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.
No one can sing about Prejudice the way Tim Minchin can.
We came home after a trip to the vet a few weeks ago to find the most blantant sexual act happening on our front steps.
With any luck, my doctor appointment WILL happen today as scheduled.
With any luck, my next nap will be free of nightmares.
With any luck, Celia will eat without us having to carry her food to her. The scaredy cat diva.
With any luck, I will make it through today on just a single dose of pain meds.
With any luck, I’ll get my photos from this weekend uploaded.
With any luck, I’ll remember where I left most of my marbles.
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.
My day started off wrangling cats, giving them fresh food and water, then struggling to hold Celia and get her 1 cc of antibiotic down her throat. Fletch was a bit easier, but only just barely. He tried gagging and acted as if he were about to throw up the whole dose. Afterward, Fletch forgave me almost immediately, as he is wont to do. Celia, however, tried to make herself invisible and if I did see her? Well, the evil eye only partially covers the look she gave me.
Then I had to race in for a shower. I had a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon and there were other things to do before we left. Fletch came into the shower to play a little bit before I finally kicked him out because it was all business today and no play. I finished up and called for King Arthur as it was his turn. I’m wandering around, gathering all the things to get dressed and the phone rings. It’s a couple hours before the appointment and I’m surprised to hear it’s the doc’s office. My original appointment was on Tuesday, which they rescheduled at the last minute (thank God! I was wiped out). This call was all about “do you think you can get an MRI and some x-rays done before your appointment today?” I ask first if they’ve been approved by the insurance company. I’m on hold forever and then am told they have been. I then let the gal know where I live and how long it normally takes me to get to the office, “a stop for the scans will mean I won’t be on time for my appointment.” I’m told not to worry; that the doctor will wait. I’m thinking maybe someone was supposed to send me on Tuesday for the scans and forgot.
Scramble, scramble, scramble. KA looks up the address of the imaging center and we set off. It takes us roughly 30 minutes to get there. I’m in. It takes me about 20 minutes to fill out paperwork and change and be led into the MRI room. As they’re setting up, I’m on the table, I’m off the table, I’m back on the table, oh wait a minute, we have to do this a different way, etc. Finally, the first scan is 20 minutes long. Set up for the second scan is about 10 minutes and the scan itself is 25 minutes long. No worries. Oh, wait. X-rays! Guy’s not ready for me yet. Then it’s rush, rush, rush, turn this way, turn that way, hold still, turn this way, hold, turn again, hold, turn and…oh, wait. We need to get the next tray. Hang on. Turn, hold, turn, hold, turn, hold, bend this way, hold, turn, hold, bend that way, hold, turn, hold, lean back, hold, turn, hold, open your mouth as far as you can, hold, okay, you’re done. Yay!
By this time, the doc’s office has called the imaging clinic and rescheduled my appointment AGAIN. Fine. I’m in pain at this point and really didn’t want to be in and out of the van and be examined with the push here, pull there, stand up, sit down, twist and shout, do the watusi, now buh-bye, see you in another six weeks. Instead, I simply call the office, confirm the reschedule (for next week), and off King Arthur and I go to the Olde Ship for supper. I order a Scottish Bridie for my meal. He gets meatloaf. Both are delicious. And both of us end up with leftovers.
We have one stop officially left on our list. We have to go to the one store where my blouse has finally come in. KA bought me a pretty blouse that ended up being too big. So instead of us shipping it back, we took it in to the store and did a bit more shopping, blah blah blah. Anyhow, the blouse was in and we were in that part of town, so in we went. He found me a cool t-shirt that hadn’t been there last week or ten days ago or something. We hasten out of there (because to stay longer would only mean spending more money and we just don’t need to do that). I ask for only one more thing before we head home: dessert. Krispy Kreme. We hit the drive-thru and then head for home.
At this point, we’ve been out of the house for almost 5 1/2 hours. And just as we get about 2 or 3 miles from home, the rain starts. Perfect timing! Our crazy day would have been impossible if the rain had come sooner.
Once home, we both get into comfy clothes and sink into our chairs. I pop a couple Tylenol and pray they do the trick until it’s time for my vicodin. They do well enough and it’s relatively quiet until it’s time to do meds again. (These, by the way, are pre-op meds for the cats who will be going in for their teeth on Friday.) Fletch is a snap. I pick him up, put the syringe in front of his face, he opened his mouth, and bing bang boom it was done. He got his treats and I went back to my chair. I pointed to the towel I had out for Celia, noted the meds were ready to go, and told King Arthur he was on his own. He wasn’t. I got the meds in her mouth, but he held her this time! (I have a rather deeeeeeep scratch on the outer part of my palm from her the night before.)
And here I am. It’s almost 03:00 and I’m just catching up on e-mail, blogging, a couple tv shows, and am slowly but steadily making my way to bed. I’m beat. The cats are beat. King Arthur is beat (he’s been in bed for a few hours already as he’s able to fall asleep quickly, whereas I am not so much).
Again, my glamorous life. Don’t you wish your life was just as cool?
Was up at 0445 this morning. My wake-up call was…dun dun DUUUUUUUUUUUN! Another aftershock.
And you thought I’d be blogging about something different? Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Suckers.
Just had another little aftershock as I began typing this. Perhaps it’s as King Arthur said: I’ve never been so close to the epicenter to notice all the aftershocks before. But, me? I think it’s just insane that we’ve had over 100 since Friday’s quake. It’s unnerving. And it’s kept me on edge just enough to make me feel as though something bigger is on its way.
As I told Pam in comments yesterday, I feel like we’re all just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I don’t like feeling this way.
However, I did actually get to sleep last night. 4 hours. That’s a pretty good stretch for me since all this started.
Everyone is up and moving now, so I’m off to vacuum the bathroom to get all the remaining pottery shards I didn’t get already. Some are in the shower itself. How they got in there, I don’t know, but they’re in there. Every time I look, there are more. I’ve gone in with wet cloths to clean up, I’ve swept. I’ve done this multiple times and still keep finding more.
Eh, who’m I kidding? Princess Bride is on. I’ll wait until after it’s over before I go do that.
I’ve never been so done with anything in my entire life.
Just when you think it’s safe to go back in the water, Jaws comes racing to the surface to eat us all up.
We’re really nothing more than ragdolls being tossed about carelessly by a rambunctious child.
That child needs a timeout. A very long timeout.
There’s really been no break in turbulence longer than an hour. I’m done. I want off this crazy ride.
We’ve had tremblers all night following our 5.1 earthquake at 21:09 last night. They’ve continued all morning.
And then we had another quake. Probably somewhere in the 3.0 range. Doesn’t sound like much but it was knocking things around.
I’ve not slept at all. This whole thing has left me a bit discombobulated. I keep thinking I’ll just pass out from exhaustion at some point, but it has yet to happen. So I’ve been playing with Fletch. We’ve thrown the ball up and down the hall, through the living room, over the couch, etc. He’s having fun. It’s wearing me out. That should be enough to knock me out, right?
King Arthur went out to get shopping done earlier and the drugstore was closed because of the mess from last night’s quake. He hit several other stores while he was out and said everything else was running smoothly, he just made sure he was far from shelves and heavy stuff while he was in stores.
And with yet another trembler while I was writing this, I’m outta here. Gonna actually attempt to lay down and sleep. Let’s see how well that goes, shall we?
Thank God it didn’t come to thatl No deaths that we know of thus far and I’m praying there will NOT be another quake that leaves me feeling this unsettled. For a long, long time to come.
Okay, I was more than unsettled. I was scared. Even after it stopped my heart continued to race and it’s been over for several hours now. The aftershocks don’t seem to bother me all that much. I just don’t like earthquakes.
This one was scary because you could tell it was close. Those are the worst. And any that shake and roll at the same time make it seem longer and you’re much less steady. This is the kind we had.
We’ve had endless sirens all night. Helicopters flying about, circling the big water main break.
All manner of odd noises are going on late into the night, which, of course, up the ante on the tension. Continuing aftershocks don’t help either.
Oh, and during the big 5.1 (or 5.3, depending on your source) magnitude, our front door flew open and wouldn’t stay closed. The cats freaked out, which meant I panicked and believed that Celia exited through the front door when I spotted it open 5 minutes later. Nope, she hid behind some artwork stacked in front of the bookcase. It took us an hour to find her. WHEW! I can handle the stuff that fell and broke, I can handle all sorts of things. But not a lost and frightened cat. I was near tears the whole time.
We were lucky in that our damage was cheap stuff that I’m comfortable with never replacing.
Mark my words though: if Celia had escaped, she’d be hard to find and unlikely to ever be turned in if someone caught her. And I would never be able to stop crying. But she was found and now all is right with the world and I am still too shook up to try sleepingl
And for those of you of the Visuals Appreciation Society, here’s a little visual aid.
You can see where that orange arrow indicates the epicenter (La Habra) and the varying shades of pink indicating Fullerton, which is where I reside. The blue arrows indicate major freeways or areas of importance (like Disneyland or Knotts Berry Farm or other freeways). To say this quake hit a little too close to home for my liking would bearly scratch the surface of how I feel. Still, as scary as earthquakes are, I prefer them to tornadoes, from which no one is truly safe. Experienced enough of those in my lifetime to know they’re near the tippy top of my Scaredy Cat list.
Anyhow, to make a long story just a wee bit longer, as the quake hit, Music Choice was playing “Shake Rattle & Roll”. God has a wicked sense of humor sometimes.
And that’s all I have to say about that.
I love the way kids look at the world.
Imagine a 14-year-old coming up with a way for the government to save millions of dollars simply by changing the font they use.
That’s how it’s done, folks. Let the kids tackle some of our budget problems (and why not other problems?) and we may find a way to balance the budget.
I love the Wounded Warrior Project and all it does to help our injured military personnel adapt to life and take charge of their world. Here’s a video that’s worth every second of your time.