to grieve. I think it sounds like Louis was worth every moment you were able to spend with him.

Oh how did you manage to write such fantastic responses during all this??

My heart goes out to you.

{{{Messy}}}

Sure, leave it to the Dear Prudence Fray to have me in tears... Whoda thunk it???

I'm sorry Messy. All us pet-lovers have our stories, and all of us with any age on us have gone through what you are. There's no making it easier except knowing that you're doing your best by your beloved friend.

I'm really sorry. I've been through it so I understand.