This morning as Charlie was using the litter pan, I was close by. Before he could cover the evidence, I scooped it up and that’s when I noticed a small screw that he had passed. The screw is tiny, possibly a computer screw. I am hoping this was the source of the problem for him. He is on antibiotics again regardless and this morning he is perkier, eating and drinking just fine and so I let him out of confinement. He kept climbing the wire, and I was afraid he would fall on his head.

Now, he is running around the house like a hurricane. In doing research on Blastomycoses, it normally hits dogs not cats. But it is not common up here in the PNW. We need to get the mold removed regardless, but suspect we might get better prices if we wait till after the holidays.

The sun has returned and it is a welcome sight. I am not sure how long this burst of warmer weather is going to last, probably not very long. But one can hope..

My life encapsulated on the NBC Cat Blog–

Reading the captions and the blurb made me smile on a day I needed it. Charlie has had a bad relapse and we are waiting word on the blood-work. I’m not sure what is going on and though they put a rush on the lab, it is so close to the holiday. I hope they aren’t buried with work.

The numbers here this year are overwhelming. With such a warm winter last year, the mating never stopped and kitten season seemed endless. In November, I was getting calls about kittens just days old! But now the weather is decidedly cooler, so I know the cycle has finally ended. The strays have taken refuge from the cold weather and mating is the last thing on the toms’ minds right now. The urge to mate has been replaced for the need of survival.

Working with strays and ferals is always a challenge. Taking a cat who has survived outside in the world, enduring God knows what, and confining him behind four walls can sometimes cause conflict with the other resident cats. As the kittens continue to grow, and suitable homes are not available, I am now dealing with several urinators and more aggressive alpha behavior. There is an influx of couch scratching on the “sacrificial” couch upstairs (the one place the cats can scratch without reprisals. We just had our drapes cleaned for the downstairs windows and not ten minutes after they were re-hung, McKinley came and baptized them thoroughly…….sigh…….

With the windy weather and hard rain, the cats have evacuated the outdoor enclosure, settling instead for the comfort and warmth of the house. Not that I blame them, but it does increase the stress on several of the cats having to share our home with others who used to be tiny and of little consequence.

All the kittens will be neutered next month. It is my hope after the surgery that I can find decent, loving homes for these wonderful creatures. They are now all socialized, loving beings. You can clip their claws, clean their ears and keep your skin and fingers intact while doing so. With the exception of Panic and Charlie who we are keeping- I will have 6 kittens in need of loving, caring homes.

Today, a special friend called me eccentric. It surprised me, but I suppose she spoke the truth as she sees it. I would rather spend a day in the company of my cats, then attend a Christmas Party where I would just end up sitting on a sofa trying not to spill my drink in my lap, or hiding in the corner wishing I were anywhere else but there. So yes, I guess in the light of society and how people function, I would be considered odd.

But I would take odd, over cruel, apathetic or boring any day of the week. These cats need me. We understand each other and they know they are safe here. They trust me to not release them into a home until I am100% certain that all their needs will be met.

With the dining room table swallowed up by Mike’s latest project, I settled on the floor as being the perfect place to wrap the kids’ Christmas gifts. Getting into the attic where the gift wrap is kept turned out to be a challenge. Livingston, determined to explore every nook and cranny of our home, has yet to venture into the attic. Once in the attic, open access to the roof through a vent and kitty would go bye-bye. So after a few unsuccessful maneuvers, I managed to get Livingston out of the upstairs bedroom so I could slip into the attic unencumbered.

Once back downstairs, I carefully laid my selected rolls of festive wrap on the floor, tucking a pair of scissors into one of the tubes for safekeeping. Then I went to grab the presents from the bedroom.
By the time I returned, Charlie had invented a new game called- “Sliding gift wrap.” He managed to unroll two of the four rolls of paper. This created a nice tunnel for Shimmer, Trump and Baker. I could see the gift wrap take on a life of it’s own as it wiggled across the floor while the kitties played chase underneath.

Charlie, tired of unrolling gift wrap, turned his attention to the squirming mass of paper and pounced right on top, his claws tearing large, decorative holes in the gift paper. So much for the grandkids not peeking at what Santa brought! Livingston, hearing the rustling noise came running. He too dove straight for the cluster of kittens finding a nice kitten size hole, he vanished from sight.

Soon the living room floor was littered with shreds of paper, sticky bows, and Christmas labels. My scissors had mysteriously disappeared and the cardboard box of packing peanuts had been upended. Magic~ Snow in the living room and the kitties wanted to go sledding! As they slid through the whiteness, popcorn went flying into the air causing another game to erupt. Catch the peanuts and chase them around the floor.

By the time the mess had been cleared up, my floor monitors were tuckered out. I gently removed a shipping label, stuck to Baker’s back that said “Do Not Open Till Christmas,” extricated Charlie out from under one of the cardboard boxes that his friends had graciously trapped him under. When I turned on the vacuum the kittens recovered quickly and scattered in the wind.

I never knew wrapping Christmas gifts could be so entertaining.

Last night quite late the phone rang. When I picked it up and said hello, I heard a slurred female voice respond. It took me a minute to place the voice, and then I knew who it was. A girl (woman) actually, who I have never met in real life but when she was in a better place, we knew each other over the Internet.

When I first started to get to know her, she was a vibrant, funny talented woman. Married with one son, she also had cats and had built a cat enclosure for them. That is why we connected so quickly. Not a rescuer, just a person who loved cats and loved life.

I have known her now for almost 6 years, although know is figurative. I could trip over her on the street and not “know” it was her. Even though, way back when-she sent me photos of her, her husband and her little boy, I still would not recognize her.

Since our cyber-friendship began she has been on a collision course with her own personal demons. Alcohol addiction led to several confrontations with her family. She thought she was overweight and getting rid of the excess fat would help her out. She had gastric bypass surgery. But cutting away at her stomach was not the answer for what ailed her. Even though she was warned she had to stop drinking, she didn’t. She landed in the hospital several times with blood poisoning and other issues. She was on a downward spiral, and as much as I tried to save her, she couldn’t even save herself.

A few years ago, it all went black for her. Unable to deal with childhood trauma, a dysfunctional family and a spouse who was unsupportive, who drank even when she was trying to stop, and a child she couldn’t reach, she found herself split from her husband.

She has tried to kill herself several times or so she attests. My heart weeps every time she calls me to “talk.” She has drifted far into drug addiction, has been in programs but doesn’t stick it out. She is divorced…she is separated..she is reconciling…she is divorced again…What a mess.

So last night she called me begging me to save her. I can’t save her, I don’t even know where she actually lives! I have a phone number and a state, but other than that. She was so wasted she couldn’t put two words together to make a sentence. Yet, in the same breath that she was asking me for salvation, she was insisting that she was “fine.” She was “sober” she was “great.”

When I confronted her on the fact that she didn’t sound “great.” That I could tell she was messed up, she broke down crying and asked me to save her. I just told her the truth. I told her that I couldn’t save her when she couldn’t save herself. That she needs professional help and I am by far not that professional. I told her you need to get into a good program and stay there. Not be dragged into a Scientology type of place where they pour unnatural liquids into your veins and tell you it will help with your addiction. I gave her the national number for AA and a hotline number and suggested she call them. That they were qualified to lead her out of this darkness.

My mother used to say when I was growing up that I was always bringing home strays. She wasn’t talking about stray animals, she was talking about the friends I brought home. The ones who weren’t popular in school, or who were dealing with abuse or domestic violence at home. I find that even today, this stays true. The ones who are hurting gravitate towards me as if I have some sort of beacon shining out to them. It is very puzzling sometimes. I know what I have endured, how I have survived. But the reality is, you have to save yourself from whatever is haunting you. You have to face the demons and not turn away no matter how painful.

When I was in therapy so many years ago, my therapist Patt told me we would start unlocking doors of pain that had been closed off for so long. But, we wouldn’t open them all the way until I was ready to face what lay behind those doors. With this friend, she is not ready to face what lies behind her doors. She wants me to yank them open and drag her instantly out of her addiction. It simply can’t be done- because, sadly, it isn’t that simple.

We have been discussing the pros and cons of getting a Christmas tree this year.

Pros:

Oh the smell is heavenly (we would only get a live tree).

Helps to set the festive mood.

We get to go up into the attic and plow through years of memories looking for the Christmas boxes full of ornaments. I know I put them next to my old Sisterbelle doll and Tiny Tears…So where are they?

The tree would look wonderful in the corner currently occupied by two large-sized litter pans.

It would make money for the guy selling the Christmas trees (for $80.00)!

It will make money for WalMart because after we bought the tree, we would have to go into WalMart and buy ornaments, lights, garland, tree skirt and tree stand because we never did find where all those Christmas boxes were stored.

It would entertain the kitties in fine style as they discovered a real live tree in the living room! (Gee mom and dad, how did you do THAT)?

It would entertain us.

We wouldn’t need a tree-topper this year, because once the tree is put up, there would be a mad dash of auditions from Charlie, Trump, Baker, Livingston, Shimmer and Panic to be the first Reality Tree Star Topper.

My vet would be richer, because kitties would be sampling garland, knocking ornaments off the tree, test-tasting ribbons and bows. No offense Ben, but you received enough of my money this year.

The Cons-

If we go back to last year, ten minutes after the tree was up, even before it was decorated, it took a dive on my carpet and water soaked all the way through the corner. (Oliver had climbed to the top of the tree and it tipped over pretty quickly).

All that lovely tinsel is so pretty, and so deadly to kitties tummies.

$80.00 would buy an awful lot of cat food, or could be saved for next year’s vet bills.

I am out of prozac, so when the kittens decide to take the very first ornament Mike gave me on our first Christmas together (a woman fishing) and snatch it off the tree to bury it in the litter box, I might lose my charitable spirit temporarily.

Once the ornaments have been pawed off the branches, then the glass balls are fair game to Kodiak, who has a ball fetish anyway.

In a few days, the smell will go away, the needles will start to dry out and dry pine needles can easily puncture kitties stomach and cause other problems.

The tree will become a fire hazard and I won’t be able to stop the kittens from playing with all the fun pine needles falling off.

Setting up our musical lights will simply entice the kitties to play Tag among the branches looking for the source of all that lovely noise.

If we put up the Christmas train, then I would have to explain to the vet tech that I need to bring in my kitten because Santa just ran over his paw.

Once we have the tree up, we will be compelled to buy presents for each other, which we don’t have the monies for. Because who can have a Christmas tree without presents?

The smell of the new “intruder” is going to unleash a rash of the attack of the urinators as the kitties try and bring the house scent back to something they are comfortable with.

…on second thought, maybe we will just buy a door wreath.

Since dropping Baron off to his new home, Ray has emailed me six times. Each report is more encouraging. After first whining, pacing and scratching at the door where I vanished out of, Baron started settling down. Ray said it took him about 5 hours. Now, he is downstairs in the store, and he meets each customer as they come through the door. He doesn’t act aggressive toward any of them. Ray says, no matter how scruffy they might look.

Tomorrow, he goes to the vet and then to Petsmart for a bath. I felt bad that I didn’t bathe him. He was so dirty from being outside and puddle playing with Kodiak. But our bathroom is so small and he is afraid of small places- so getting him into the shower is a struggle.

This morning, we left bright and early to take Baron to his new home. Ray, a retired corporate worker immediately took to Baron and I think Baron liked him too. It was hard to tell, because every time I tried to leave to give them some privacy, Baron went ballistic. We have really bonded, but I was the one who opened the cage of that horrible place he was in and took him home.

He doesn’t have a backyard, but he now lives right next to Waterford Park. Ray wants him for a companion and for protection, as Ray lives above his business in Portland.

It was so hard to leave Baron. I cried most of the way home. But it wouldn’t have mattered, Ray could have had 80 acres fenced and I would have felt the same sadness.

Ray has promised to stay in touch via emails and he will send photographs. We got a lot of hits of interest for Baron, but most of the people I talked to were just wanting him for cosmetic reasons- (guard dog) no talk of long walks, runs or anything that generated a companionship/relationship. Ray, however, got down on the ground immediately when he saw Baron and Baron gave him a full face washing.

Go in peace sweet boy- and have a good life. If only you hadn’t attacked the kittens and the cats- you could have had a good life here with us. But, we have to trust the dogs here, and every time we turned around, you proved we couldn’t trust you. I love you, and I will miss you. It is almost as if I just lost my Brandy all over again.

This morning while I was grocery shopping, I quickly grew tired of fighting
my way down over-crowded aisles. Trying to get my cart past shoppers with
cell phones glued to their ears, and battling the flood of children who
seemed to crowd every aisle wore me out very quickly. So, in order to grab a peaceful moment, I stopped at the magazine and book section. I picked up the newest issue of Quilter’s Home Magazine, a magazine I write for from time to time (thanks to a lead years ago from Cat Writers’ Association).

My first article with them was about keeping your cats out of your quilting
stash. Then I fell into assignments concerning people who lose loved ones,
stitch up memory quilts and the story behind the quilts. The assignments are
never easy, because for those who I interview, their grief is never
painless.

In the Reader’s Letter section, I saw this:

“I was reading your Sept. magazine last evening and came across the article
by Mary Anne Miller. It had quite an impression on me because my husband
passed away last November after a brief illness. I have not been able to
quilt or even look at plans for quilts. I kept saying I wanted to, but time
passed and I never got to them. Well, last evening I pulled out a project
and the machine and sewed. Today, I spent some time designing a quilt and
started cutting. It feels so good to get back to something that has given me
so much enjoyment. Please thank her for her wonderful article. It had so
much meaning for me.”

Doris Harris
Whippany, NJ

This validates what I do. It shows me, what I have known all along (though
sometimes forget) that words matter and they can have impact on people. I
have two articles on my desk due before Christmas. I was stalled out, not
really writer’s block, but not happy with what I’ve written, but unsure how
to change them. This reader’s letter has given me what I need to restart my
articles. To make them matter.

Samuel Johnson once wrote: “What is written without effort is in general
read without pleasure.”

Guini is a special kitty. She is also a special needs cat. She was intentionally run over by her previous owner, and denied vet care. Her bones did eventually heal, but Nature wasn’t as kind as a surgeon’s skilled hands.

She is pure white with golden eyes. She has lived on the floor of our bedroom for over a year now. We got her out of the shelter on June 22, 2006 and then it was estimated she was 17 years old.

Her walk is peculiar, it is a bit of a waddle, crab crawl and hop combination. Her ability to climb is nonexistent, and in the entire time we have been with her, I have never seen her groom herself.

Her preference is to live in solitude, so she lives alone in the bedroom on soft cushions. Her litter pan is a hot water drain pan with the holes plugged up. She is an absolutely delightful cat who loves to be brushed, scratched and petted.

This morning, I decided to give her a bath. She really needed one and I believe this was her first bath she ever had. She did quite well, but what saved me was letting her hang on to the lip of the bucket she was in, instead of digging her claws into my arms. She was nervous, but she didn’t fight and I was able to really give her a good bath.

I took her into the bedroom and with warming towels, I was drying her off. I got her as dry as possible, but when I turned around, she scooted under the bed. Now, this is where all the dustbunnies came up to her and said “Hi Guinie glad to meet cha~” By the time I got her out from under the bed, she really needed a bath, so she got two baths instead of one! I also did a thorough cleaning of the dirt and dust under the bed. (Our ceiling caved in a few weeks ago due to the rain) only the underside of the ceiling thankfully, not all of it. So the dust was pretty bad.

Now Guinevere is sleeping peacefully. She has been dried off and had her grooming session. The water was so dirty in the bucket it was almost sludge! At least, there were no fleas. Thank God for Advantage.