Connecticut Kitten Rescue Needs Your Help
Robin Olson, of the blog
Covered in Cat Hair, has cats of her own and fosters many through her organization,
Kitten Associates, Inc. As we all know, rescues often come with medical issues, and vet costs can add up fast.
Robin has her hands beyond full with one of her personal cats, Bob Dole, as well as the latest emergency, an absolutely beyond adorable foster kitten named Cara Melle. Bob Dole was Robin's late mother's cat, and he's currently being treated for lymphoma. Cara Melle is having severe intestinal issues requiring an ultrasound at the very least, surgery at the worst. There are other cats with maladies, but these two are by far the most urgent cases.
Well, I would want someone to pitch in and help me if I were in that situation. Robin has two Chip In funds going on her blog, one for Cara Melle and one for Bob Dole. There is also a general fund on the KA website. If you have a few extra dollars to spare, please visit her blog or site and give what you can. We all love our kitties, we know how precious they are, and how agonizing it is when love just isn't enough.
From one cat-infested household to another, I wish you all healthy, happy furries.
***
And yes, one of these days I might actually get around to posting on a regular basis again. So far, not much going on. My insulin-resistant mare finally found a new owner, and bonus, she didn't have to move barns. With any luck, she'll be having a foal next year. All five cats are doing well. My gelding is plodding along nicely. I worked for an accounting firm for a couple of months on a temp assignment; currently seeking something else and enjoying my vacation in the meantime. There has been some knitting, mostly trying to finish the ever-present UFOs, most of which are socks.
Oh, and the Estate finally closed. Not that it's
over yet. There is still an Estate tax return matter to deal with, a small bank account to distribute and close, and I'm still buried under a pile of Inherited Stuff™ but the lawyer finally said close it or be charged additional fees, so we closed it.
Anyway, that's the update. Now, go visit
Covered in Cat Hair and sacrifice the price of one or two Starbucks for a worthy, furry cause. Peace out.
Labels: cats, estate nonsense
Happy Birthday, Ophelia!
My black kitty Ophelia is celebrating her 16th birthday today. (Here is
the link to her Catster profile.)
I don't know her actual birthdate—this is the date I assigned to her. She came to live with me when she was around 10 months old (according to the vet). At the time, I was singing in a band and finishing my undergraduate degree. We rehearsed at the drummer's house. The band was taking a break outside one evening, and this little black cat sauntered up to me, meowing her head off.
I picked her up—snuggly little thing. She instantly began purring and allowed me to turn her upside down (like a baby). My then-bf/bass player warned me that I didn't need another cat. The other two guys expressed their annoyance with her. Apparently she was always coming over to their house, hanging around, and wouldn't go away no matter what they did (they didn't like cats all that much).
Well, I liked her, and being a softie, I felt instantly protective of her (meanies, those boys). I examined her and found she had no collar... and to my horror, no claws! I squeezed and squeezed each paw hoping the claws would pop out as they do, but nothing emerged. Poor thing! I was outraged. Who would declaw a cat, then chuck her outside to fend for herself?
I set her down and we resumed rehearsal. The next couple of practices, she showed up every time to visit me. Finally, I'd had enough. I told her, "If you're lost and you need a home, be here at 4:00 PM next Sunday and you can come home with me." That was not our regular practice schedule, so I didn't expect to see her.
Sunday around 4:10 PM, I pulled into the drummer's driveway and what did I see?
That cat, sitting there, staring at the driveway, as if she'd been waiting for me to show up. I exited the car. She stood up and walked over to me, meowing. I'd brought the cat carrier just in case. We rehearsed, and I loaded her up and brought her home.
She had to live in Dad's bathroom for a week or so until she'd passed the vet tests (for contagious things) and until the Found Ads had been out for a bit. I didn't want to introduce her to Vince or Pandora if she was just going to go back to her real owners.
Two weeks passed. No calls about a lost black cat. All the tests came back clean. I released her from the bathroom quarantine, picked her up, snuggled her upside down, and told her she was safe now, and she was mine forever. She was so happy, she purred as loud as I've ever heard a cat purr.
She opened her mouth in a huge yawn, and stretched her front paws out in contentment. And that's when I saw it.
Plink. Plink plink plink plink. One by one, as she stretched, she unsheathed 18 perfect little claws.
That little stinker. She'd hidden her claws from me until there was no going back. And here, people were telling me she was a dumb cat (because she's so happy all the time, not a care in the world).
She has no idea she's 16 years old. All her teeth are gone, but her coat is sleek, and she's nicely plump. She races around like a kitten. She can't see or hear as well as she used to, but she seems oblivious to it. Unlike my other cats, who have agendas and whose brains are going non-stop, Ophelia is simply happy to be here. She's very Zen. The only agenda she has is to take up permanent residence in your lap and be petted. My guess is, she might be the rare cat who lives to be 30.
She's been a good cat these 15 years. Here's catnip toast to many, many more years together. I love you, Kittygirl.
Labels: cats
It Might Be Winter
Which explains the lack of posts. There isn't a lot happening around these parts, except for snow, snow, and did I mention snow?
So let's see...
Cats: improving/same. All urinary issues cleared up; Tyler, to my surprise, fell in love with the dog crate I bought (on clearance!) for his containment during his incontinent moments. He sat in it at will with the door wide open. Odd.
Zander is now on thyroid meds. Does not appear to be having any effect whatsoever.
Horses: fine, as far as I know. This is why we board.
Driveway: impassable (again).
Shoulder: unusable due to strained muscle from Monday's removal of Friday's snowfall in preparation for Tuesday's obliteration.
Sleep: interrupted (see "shoulder" above).
Reading: caught up on. Most recently read the entire series to date of Maggie Sefton's
Knitting Mysteries (they get better with each book); "
Madness" by Marya Hornbacher, a memoir about her life with bipolar disorder which was absolutely riveting; and am currently reading "Death By Darjeeling" by
Laura Childs (first mystery from a series set in a tea shop in South Carolina—it fascinates me that she can describe a setting with such exquisite detail that within two sentences
you are THERE).
There is knitting. It is baby-oriented. The barn manager is having twins in April, one of each. So I am knitting sweaters and crocheting bibs like mad.
TV: whatever is on. Project Runway. Hoarders. Paranormal State. DH, Grey's, Being Erica. So thankful for the movie package: on Sunday I watched "Coraline" (which, IMHO is NSFKids!!! Good grief!) followed by "Temple Grandin" (about
the autistic woman who became a leading animal behavior researcher and autism advocate). Excellent movies, both.
Well, shoulder=sore and stomach=hungry, so... see you in the spring. Stay warm
Labels: breaking news, cats, WIP
Happy Birthdays
I can't let today go by without wishing my own happies to my cat, Zander, and my mare, Shaveya, as they were BOTH born on this day in 1998 and are BOTH turning 11 years old today.
I didn't plan that. It just happened. They're both bi-colored, also, rust and white.
Just think. Eleven years ago today, in locations very distant from each other, two new lives entered this world at the same time (ish), and both were intended to come to me. Weird.
I first saw Zander when he was just two days old at my friend's house—momcat was friendly, so I was able to pick up the kittens and hold them, and he fit perfectly into my hand. Zander rolled upside down as I held him, displaying his white belly. I petted it with one finger, he was so small! He wiggled and "swam" with his front feet, enjoying it. A few weeks later, he came home. Who knew he'd grow into such a ginormous thing! Top weight, 23 pounds, though he's slimmed down to a svelte and healthy 16 pounds.
Shaveya (shuh-VEY-yuh) came to me later, after Wildflower died in 2005. So she was already six years old. Of course it was the whinnying that got to me. She saw me, and whinnied. I'm a sucker.
Coming up this month are two more coincidental birthdays—Cheerios and Jake are within a day of each other, but different years. My Mother never got over the fact that she shared a birthday with them. Sorry, Mom!
Labels: cats, horses, nothing important
Blithering
Imagine that. I pilled the cat last night without incident. I have Pill Savvy.
I don't even think Jake remembers Monday anymore. It's amazing how fast cats heal.
Did you know that passive-aggressive behaviors are one of the many coping mechanisms used by children raised by a parent with Borderline Personality Disorder? Neither did I, until I began reading
this book. I wasn't even sure what passive aggressive behavior meant until I read this description ["Surviving A Borderline Parent", p. 91]:
Another example of the passive-aggressive coping mechanism is the person who smiles and says, "No, really, I'm not angry about the situation." A couple of days later, when his wife asks him to fix her closet door, he says he will. Two weeks later, it's still not done.
1:00 PM: Sure, Mom, I'll take the dishes out.
2:00 PM: Yeah, I'll get to it.
4:00 PM: I
said I'd
do it!
6:00 PM: Geezus, Mother, can't you see I'm busy reading? (Disassociating) I'll do it in a minute.
Maybe what everyone labeled as "procrastination" was really just my being passive-aggressive as a way to try to control my life a little. Because when situations don't involve authority figures pressuring me, being on time or doing the job isn't an issue at all.
Something to consider.
Time for
Private Practice...
Labels: BPD, cats, family time, musings
Jake Update
Thank you for the well-wishes and commiseration.
I'd like to report that Jake is fine.
He released himself from Cat Recovery (the little bathroom off of the kitchen where all cats go when they're recuperating) this morning and was found wandering aimlessly down my hallway meowing loudly at 7 AM. He was summarily removed to the Main Cat Residence room after much head rubbing and placating.
He also ate all of his food last night, including the chunk containing the pill that I discovered there was no way to get down him since the surgery involved his MOUTH. (Logical, that.)
And life continues...
Labels: breaking news, cats
Fangs A Lot!
That's what my cat Jake is probably going to say when I pick him up from the vet in a couple of hours. Poor guy.
At 10 PM Wednesday night, the night before Thanksgiving (of course), I went to pet his head as he lay on the back of the couch.
He snarled, hissed viciously, and nearly took my arm off.
Jake's not the most personable cat, but even for him this was extreme. When he turned to look at me, I freaked a little. The right side of his face below his eye was puffed up and it looked like his nose wasn't on straight.
I thought OMG OMG OMG WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY CAT?!?!?
Wouldn't let me get near him. Best I could ascertain was that there was no discharge of any kind, and everything else looked "normal", so... maybe he got bonked? He looked like a prizefighter. I thought maybe his jaw was broken or something. Except, he ate just fine.
I called the vet at home, described it all. He said,
probably an infection or allergic reaction. Keep an eye on him overnight, if it's worse by 8 AM, come on in.
At 8 AM Turkey Day, I called to let him know the cat looked better, the swelling had gone down, and he was allowing me to touch him now. We determined he could hold off a bit before coming in.
So we went today. I took Zander along too, because he's been losing weight. My vet will give a kind of 2-fer deal. Bring in one cat for the $35 visit fee, and the second one gets a physical for $20.
My formerly corpulent Zander, who topped out at 23 pounds, is down to 16 pounds. The funny thing is, he's now at a healthy weight. (He's a behemoth.) He got a clean bill of health, and as long as he maintains this weight, he's fine. He's just not an obese pig anymore. So, Zander got to ride home.
Jake, on the other hand, is healthy except for the issue. His right upper fang has abscessed. Not fun. He's having it removed, under sedation, and I'll be picking him up at 5:30. The vet said this is one of those things that'll happen as they age (he is 8, after all; Zander is 10; the "kittens" of blue are 4; and Ophelia, my eldest is 14!) and brushing isn't going to do that much to change things. He'll get along fine without the fang. (Ophelia doesn't have any of hers anymore and she's fine.) And I'm thankful that it's just a dental mishap that is easily and for the most part inexpensively handled. But I'll miss the fang. Poor guy.
Happy Fangsgiving...
Labels: cats, injuries
Another Cat In Need
This must be the week for Cats In Need.
I'm a longtime reader of non-knitting blogger
Anne... Straight From the Hip. Anne posted the tragic tale of a cat she rescued from a neighbor who is very ill and unable to properly care for the Maine Coon cat she had adopted from the Humane Society, let alone herself.
Because of the neighbor's mental state and living conditions—which you'll have to read about at
Anne's blog rather than my meager attempt to describe it—the cat has become seriously ill and Anne has taken on the challenge of saving him as well as helping the neighbor.
The vet bills, as you can imagine, are rising.
Though I am between jobs myself, I'm pledging to help Anne save this beautiful feline friend. If you have the heart, please do what you can. Every little bit helps.
Labels: breaking news, cats
Momcat and Kitten Need Home(s)
Hey all, especially anyone in the NW Ohio area...
My friend D called today. She's found a stray Momcat and her kitten hanging around outside work. Both are very friendly, litter-trained, and pretty. Mom is longhaired, grey with a bit of orange. Not sure what color Kitten is. D thinks they were dropped off.
They need homes.
D says that the shelters in our area are full, and have 6-8 month waiting lists. Like me, she has several beasties of her own already and plenty of mouths to feed. (Unlike me, she doesn't have the 5-cat-per-household limit—if I have more than that inside the city limits, I'd have to register as a Cattery and pay money!)
Please, local peeps, put out the word. Let's find these two kitties a new home. I'll see if I can get some photos to post. If you're interested, email me at jrberry63 AT woh DOT rr DOT com (it's working again) and send your contact info and I'll hook you up with D.
THANK YOU IN ADVANCE! New home for kitties is on its way, I can feel it...
Labels: breaking news, cats
Hogan's Hero
Hey, everyone, please go visit
Stick and give her a little love and comfort. Her kittygirl Hogan passed away last weekend and she's taking the loss a bit hard.
R.I.P. Hogan (1992-2008)
In other news, there has been progress on the house fire front, some good news, and some nice developments that I'll share once it all cements in.
More later. I have a herd of cats that need some serious squooshin' on.
Labels: breaking news, cats, friends
Bless You, My Kitten! (Funny)
Oh, the times I wish I had a video camera going.
You know how cats will make that chirruping sound, "prrrrrpp"?
So I'm sitting on the couch watching TV. Tyler is occupying my midsection, having just completed a batch of biscuits. He's purring. He's happy. Life is good.
His nose itches.
He sneezes.
In mid-purr.
So it comes out something like "skn-
PRRRPP!"
My sides still hurt.
Labels: cats
I Prefer My Faith Stirred, Not Shaken
Alas, we had an ice storm tonight, foiling my plans to attend InsanKnitty. Just going out to get milk was life-threatening. If I hadn't been down to the last tablespoon, I'd have just stayed in.
Now for a more serious note.
Usually, I'm upbeat, positive, a veritable fountain of wisdom and esoteric existentialism. Nothing seems to get me down, right?
Usually, that's the case.
Despite my latest epiphanies (which I haven't gone into here) about the nature of fear, how I realized I have nothing to fear because fear is just a signal to ask the Higher Consciousness for help, about how nobody can think my thoughts for me/only I can think my thoughts therefore what others say to me or about me should roll off because they aren't necessarily truths therefore they cannot control me...
Despite all of this, I'm in a spot.
It's a spot that is severely testing my ability to stay focused on the preferred outcome and stay positive. It all has to do with the estate, which has gone on far too long IMHO for something that is really relatively simple to settle.
It's very clear cut. There are two houses and a chunk of cash and two people to split it between. Mother gave me the option to keep one house as my residence because I'd lived there for most of my life and because I moved back home to care for them. The other house, which is being sold, appraised higher, so the deal is, when it is sold, the other party gets cash from the proceeds equivalent to the appraisal value of the house I've chosen to keep and we split the additional leftover and split the other cash.
Fair enough, right? The lawyer outlined the distribution in a very clear cut manner shortly after Mother died, and we were both fine with it, although this was
before the houses were appraised; we both thought the house I'm living in would appraise higher. (Surprise. Apparently a house on nine acres is worth more than a house on a half acre no matter what condition it's in.)
It was just a matter of waiting through the Probate process before it settled. And it was
almost over with last summer.
But then, a complication arose.
*sigh*
There is no way to discuss this without actually going into it, which I want to avoid. But it involves people who feel like they were less "loved" in life than others, petty jealousies, envy, greed, desperation caused by life choices that may not have been the best for them, and control issues. Somebody decided they were being, uh, less compensated than they felt they were "entitled" to be, and complained to the lawyer—
who took their side.
Note: the complainee was NOT me. I have always felt that the equal half division was more than fair to both of us. After all, it's a GIFT from our parents—not an entitlement.
This placed me in a rather defensive position last summer and I've been trying to take the path of least resistance rather than giving in and fighting fire with fire because frankly, I see a mess of negative energy being tossed around, and I want no part of it. I know that what goes out comes back multiplied. I'm doing what I can to lessen the burn marks, so to speak.
And then today I get some news regarding the distribution. More cow kaka. More upset. More twisted injustice. If I told you, you'd think that it sounded completely ridiculous. It is—except when it's affecting
you and your future personally.
It was difficult, but I chose with all my might to see this as a test, to prove that all the spiritual and emotional work I've done since discovering the LOA in May is actually sunk in. I made a conscious decision to look past the onslaught of negative emotions this news upended within me and to try to maintain the inner peace I'd finally won. I remembered something Joel Osteen said in a recent telecast, how when the enemy starts to fight you harder, it's a sure sign you're about to succeed because they're more determined than ever to stop your success.
OK, so maybe it's a sign I'm about to finally succeed, that this is almost overwith, that I can move on with MY life now, because it does seem like the closer we get to finishing it, the more some people have to fight to change how it's being meted out based on very shaky justifications. Justifications of a personal nature that have absolutely no business being brought into a discussion of clear-cut contract law and the distribution of
the wishes of the deceased.
I was successful in righting my mindset for awhile, but it took me four hours to talk myself down from the ledge (so to speak) and some deep meditation before I finally felt centered and at peace. I thought I was fine. But as it goes, night did its magic, and by midnight, I was a mess.
I'm OK for now. Sobbing into 16 pounds of blue purring fur seems to help some.
It's just that nothing seems to be budging for me lately. There is plenty in the works that when it finally gives, relief will come; but it just seems stuck. I realize this is the in-between time, the space of uncertainty between setting intentions and seeing them manifest.
But I'm all alone in this. Oh, I know that God, the Universe, the Higher Consciousness, the FSM or whatever you choose to call that great Divine Life Force is on my side.
On human terms, however, there is just me; and then there is the other party and the other party is bigger in support systems than I am, and the lawyer seems to want to side with them ever since last summer (don't get me started on the ethics of this kind of behavior in a non-criminal contract law case where our Mother paid him to act as mediator—not Attorney for... uh... which one of us is the defendant in a Beneficiary/Will thing? Oh, that's right, NEITHER of us.)
So if you have a heart... please do me a favor.
Pray. Pray for me. Pray for a fast and favorable outcome. Pray for this nightmare to end. Pray for clear heads, reason and rationality to prevail. Pray for things to budge. See me posting an entry screaming with joy that Grandma's house finally sold, the estate finally closed and it all worked out, it went back to the way he said it should go originally (or better). See me writing about how relieved I am that my old house finally found a new owner. (Yes, there are three houses in my life; funny how I can be so rich in property and be increasingly worried about my bill-paying ability.) See me boring you to tears with more hippie dippie positive thinking BS when I finally manifest my preferred outcome.
Just pray, and send some good, helpful vibes my way. The cats and I could sure use the extra energy. While you're at it, send up a little for Tyler, too—he seems to be having a recurrence or it never cleared up to begin with.
You're all in my prayers. Be blessed.
Labels: breaking news, cats, estate nonsense, whines and rants
F.U.S.
Feline Urinary Syndrome.
That's what Tyler has. The prescription was for Very Expensive Food, which is exorbitant when one has five feline mouths to stuff.
But
Stick to the rescue.
She recommended I try a product that worked for her bunch and got them off of the VEF. While I didn't get the exact brand, I did find a brand at my LPS that contains the exact concentration of ingredients, and, uh, the label art is stunningly similar—leading me to believe that the same manufacturer produces it, just distributes under a couple different labels. You do know that pies are distributed the same way, right? The apple pie put out by
Mrs. X's Fancy Pie Co. is the same pie as packaged by
Grandma Y's Homelovin' Pies; one company makes them, and the individual pie companies just add a different design on the crust and fancy boxes.
Anyway. I chopped up a tablet and Tyler enjoyed 1/4th of it. Blue snatched one of the quarters and gobbled it down, and little orange piggie Jake managed to swipe two. Oink. Neither Zander nor Ophelia was the least interested.
I'll try crushing and working into Tyler's wet food treat tonight to see if that helps. He'll probably need to be isolated to prevent the gobblers from attacking, but if it means he gets supplemented, it's worth it.
Anyone every try No Scratch spray? Does it work? Any home remedies besides double-sided tape (ick) or tin foil (sort of works)?
Labels: cats
R.I.P. MommaMonkey
My God in Heaven. I just found out through Ravelry News and
Lime & Violet that
Gigi Silva, aka
MommaMonkey of
monkey-toes.net and the creator of
Socktopia, has died from complications of a lengthy illness.
This is not just a shock because she was a fellow knitblogger (and confirmed sockaholic). It's a shock because last year I got to know her a bit through emails when I signed on to be a sock tester. She sent two sock patterns and yarn to me.
One bore the super secret codename
Flames. It became
Fawkes. My contribution is the orange one.
The other bore the super secret codename
Sleep Socks.
Their destiny and true name will remain unknown. They wound up in hibernation, awaiting pattern corrections that, sadly, will never arrive. As I posted in the
tribute thread on the Ravelry Forum (apologies to non-Ravelers for the link),
Every time I look at this yarn, I will think of the talented woman I came to know through blogs, emails and socks but not in person. Your family is in my prayers and you are in God’s Hands. Rest in peace, MommaMonkey. I hope there is knitting in Heaven.
Any other tidbits I had to blog about are insignificant at the moment. But I'll tell you that Tyler is doing well, eating fine, and evacuating as expected. He's rejoined the herd. I've also been turned on to a supplement readily available at my LPS (Local Pet Store) for Feline Urinary Syndrome (FUS) that does the same thing as the Very Expensive Food and it's like a treat. I'll let you know how it works.
Labels: breaking news, cats, ravelry, sockaholism
Tyler Update
Thank you for the suggestion in the comments re: Soft Paws. I'll look into it. If it will save my woodwork and the herd can stand it, it may be worth the effort of slipping them onto 90 individual claws... *shock* no, wait—they only destroy with the fronts, right? 50 claws, then.
You can see why I might hesitate on this, though it is a very worthwhile suggestion. The idea of wrangling five cats, let alone gluing on 50 claw covers is daunting! Especially since the note says, "
If you can trim your cat's claws, you can apply Soft Paws." Ummm... I can... WHEN they allow it. (I see they didn't add the disclaimer "
without losing an arm".)
The fun thing is, I could actually
color-code my cats.
Yeah, I know. Bring on the limiting beliefs already. ;-)
Tyler is doing better. He successfully peed several times on the utility room floor. I didn't reprimand him (because that would be wrong, he's only using the floor because he associates the box with discomfort). Instead, I praised him for
peeing and cleaned it up. When I observed him assuming the squat position on the freshly-cleaned tile, I picked him up and stuck him in the box mid-squat and petted and praised him while he stayed there. I told him that he did a good job peeing on the tile, and that if he can pee on the tile, he can also pee in the box, that it's not the box causing discomfort, it's inside him, so let's pee in the box. He peed a little in the box. Much praise.
Poor little guy.
Well, I'd best get to the store for my milk and lottery tickets. My usual routine is to do this on Tuesdays and Fridays, but with the weather reporting an impending storm and up to 8 inches of white annoyance, I'd best be proactive and do it while the roads are still passable. (It hasn't started yet, but procrastination is not my friend, is it?)
Labels: cats
Hothouse Cats
Good news, Tyler is fine.
I may have forgotten to mention there was a day or so I wasn't sure if he was. Tyler is my "delicate" cat. He is prone to developing
crystals in his urine, which can lead to blockages and that is not good. Because of him, a couple of years ago, the vet recommended the entire herd be upgraded to Science Diet C/D, aka Very Expensive Crunchies (VEC). I'll do anything for my animals.
Until things started getting a little, shall we say, tight around here? "
Very temporary cash flow issue" (VTCFI) is the term I've heard the LoAer's use as a way to be truthful about the situation at the present moment without attracting more of it to them. Well, with the estate closing delay and my procrastination regarding preparing my house to sell, I've found myself in a VTCFI and opted to downgrade them slightly.
Oops.
Sorry, Tyler, my bad.
Unfortunately, there are no medications I can give him. It's not a disease, it's a syndrome. No one is sure of the exact cause, but the treatment is purely dietary. This is something I understand completely, having a horse that is much the same (sugar in sweet feed and grass leads to lameness). After a day or so of observing a very frustrated cat visit all the litter boxes, I knew I could avoid the vet no longer.
Thankfully, he isn't blocked yet (but was trying to be), his bladder was empty and probably just irritated from the crystals. But he is spending the next week isolated from the other cats only to prevent him from eating the "Junk Food" Crunchies (they're not
that bad!) and so I can monitor the box. I'm happy to report that he peed all over the utility room floor as a protest against being isolated. He is a very social cat. (He did finally rediscover his love affair with the catbox. And he has his own private bag of VEC.)
He's temporarily housed in the utility room (between the family room where he usually lives and the kitchen). The bathroom wasn't working out for him. That's where every cat in recovery has stayed since the dawn of time. But the door no longer latches. This is something I found out at 5:00 AM when I was awakened by what sounded like loose cat exploring the house.
It was indeed loose cat exploring the house. After trying unsuccessfully to rig it so the door would stay shut (while he stayed in the utility room), I realized he had made himself a nest among the comforters to be laundered—and that he was finally quiet and content. So I relocated him out there. (Why fight it?)
You may be asking, why are the cats sequestered from the rest of the house? Two words:
woodwork and
claws (OK, three words:
fur. Wait: four—
antiques. No, five:
irreplaceable breakable things). This is not MY house yet. It's my Mother's. It was built in 1960. The woodwork is original. The couch in the living room is leather. At my house, I was less conscientious about it—not much woodwork, the doorjambs were "fake" woodgrain, and they had lots of carpet to claw (along with the side of my non-leather couch). My bad again. I didn't train them well. But I may need to sell this house someday, and the less repair the better. They've already taken one of the doorjambs in the family room down to the paneling. Even with a 6-foot cat tree to demolish.
Don't worry, he's not imprisoned all alone all day. When I go out for TV and cat time, I let him join us. I have to take up all the crunchies, though, and monitor the litter boxes. Tonight he was funny. He must've been completely exhausted from the vet visit and the stress of the new digs because he passed out on the sofa, sleeping like he'd hiked ten miles uphill both ways. Poor guy.
The vet says once he's straightened out (in about a week meaning he's using the box and producing normally), I can tinker with his diet and try a couple of the better brand pet store foods that others have found to work pretty well. Some cats can deal, others can't. The vet said Tyler might be one of the ones who needs the best of the foods. *sigh*
Oh, and that'll be Somewhat More Affordable Brand LITE. He got weighed.
18.03 lbs.
The vet said he needs to lose four pounds.
No wonder I'm having a VTCFI. I'm trying to feed 80 pounds of cat (that's all five).
Off to bed now...
Labels: cats
FO, FO, ORG, THUMPERS
Are you sitting down?
Knitting content!
Not only that, but actual living, breathing, FOs!!!
And, please, say a few prayers for my Pentax camera's batteries. They have taken ill and despite being defibrillated several times, they are lying near death in the charger but it's not looking good (hence I did not get to photograph the MOST IMPORTANT THING!!! but I will get batteries when I'm out tomorrow and rectify that right away... note to self, photograph most important things first, just in case).
First up—
Waving Lace Socks (from
Favorite Socks) in Lorna's Laces
Gold Hill colorway. They grew a bit in the soaking. I hope they still fit. I have small feet and nary the courage to try them on just yet. For now, I'm admiring their beauty.
Next, we have
Embossed Leaves (also from
Favorite Socks—I LOVE THIS BOOK!) in Araucania Ranco (yarn details on
Ravelry, apologies to those who aren't yet Ravelers). This yarn... amazing. Gorgeous. Easy to knit with. I don't know what it does when washed yet—hopefully they stay true to size. If not, I have another cake of a brown colorway. I consider them done. The toe needs kitchnered (not the method on the pattern but my preference) and the ends woven, but they are done enough to show here. More pix on my Flicker
Socks page.
This is the one submission I managed to get for the Biggest Bunny Thumpers Contest over at KitKatKnits' blog. This is Tyler's foot. Zander (not pictured) is the Biggest of All Possible Cats around here but the danged battery on my camera keeps throwing a hissy fit and pretending like it's depleted of all energy when it was clearly just reloaded with fresh powerful batteries five minutes earlier. Zander's BT is a good 5.25 inches long.
Tyler, who is the second largest of my herd of five, measured in at a measly 4.5 inches or so. Hard to tell, he moved and he is very grumbly about having his feet touched.
As evident by the look he's giving me in this photo. And that's not even his evil look. You should see the Kill The Vacuum Cleaner Look.
Translation: either "I CAN HAZ UR FACE FOR MAH DINNER?" or "U TOUCHA DA FOOT I EATA UR FACE". Take your pick.
And finally, there has been earnest progress on the organization front. You'll find (if interested) a new set of updated photos on my Flickr account (just click the pix, it'll take you there).
Labels: 30-Day Org, boring household crap, cats, FOs, sockaholism
Need a Cub?
Rocker Boy finally figured out how to send pix from his cell phone. This is from the day he left, when we happened onto the exotic animal day at the Mall and I got to hold a baby lion cub.
Is that the CUTEST darned thing you've ever seen? SO SOFT!!! Can you tell I was completely in love with the fuzzster and wanted to bring her home? Never mind that within a year she'd be big enough to eat me.
It totally brought out the squee in me.
Odd thing I have
Noticed. All of my post titles this month begin with
N. I've decided to challenge myself to carry on with this trend through
November. Why
Not, eh?
Ooooh. I think the house across the street finally sold. Yay. Maybe that's a good sign for my old Toledo house (which, according to tax assessments, is worth $6k MORE than I was going to price it at).
Labels: cats, ron, silliness
Excitement Abounds
The cats—five of them—require supervision to prevent wayward claws from deciding the woodwork makes a fine scratching post, or to dissuade opening the cabinet doors to walk amongst the cooking utensils, or to carefully taste any object not nailed down. Hence they are rarely let loose in the main house.
Today, I allowed them the privilege. After cleaning the catboxes, I needed a shower, so I asked Rocker Boy (who was shackled to his computer) if he'd mind keeping an eye on them for me. He agreed. I showered, then got on the computer briefly to see if my mail had decided to work. I heard him rise, walk to the deck door, open the slider, and close it behind him as he exited for a smoke.
I quickly abandoned my computer a moment later after hitting Send. I knew... can't trust those cats.
Guess what I found?
My Embossed Lace sock and yarn cake splattered all over the floor, one needle hanging on precariously to its stitches, one needle liberated from its moorings nowhere to be found. I shouted. Cats scattered. Rocker Boy re-entered. Saw the carnage. Exclaimed in disbelief, "but... I was only gone for a minute!"
I cast a wise eye on him, raised one eyebrow, and said pointedly, "And you tried to tell me that cats are different from kids?" (They're not.)
The liberated needle was located moments later out in the cat room where it had been abandoned like a ladies' purse after a mugging.
My Addi Lace #1 will never be the same. The culprit was my blue cat, who has a taste for the plastic (he chews and sucks on all manner of baggie, wrapping or tube). There are teeth marks. Prominent ones. There is one particularly dicey area that I fear—no, I
know—will, eventually, under pressure of use, give way and separate the two ends forevermore.
Alas, Yarn Haven closed at 6 PM, five minutes after I found the mess. I'm limping along with my wounded Addi's, having reclaimed the stitches and reworked the short-rows my cat so thoughtfully determined needed redoing, and am past the heel gusset into the footwork.
And I think nothing exciting ever happens around here.
Labels: breaking news, cats, WIP
Minor Update
The Big SecretSo far, things are moving along nicely. There are good reports arriving from points West. The timetable appears to have moved up by a couple of weeks—fingers crossed. It will be great.
KnittingI know I haven't posted many photos here lately (of yarn, anyway). As a reward, I'll post some of my latest Stash Acquisitions, just for sticking it out this long. ;-) I have completed all 16 of my TKGA Masters Level One swatches. They just need washed, blocked, woven in ends, labelled, and packaged up. I'm in the middle of the hat. Yes, it's a low-key knit. But that's OK, as my mind is still a ball of mush and thinking (ie doing cables) is difficult for me right now. If I keep at it, I'll make my goal and have this out the door before the end of the month.
I'm also still working on the Waving Lace Socks and have added the Spiralling Sock from one of my KALs to the list. Too many socks. Not enough time!
MusicHurrah for me, I've written a song. I'm 95% certain the latest edition of the lyrics is the final cut; but that could change depending on what my muse decides. (My muse being that great creative force in the sky.) Why this is monumental is because I haven't written a song since my parents became ill, let alone pick up my guitar. But I got all the recording gear set up, and Ron had emailed me some music needing lyrics, and one of them really struck a chord with me (no pun intended). I work in spurts. I listen, I hum along, I see where the melody wants to go. Then I mumble any snippets of words that come to mind. When it stops freeflowing, I stop, put it away, and let it marinate. I've been humming this song to myself for a week straight, watching it write itself in my head. I'm pretty satisfied with the latest version of the lyrics, but I'm not sure I've quite said what I want to say exactly how I want to say it.
Still, it feels good to be back in the swing of it again.
HorsesDo I have horses? I seem to have forgotten again.
CatsAll fine and furry as usual.
Estate BSStill BS. But we're close to finishing up. Good, because I'm so tired of it. I want it wrapped up and the spoils dispersed equitably and ASAP. I've been living under the black cloud of this stuff for a full year now, following almost a full year of watching the parents go downhill. It's time for a positive change. It's time to get out from under the cloud, back into the sunshine, and live again. My horoscope swears that as of or around September 28th, I'll enter a fantastic period that'll last through May 9th where basically everything I ever wanted will arrive. Buh-RING IT AW-won!
LotteryHopefully I have the winning ticket tonight. We'll see.
That's all, folks.
Oh, yeah, pictures.
Dalegarn Tiur for the Winter Garden Socks (from Knit Socks!)
Sleeping Dragon Sock Yarn in Roses & Chocolate
Twisted Fiber Arts Arial Sock Yarn in Regiment
Hopefully these are visible and clickable. First time using Flickr to post (usually I use PhotoBucket). This is just a taste of what I snagged at Threadbear two weekends ago. Yuuuuumy. Sock yarn.
*sluuuuurrrrp*
Labels: cats, estate nonsense, horses, music, stash enhancement, the big secret, TKGA Masters Level One
