Déjà Vu in Reverse

I don’t know if any of you have noticed, but I haven’t had much to say about She Who Must Be Named. That’s because she wasn’t here to be named. A few days after Miss Nameless and Sophie joined our household we went to the vet for immunizations and general health check. The three of us waited in the exam room for the vet to come back with the results of their blood tests and when I was told Miss Nameless tested positive for feline leukemia I thought I was also being tested but instead of testing my blood they were testing my sense of humor. Hahaha ... don’t give up your day job. Turns out they weren’t joking. They told me the virus is incurable.  Sometimes mother cats pass the virus to their kittens in the womb and the kitten can rid themselves of it but I wasn't getting the impression that the vet thought Miss Nameless would be fine.  On top of that, it was going to involve an eight week wait and a retest to find out if Miss Nameless would actually fight the virus off and to be sure Sophie (who tested negative) wasn't still going to test positive.  During that eight week wait both kittens would have to be separated so Miss Nameless could not pass it on to Sophie.  

I didn’t think I could keep the two of them separated for the next eight weeks, but more than that, I just wasn’t up to becoming attached to a kitten who might be sick and watching her suffer so soon after I’d had to put Lily to sleep. So I walked in to the vet's office with two kitties and I walked out with one. I left Miss Nameless and her foster mom and dad came and took her back home.

Flash forward to yesterday, eight weeks later. Sophie and Miss Nameless are at the vet being tested for the virus again.  Miss Nameless' appointment was 20 minutes before Sophie's so her results were in first.  Negative.  (woo hoo!)  She had worked it out of her system. While we all waited for Sophie's results we shared kitty stories and reacquainted the sisters. Sophie’s blood test was finally completed and she was still negative. (more woo hoo!). So Miss Nameless' foster parents said a tearful goodbye to her and this time I walked out of the vet with two kitties.

Sophie, the sweet, cuddly, affection kitty we have come to love has not been putting her best foot forward as she's become reacquainted with her sister, Maybe Maisie  (formerly Miss Nameless/She Who Must Be Named).  

How could you not love those little mitten paws?



 

Maybe Maisie

 

Who is in my chair?!



    

There has been some hissing, some growling and some stalking.

 

Little Maisie is still timid and nervous and probably wondering where the heck her foster mom is and why that mean little kitty doesn’t like her. Sophie and I have had some serious discussions about her behavior, but so far she just looks at me, pretends to pay attention and then totally ignores everything I’ve said.

As time goes on and Maisie and Sophie adjust to each other I hope to have more (and better) photos and some kitty stories but for now we’re all just happy she’s back (and healthy!), and giving her space.  We're patient.  We'll wait as long as it takes for her to decide she's darn good and ready to crawl out from under the couch.  When she does finally make longer appearances I’ll sit her down and tell her how to deal with bullies. 

Who?  Me?  A bully?







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Déjà Vu in Reverse

And Then There Were Four

This is my first ever cell phone.   And it is my current cell phone. It’s been with me since I joined the world of cell phone users about 3 ½ years ago. It does not text or take pictures or connect to the internet. Not that it couldn’t, but I blocked those features because the first week I had it I accidentally connected to the web for a mere 2 seconds which resulted in a $1.99 extra charge on my first bill. Thankfully Verizon is used to freaked-out customers who are willing to admit they barely know how to flip open the phone let alone surf the web and they refunded my money.

I also have an iPod. I use it to listen to music and e-books and Spanish lessons, although the Spanish lessons ... not so much anymore.  I can also e-mail from it and surf the web for things like how to say in Spanish, “no thank you. I prefer not to sleep in the airport” which is especially handy when I’m stranded in Panama. And I can Skype Abby from it but I can’t Skype from it unless I’m able to connect to the internet. If I’m connected to the internet it means I’m either at home (where I have an actual Skype phone) or enjoying the fine cuisine in an airport (which I try to avoid at all costs) so when I'm at work, the iPod’s not doing me much good for “Hi, Abby, it’s your mom. Just thought I’d give you a quick call” since the internet at work is clamped down tighter than my lips when baby-poop looking food is placed in front of me.

I have now decided I’m ready to jump feet-first into the world of data plans and smart phones. Why?  Partly because, well, the apple doesn't fall from the tree.  My dad buys a new car every year.  Okay, not every year, maybe only every 14 to 18 months, but often enough that salesmen have nearly died from pushing each other out of the way in order to get to my dad when he pulls into the car lot.  And what is my dad's reason for aiding the sales men and women in their acquisition of boats?  “Because I want to.”  Seems a good enough reason to me. 

But mostly “I want to”  because I’m tired of hardly ever being able to talk to Abby while she's in Ecuador. Ecuador time is now two-hours later than we are so either I’m at work or the gym when Abby’s available, or I’m home from work and the gym but it’s dinner time for her, or she’s finished with dinner but it’s my dinner time, or I’m finished with dinner but it’s bedtime for her, or she’s up in the morning but I’m still sleeping. Can you feel the frustration? We never seem to be able to talk other than through e-mail. If I had a smart phone I could Skype her during the day without having to use my lunch break to hop in my car, drive to Starbucks, load up their wifi on my iPod, Skype her, say “Hi. Gotta go!” and then jump back in my car and get back to work before my half hour is up. No.....I haven’t done that.........but I’ve thought about it.  I know I can be a bit nutso, but I'm not quite that nutso, not yet anyway.

So here’s my dilemma:  now that Verizon carries the iPhone in our area should I buy an iPhone or a Droid? I need your help deciding. Really. I really do. So please help me out by making your choice below. And do it soon, please. I’m ready, really ready (I think ... almost positive ... pretty sure anyway) to buy one.

Please only vote once and it would be even better if you would vote AND leave me a comment about why you voted the way you did. Why do you think the iPhone or the Droid is better? What do you hate or love about those phones?  I’m pretty sure I’m one of only five people left in the world without a smart phone – for now anyway – but whether you do or don't have one, I know you all have an opinion. So here's your chance. Don't be shy. Let's hear it!

Here's a (four hours after this was posted) thought ~~  Feel free to send this post to anybody you know who uses a Droid or an iPhone or has an opinion one way or another even if they don't have one.  But you should probably promise them all they have to do is scroll straight to the bottom without reading any of my mindless ramblings.  I wouldn't want to be responsible for ending any friendships.
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And Then There Were Four

Gesundheit!

My blogger friend, Art, who just so happens to be the father of my cubie-wall-mate, recently suffered a massive heart attack and is now recovering from "holy cow that wasn't fun!" multi-bypass surgery.  I haven't actually spoken to him since he had his surgery, so I'm just guessing, but I'd bet that bag of chocolate candies in my desk drawer that he said something just like that.

When Art's not out counting critters or birds he's writing poetry and haiku which I guess is a short kind of poetry.  If I would have actually carefully read the haiku information I just linked to I could probably tell you exactly what it is.  But what's the point of a link if I go ahead and spill the beans right here?  However, I do know (because I did read a little) that a haiku verse has five syllables in the first line, seven in the second and five in the last and they don't have to rhyme. 

I have decided for this post I will write a haiku that will succinctly sum up my last post so I can save Art time.  Because what kind of blogger friend would I be if he had to put off eating another tub of green jell-o or shorten the length of time he could blow into an inhalation therapy device just so he could read a blog post?  So.....this one's for you Art.

Warm gift in my hand

Flattened critters help us all

Woman wins again

If anybody (besides, you Art) is reading this and would like to leave a haiku for Art at his blog I'm pretty sure he would love it.  I bet he'd even put down the blowing device just so he could read it ... not so sure he'd put off eating the jell-o though.

TODAY'S TIP

(yes, I'm bored already)

Helmets are important not only while riding your bicycle, motorcycle, downhill skiing or snowboarding.  Helmets are important and necessary while wearing a booster seat strapped to your butt.  You may think the risk is low as you waddle around on a flat surface, bent at the waist, plastic-covered keister randomly sweeping glasses, books and plants from their surfaces, but when you decide at the last moment to negotiate a stairway, you will regret not planning ahead and attaching that egg-shaped (half an egg-shaped anyway) accessory on your head.  Be safe out there. 



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Gesundheit!

Mr. Spock Knows The Answer

I’m worried that the bite of baby poop-like bio-hazard substance I ingested a couple of weeks ago killed a few brain cells because I have been unable to come up with anything to write about since that unfortunate dinner. It must have been even more traumatic for me than I realized and in my attempt to block the portion of my brain responsible for terror I may have inadvertently blocked all my creative brain cells as well. It’s pretty sad that the only thing I can think to write about since that ill-fated dinner episode is also doo doo-related.

Unfortunately, my tale is Sophie doo doo-related and Dean loves to go out of his way to point out to me any little feline misstep. I’m not really sure why he bothers because he is never going to win the “your dog” / “your cat” battle. First of all, my kitties/cats rarely screw up. Secondly, when they do make a mistake (as you will see in my examples) it is so insignificant it’s barely worth noting. But I suppose when you are the owner of a dog who over the years has not only repeatedly, but royally, screwed up, you grasp at any straw within your reach.

The Examples:

“I was in the kitchen and I heard a crash. I went into the living room and YOUR kitty had knocked over the shamrock plant and was batting the pottery pieces around on the floor. I had to go buy a new pot and repot the plant.”

“Your dog chewed up the VCR remote and now we can't record any of your favorite shows.”

“Your cat threw up a ribbon.”

“Your dog snuck her head in the litter box and had a snack. And then you let her kiss you.”

“Your cat threw up a hair tie.”

“While you were out of town your dog found all the bags of your beer making supplies, took each bag in her mouth, and one at a time, shook them vigorously back and forth, spraying hops, wheat, and powdery stuff all over the family room carpet. It took me two hours to clean it up.”

“Your cat threw up a hair ball.”

“While you were out of town your dog moved the huge boulder we had blocking the wooden gate, then proceeded to chew off the bottom of it, after which she tunneled her way under. I had to bail YOUR dog out of the pound and they gave ME the ticket.”

“Your kitty used the bathtub as her litter box.”

“Your dog has used the whole carpet-covered basement floor as HER bathroom –  after she ate my iron pills … when you were at work … when it was nighttime and we were asleep … and when the cookies/bread/candy/muffins she stole off the kitchen counter were just too much for her delicate stomach...etc., etc., etc. ”
 
End of Examples

That bathtub one … that’s got a back story. It’s not nearly as bad as it seems. Here’s the story. Sophie seems to prefer the bathtub over her litter box – but only on occasion, not every time. And not for everything….just the solid portion of her daily constitutional. The first time it happened I thought maybe the can of cat mush she’d eaten the night before (reminiscent of a dinner I recently hadn't eaten) just hadn’t agreed with her and in her desperation she’d been driven to the bathtub. So I stuck to dry cat food. The next time it happened I thought maybe Shadow was blocking her way to the laundry room. I debated with myself a while … but Dean would notice if Shadow was missing.

A couple of weeks ago she was spayed and declawed which meant she had to use special newspaper pellets as litter for two weeks. The bathtub incidents seemed to increase a bit after the surgery and I thought maybe she hated the pellets so I shredded nice, soft newspaper for her but it didn’t seem to make a difference. I was beginning to get frustrated because I couldn’t come up with any logical reason why she would prefer a bathtub. And the risk (slim though it may be) that any animal of mine could cause more trouble than Dean’s was just unacceptable.

I began wondering if she was just lazy until the morning I saw her pawing in the bathtub as I was getting ready for work. I knew what that pawing meant. I picked her up, took her downstairs, physically put her inside the litter box and headed back upstairs to finish getting ready. The lazy theory went out the window when she immediately jumped out, followed me up and went right back into the tub where she once again began pawing.

Again I went to the tub to get her but I realized as soon as I picked her up that time was short. I immediately flipped her on her back and ran out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, down the stairs and around the corner with a squirming kitty, belly up, legs peddling as she tried to right herself. I think that leg peddling sped up the process at hand because as I was running my right hand became warm and filled with more than Sophie’s butt. There was no way I could turn the laundry room door knob with my right hand so I loosened the grip I had on Sophie with my left. By then she was twisting hard to get away so I was forced to grip harder with my right – the warm one, holding more than a cat – and … I think you get the picture. I managed to get the door open and once again (even though by then it was pointless) deposited her in her litter box and then went in search of some disinfectant.

I was bewailing this dilemma with my cubie-wall-mate a few days ago when he informed me that when Sophie was being fostered (while she was recovering from ringworm) she had to be kept isolated from other animals and that isolation room was a bathroom. And in that bathroom her litter box was kept in the bathtub. It was an “ah ha!” moment of fireworks and bells and whistles. There was a logical reason for her behavior and there is a solution so these few mishaps do not count against the cat portion of the “your dog/your cat” battle. Sophie just needs a little reprogramming and I still win.

So, as you can see I still don’t have anything to write about other than soft, brownish, pungent substances. But at least this time I wasn’t expected to eat it.

WWGHASODTT

We Will Get Healthy And Strong Or Die Trying Tip

Protein is an important dietary requirement.  During these difficult economic times, you may want to consider roadkill as your source of protein. You may find that by hunting the wild roadkill you are not only fulfilling your daily protein requirements but gaining the added benefit of exercise during the bending process as you scrape your carcass of choice from the pavement.

For your benefit, I have included a link for some delicious roadkill recipes you may want to try – here and here.   However, before you load up your lawn chair, plastic bags and shovels and head on out, be sure to check the roadkill regulations in your neck of the woods.   For example: in my own great state of Wyoming it must be tagged by a Game Warden first.

Remember, only bring home road kill that’s still warm. Otherwise, it’s just not safe.◦

Mr. Spock Knows The Answer