Da Goddess

I’ve been adjusting to another round of increased pain meds this week. Between P.T. and the drives to P.T. (really, driving makes my neck and back so much worse…and I’m just the passenger!), I’ve been having the worst time knocking the pain down to a manageable level. So, the doc has me on another two week course of Oxycontin to go with all my regular meds. It’s either that or I’m miserable. Except that I’m kind of miserable anyway, what with it making me sleep all the time. Poor King Arthur! He’s stuck with this lump of nothing all day long.

Also started reading a new book that’s rather interesting. “Life After Life” by Kate Atkinson. It’s very good and I’m having trouble putting it down. Kind of like the last book I read, which was “Code Name Verity” by Elizabeth Wein. Do yourself a favor and pick that one up immediately! “Verity” is simply heroic and joyous and heartbreaking and everything in between. It’s beyond words. I’ll have to let you know what I think of “Life” when I’m all through with it.

Been on a bit of a Stephen Fry tear again. I can’t help it! He makes me happy. As does Craig Ferguson. Sigh. I was supposed to go audition for Ferg’s new game show, but my back said, “No, No, Nanette!” Bother.

There’s a great piece on title=”Joan Rivers” target=”_blank”>Joan Rivers over at Vulture. Man, she was the best! She was way ahead of her time. Always.

I’ve become the cat beacon once again. Fletch has returned to sleeping on my head, or at least nearby. Celia is often close, too. Perhaps it’s my pain level they’re sensing and are trying to comfort me through. Who knows? They haven’t left many clues as to the why.

OOOH! Also found a great article about a new Viking ring-fortress that was recently found in Denmark! Color me intrigued! P.S. I love that Viking kings had names like Bluetooth and Forkbeard (and yes, I knew this because I’m weird).

What else? Hmmm. Oh, yes. King Arthur and I went to his daughter’s to have dinner and see the baby. It’d been so long and she’s so big now! Doing a lot of cruising and crawling and eating and being adorable. I miss those days with my kids. They really were great babies and they’ve grown into great adults. So very proud of them. Just as KA is proud of his daughter.

Finally, I’ll leave you with this weird dream I had yesterday: King Arthur and I were at Burning Man (he was watching a doco on it when I fell asleep), but we were there early to set up and had faire garb with us (hmm, could be because faire is coming up again and we have to get ready for that). At some point, KA did something mean and had me in tears and I refused to go to meet up with our group because I didn’t want them to see me crying. Somehow or other, I ran into him at a beer stand (??) and he wept profusely and begged me to forgive him. I was still upset and set off to distract myself with entertainment. I passed Par1s Hi1t0n (???!?!?!!) who was dressed like a total hooch in the middle of the desert on my way to see Derek Trucks and Susan Tedeschi (????!) on the big stage. Eventually, I went back to our car because my back hurt so much (yes, even in my dreams I hurt…which is normal, except for last week when I was dreaming of my life before I got hurt) and began freaking out because I couldn’t find my medication anywhere. Talk about crazy ass dream! I’d like someone to sort that out for me. Also include an old high school boyfriend, a former LV boyfriend, Shemar Moore, a brother I have never had, and some unknown people who were in two groups: either hassling me or exceedingly kind to me. Oh, and a sculpture I made out of trash and recyclables for my Burning Man art project (because you MUST participate). If anyone can make heads or tales out of that nonsense, please do tell!

Not that we don’t celebrate cats each and every day here, but it’s nice to know other people celebrate, too.

title=”Amazing cat photos” target=”_blank”>International Cat Day is a thing, people. C’mon, do your part to make nice with the pussies of the world!

Every once in a while, I go into the spare bedroom to grab clothes or put clothes away. Fletch follows me in. Celia is not allowed in there. Fletch is pretty easy to extract. Celia is not. So I do everything possible to keep her out of that room.

While Mojo was here a few weeks ago, we had gone into the spare room and Fletch had followed us. As we were getting ready to leave, Fletch had basically set up camp in a corner where I couldn’t reach him, and from where he chose not to respond when I called him. So Mojo and I walked out of the room and closed the door on him, with me fully intending to go back in a few minutes to let him out. Well, we got to fixing lunch and talking and then began to play games and it wasn’t until probably two hours later that I remembered he was in there. No fuss or anything from him to remind me. Noooo, that would have been too easy! So I go in and expect to see him sitting by the door, giving me the look of disgust for leaving him in there, and I see him, instead, atop the tallest dresser, lounging as if this were the best damn thing he ever thought of. I pick him up and coo my most sincere apologies to him and he really just couldn’t care less. (Although, to be fair, he did give me a couple of little kisses.) Horrifying “locked in a bedroom for hours” ordeal over. You’d figure he’d be wary of the room. Ha!

This morning, just before King Arthur went out, he’d gone back into the room for something, not checking to see who was behind him and not closing the door as he walked into the room. (I know nothing of this at the time, just filling in the audience as a good narrator should.) King Arthur leaves for his lunch meeting with his investment counselor. I’m doing laundry. I get caught up in a show. I eat some lunch, awaiting King Arthur’s return from his lunch, and I wonder where my Fletch could be. I see Celia, but no Fletch. I call for him, look around to see where he might be hiding. Nothing. I hear no distress cry or scratching, so I figure he’s just napping and “vants to be alone” a la Garbo.

Couple hours later, King Arthur returns home and I’m still puttering around the house. No sign yet of the Fletch monster. Finally, after much discussion, it’s determined that he simply has to be in the back room (or perhaps, in the closet in our bedroom, which is another story for another time) and I head back there, open the door, and there he is! King Arthur’s insistent that he’s not been back there for anything. I know I haven’t. And we’re pretty certain Fletch hasn’t learned to open doors quite yet. Turns out, that, yes, King Arthur HAD been back there before he left the house. Ay yi yi! This is about the time I start planning signage for the door along the lines of: “Check for cat before entering room. Shut door before he enters.” “Check for cat before leaving room!” “Check for cat! Always check for cat!”

Once again, Fletch made it out of there sans trauma. In fact, I’m pretty sure he thought it was simply independent play time in the special Fletch playroom.

Silly cat.

Since then, we’ve been playing with bubbles, which he LOVES! He catches the between his paws. He bites at them. He stomps them with his furry little paws. And then he looks up at me, expectantly, awaiting more. Always more. More. More. More. Please, more bubbles! More. Please! I like bubbles!

Best damn 25 cents I even spent at a yard sale.

Maybe the next one will have signs for the bedroom door.

Little Dude has arrived! He’s currently on the sofa with Celia in his lap. She picked him back at the shelter and I somehow think she’s only put up with me and with King Arthur in hopes that LD would soon return.

This week we have to finish up paperwork for his recruiter. Yep, you read that right: his recruiter. USMC. He’s doing an early enlistment deal with delayed entry so he can finish his last year in high school. I can’t even begin to wrap my head around this. At all. He’s my baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaby booooooy! I just…can’t…with this. Sigh.

Since he got here this morning, we’ve made three stops, had lunch, played with cats, and are watching movies because, well, that’s what we do.

Anyhow, that’s what’s going on here today.

Oh, Fletch!

Honestly, that cat is just weird.

Well, at least they try to fight crime. It’s a pretty hard job, you know.

One police station in Kyoto has a cat named on the job.

In Seoul, South Korea, Mango and Mango Kobun handle various duties around the station, including keeping morale high.

At Kishi Station, Tama serves as the Super Station Master. Not exactly police work, but still an official job of authority! And her presence there helped save the station from closing. That’s pretty damn cool.

By now, the whole world has pretty much heard the story about the cat who saved a California child from a dog attack. Tara, the brave kitty, is now your basic international superstar!

Then there’s Quirky, the blind kitten. Super powers: a little echolocation used to get around; has a seeing eye dog, should super powers fail; and, finally, ULTRA CUTENESS! So, not necessarily a crime fighter or a working cat, but Quirky is a heartbreaker of the finest kind.

And if you’re tired of cats for a while, here’s a palatte cleanser: exceedingly amazing work made of paper.

Fletch. My dear kitty. It’s 01:29. You should be sleeping. Instead, you’re running around like a wild and crazy animal with a burr up your butt. I love you, Fletch, but reeeeaaaalllly! Chill. Come curl up with Mommy and Daddy and GO TO SLEEP!

Thank you.

The Management.

I’m so very exhausted and sore from two weekends of faire that I’m declaring the next few days as Reboot days.

Talk amongst yourselves. Enjoy. Topic: Cats. Domestic Lovebugs or Feral Terrorists.

Well, we’re in the last moments of prep for the second weekend of faire. I just finished folding the last of the clothes. I’ll pack in 5 minutes in the morning. And then we’ll head down to SD for the weekend. It’ll be hotter than last weekend, which I don’t like. But otherwise, we’ll be back amongst friends and making new friends along the way.

Have a friend coming over to feed the cats on Saturday. We’d fed them their wet food early last Friday, left lots of dry food and water for the entire weekend, and then fed them again once we were home Sunday evening. While that part went okay, the stress on Celia was obvious: she lost the fur on her ears. Fletch gave me the cold shoulder when we walked in, but got over it quickly enough. In order to avoid more hair loss, our friend will be here Saturday to feed them the wet food and play with them a bit. Fingers crossed!

In the future, we’ll either have to board them while we’re gone, take them with us, or have someone come spend the entire time with them while we’re not home.

Off to bed now to get the rest I need before craziness sets in.

Just a few of my favorite Fletch shots.

The first two were taken in the shower, one of my handsome boy’s favorite places. Him inspecting the bench where we set all our shampoo and soap and such. Him up on the ledge.

And here we have Fletch up on the tree again. On the shelf that’s too small for his full figure.

One cat per chair. Nap time is sacred and I obviously disturbed them terribly. Celia’s givin’ me stink eye fo’ sho’

Forgive the glowing eyes. Sometimes you just can’t get around it with flash.

Then there was this shot. As you can see, Fletch is really a bit too large for the top shelf on the cat tree, but he likes it up there. Celia has recently taken it over as HER spot, though Fletch occasionally gets up there to play King of the Hill. Usually, it’s done with very little grace and much laughter (on our part).

Tonight, they’re being a little naughty. I’ve heard at least two separate jumps from counter to floor in the kitchen. That would be the diva. She hasn’t done that in a very long time. Apparently the chicken we fed her earlier has made her bold again.

And with that, I’m off to see what else I have hiding in my archives.

Somewhere, somehow, I think there’s a special manual cats read upon being adopted. In it, it clearly states that you (the cat) will often behave in an adorable manner in order to be forgiven for a multitude of behaviors.

For instance, you will chase things attached to strings at the end of sticks. You will roll over on your back and bat at a myriad of things. You will purr and blink your cute little eyes and twitch your whiskers and reach a paw out to lovingly pat your person. And then you will freak out over something, run through the house like a bat out of hell, poop under the bed, and hiss and growl at the person trying to help you.

Such is the case with our dear Fletch. He was playing feather chase cat fishing with King Arthur when he somehow got tangled up in the line, ran under the table, broke the dowel, and ran hissing and growling through the house with part of the dowel banging behind him. Celia became aware of the situation and ran after him. I’m not sure if it was because she felt sorry for him or because she was laughing at his plight (you can never tell with her). After seeking refuge under KA’s desk, Fletch then ran back under the table, banging around a bit more, and then took off for the bedroom. I’d been going for the scissors for KA to cut the line off Fletch’s foot while all this was happening and ended up going to the bedroom to fetch the Fletch. He was under the bed, growling, hissing, and generally being all kinds of pissed off. I don’t blame him. As I looked under the bed for him, I noticed a distinct odor and then saw the three turds. They were fresh. I knew they were his. I left him to calm down a bit, grabbed some toilet paper, scooped the poop, flushed it, washed my hands, and then gingerly got down on my knees to find my kitty. I began extracting the items stored under the bed. And then I saw him. No longer was he throwing his hissy fit. Instead, he was huddled under the bed looking rather forlorn. I pulled out the bag with the comforter. He didn’t budge. I could get the dowel cut off, so I did that. Then I left him for a moment to calm down. When I came back, I tried to talk him out from under the bed. No such luck. I psssttt’d him, I cooed at him, I whispered, I cajoled. All to no avail. So, risking life and limb, I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him out. No resistance. No sound. Just a very sad look. I tried to loosen the knot on his back leg. Nope. Didn’t work. I called for KA to bring me the scissors (I don’t know why I put them away after I cut off the dowel. I wasn’t thinking). At this point, Fletch was in my lap and was very subdued, as if embarrassed by his plight. KA cut the line and we told Fletch he was a good boy for not struggling and told him he was okay. He just lay there. (I’m pretty sure the manual says you have to play dead when all else fails.)

Finally, after much comforting from us, he got up and sauntered out to the living room. Again, I think the manual requires you to act cool as a cucumber after you’ve wigged out. He then proceeded to flop down on the sofa, sigh heavily, and fall asleep as only a cat can do. He’s been rather sedate the rest of the day. No big, golden eyes hinting at mischief. No twitchy tail. Nothing but cool detachment and absolute disavowal of the freak out.

Needless to say, in the person section of the aforementioned manual, it says the person who is owned by said cat to cuddle and coddle cat as much as possible after any perceived trauma. And that we did.

Fletch survived his teeth cleaning yesterday. He was much better behaved after sedation, got through it all with flying colors, and lost a tooth in the process. As they were cleaning one of the teeth, it was so loose it just came out.

While he was gone, Celia the Diva was rather cuddly and wanted lots of attention. She didn’t seem to know what to do with herself all alone. She curled up in his spot on the couch and slept there for a while. The night before, I think she knew something was up because she spent a good ten minutes grooming Fletch…AND HE LET HER!

Once Fletch was home, the cats did their little “hi, nice to see ya” walk around one another and then he went into full play mode. He attacked my slipper, flipping it up and around, scampering everywhere with it. He grabbed whatever he could and played and played, and Celia actually reached out a paw to him as if to say, “remember me? I might like a little fun.” Later, he was wandering about and she was following him. She attempted to engage him in…something. Play? Terrorizing him? I couldn’t say. But it was definitely gentler than her normal approach. Is it too much to hope that they’ll begin playing together soon?

The boy is now zonked out on his tree, Celia up on the back of my chair. One of her favorite places. When I crawl into bed, I’m fairly sure she’ll follow as she’s been doing a great deal lately. (Shhh, don’t tell her I’m telling you this, but she actually climbed up on top of King Arthur the other night!)

Oh! And Fletch’s liver function test was down again. Celia’s, I’m sure, is still over-elevated, but I’m hoping she’s down a bit, too.

In other news on the cat front, he took his antibiotics like a total champ.

Good kitty!

The cats did NOT get their teeth cleaned as scheduled. Instead, they were in for a day of testing and for…well, let’s just say the day didn’t go as it was supposed to.

I got a call. Fletch had elevated liver enzymes. Instead of being in range (that tops out at 100), he was at 250. Celia was at 750. Fletch was prepped for his dental procedure as his levels weren’t so high that they were felt to be dangerous. Then another call came in. “Is Fletch normally aggressive?” No. In fact, the only aggression he’s ever shown was once while I was holding him to keep him from Celia’s food. He got over it quickly. He’s the most laid back cat ever. He’s sweet and funny and silly and loving. Apparently the pre-sedation meds they gave him made him aggressive so the procedure was scrapped until next week and they’ll try something different on him.

With Celia’s liver enzymes so high, they didn’t even want to risk putting her under. Instead, they ran other tests to see what was possibly causing the spike. Nothing conclusive yet. Except there’s a prescription for special food for the two of them. It runs $60-80 per 4 pound bag.

The only things they’ve been taking are the meds that were prescribed by the vet. They had the ear meds. That’s done. Then a few days ago, they started on their antibiotics. And there’s L-Lysine for Fletch since he has a slightly herpetic lesion near his eye. Now there’s a new med: Adenosine. To help liver function. Directions indicate we can give each cat one half a pill twice a day. Considering how well the liquid dosing went, it seemed like a better, less stressful idea to crush it and put it in their food. It’s a pain to break down. It smells horrendous. But I’m willing to do it and see if that helps.

After all the phone calls and the return of the cats (who were NOT thrilled with the way their day went), I started thinking.

I don’t know that I want to spend that much money on food if we set out to give them a week of just regular food and no meds and no stress; maybe that will help lower their levels. I need to call the vet in the morning and ask if we can go that route.

Fletch has since gotten over his hatred of everyone and everything and is back to being playful and loving. Yay!

Celia has been hiding. When she’s not hiding, she wanders around mewling in the most pathetic manner. She barely ate. Fletch wanted to help her, but that shouldn’t happen as she needs her food and her meds. After hours of moving the food around and trying to prevent him from getting at it, Celia poked her head out from under the rocker, behind some boxes, and began to eat. She did a fair job, but there was a lot left. No matter what we did, Fletch still got to it. It looks like we’ll have to feed them in separate rooms, doors closed. It’s going to be an absolute bitch to do and we’re just gonna have to suck it up and do it.

Sigh. So much trouble for two little cats. Well, one little cat (who has lost weight since her last visit) and one BIG cat (who’s gained weight since his last visit). I love them dearly. So does King Arthur. It’s just hard to find out they have a plethora of health issues that are preventing them from having a long, healthy life. We’ll do it, though. That’s what we signed up for. We’re just going to have to work with the vet to try a few things before we go crazy money-wise on special food and extra procedures and the like.

That grinding sound, the one that seems rather faint, yet still ever-present? That’s us. Our teeth will be down to nubs soon, I’m sure.