Da Victory and Da Feet

My exam is over. (HURRAH! HURRAH!)

I think it went pretty well. I lost several marks for careless errors, but that happens. I feel fairly certain that I passed. Probably with something in the 70's or maybe low 80's. Probably not high enough for scholarship money this year, but as long as I don't have to redo the class or re-write the exam, I'll count myself fortunate. Sad, though ... that scholarship sure would have been nice.

Marks get released January 27. I hate the long wait, but that's how it always is. Now, on to my next course ... Auditing. I hope I enjoy this one a bit more.

Since I have been released from my studying dungeon for the time being, I now have time to post this little anecdote.

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I took a brief study break one evening last week, and we went out for dinner as a family. I left the table for a short time to change N's diaper, and H entertained J.

There was a nice man sitting at a nearby table who thought J was pretty cute. Kept calling J "Batman", wanting to play peek-a-boo, that sort of thing. While I was gone, he caught J's eye, and he smiled and waved. And J flipped out. "Daddy, I'm scared", J cried out, before hiding in a teeny huddled mass in H's lap.

Once he felt more secure, he decided to strike up a converation with the nice man, who we will call Bert, for the sake of this entry.

J: My mommy broke her knee.
Bert: Did she?
J: Yes. She stepped on the cat and broke her knee.
Bert: Oh! Well ... Is the cat okay?
H: Yes, the cat is fine.
J: But she had to go down to heaven.

Okay, just to clarify this. The cat went to heaven because she'd had kidney failure for the past eight years and was starting to suffer. Not because I crushed her with my giant lard feet of doom.

Also, I know that heaven is "up". I've explained this on several occasions, but J seems unconvinced.

I love you because

I love H.

I love H because he can make me laugh, even during the hard times. Like today, when we passed a sign that read "Rhino Housing", and he started making light of it.

H: Look. Rhino Housing.
T: Yes, I see it.
H: Rhinoplasty.
T: Uh huh.
H: Rhino Party.
T: Yeah.
H: Rhinoplasty Party?
T: Rhinoplasticine.
H: Rhinoplasticine housing party! Plasticine rhino's house party!

And thus it progressed. Before long, I was laughing, despite myself. Life goes on.

I love H because he doesn't hesitate to tell me when I am being ridiculous. Like today, when I started searching the animal shelters' adoption banks and pulled up this picture.



A female cat. Medium haired. Three months old. And she looks almost exactly like our dearly departed. So much so, in fact, that H saw the picture displayed on my computer screen and thought someone had emailed me a picture of her.

I immediately wanted to go to the shelter to get her. H stared at me in shock. And then he took my hand, and kindly explained how crazy I sounded. Our household, with a preschooler, an infant, a wife and mother who works outside of the home and is in school and who has a broken knee, a husband and father who works outside of the home and has plans for further schooling, and a healthy 9-year old cat. Our family, grieving the loss of a cherished pet who passed only one day ago. Now is not really the best time to adopt a new pet, is it? And if it were, it is probably not the healthiest choice to adopt a cat that looks exactly like the one who just died, is it? She may look the same, but she is not the same. She will not act the same. Wouldn't I just end up resenting her for not being exactly the same, in every way?

Probably.

I love H because, even though he knew I was being unreasonable, and even though I knew I was being unreasonable, he still let me phone the shelter to ask about the kitten. Who had already been adopted. (Well, of course she had! What cat lover could resist her, really?) He let me phone. Even though he later told me that he really didn't think we would have gotten her, even had she still been there. Because to do would just be crazy. And as much as it pains me to admit it, he was right.

I love H because he was right, even though I didn't really want him to be right. He is logical when I am emotional. And I think that's good.

I love H because he is H. He comforts me when I am sad. He cares for me when I am unwell. He is my best friend. He is my rock.

I love H.

I remember you - the last years

I am sorry to say that we had to put our beloved cat down today. She was 17 years old, and had been living with renal failure since the age of 9. She was getting sicker and sicker, and we were no longer able to keep her comfortable. She had been my cat ever since she was a baby. She was a beautiful and patient animal, who loved to cuddle. She meant a great deal to me; to our whole family. Saying good-bye is very difficult. I loved her, and I will miss her horribly.

Grief sucks.

Note: If you are not a cat person, you may want to just skip over the remainder of this post.

Related posts: I remember you - the middle years; I remember you - the early years

I remember when you got sick. How you lay still, letting me do the things that I knew annoyed you, and I knew right away that you needed help. I remember taking you to emergency, and how scared I was. Okaying the bloodwork and the IV. And I remember crying when I heard your diagnosis of renal failure, and how I broke down when I picked you up after the long weekend and they told me that you were living on borrowed time.

I remember visiting you in the hospital. At emergency, and at your regular vet. You with your little front foot all bandaged up, holding your IV in place. How you would pace around to get petting. How your IV would tangle up and have to be straightened. How you would work so hard to get the attention of other animals around you, so that you could hiss at them while they were looking.

I remember when they had to start force-feeding you, to keep you well. Taking in cans of wet protein-reduced cat food, marinated in the water from cans of tuna, trying to entice you to eat. Feeding you from my fingers; you lapping up the food willingly. But not enough. Never enough. And I remember finding out that they had still force-fed you in my absence.

I remember having to give you subcutaneous fluid shots, and how you decided that you would rather eat off of a china plate than from a bowl. And how you insisted on sitting on a magazine on the floor during mealtimes. The brief period when you made H and I serenade you with appropriate soft dinner music before you would eat. The words to "The Briar and the Rose". And I remember having to force-feed you despite all of those things, whenever you were out of sorts. Your pill cocktail and your special food, that never seemed to be quite enough to keep you going.

I remember calling the vet in desperation and asking if we could feed you cottage cheese and french fries, because I knew you would eat those things, and you would not eat your food. And I remember the vet saying that you needed to be on your special protein reduced catfood, and H and I working so hard to ensure that you got enough nourishment to sustain you.

I remember all the times that I thought we were going to lose you, and how you always pulled through. The tears I cried each time you seemed to worsen, and the relief I felt each time you improved. And I remember the miracle pill, and how much better you felt after that was added into your regimen. We were able to discontinue your fluid and anti-inflammatory shots after that, and force-feeding became an occasional duty, rather than a twice daily chore. Were it not for all the pills and the special food, we would have forgotten that you were even sick.

I remember how you started putting weight back on. And how your energy began to return. And I remember your beautiful fur, that had gotten so thin and dull while you were sick, returning to its lovely full lustre once more. My mom said petting you was like putting her hand in a bag of flour, and she compared your coat to that of a chinchilla.

I remember taking you to your vet appointments, and how they marvelled at how well you were doing. The vet grabbing hold of the skin on your neck and twisting it back and forth madly to show us how well hydrated you were. And the heat wave when you started to lose steam and needed a brief IV to perk you back up. How you snarled at the little children who wanted to pet you, only allowing H and myself near your kennel. The notation on your file of "VERY grumpy today!" And how you would do your little soldier crawl across the table to H or me whenever the vet would try to examine you.

I remember all of the love that you would bestow on us. How you would demand to be as close to us as possible. And how you would lick our hands and then rub the insides of your ears against the wet spot, cleaning your head. That one time when you climbed into H's bathrobe and squirmed down into his sleeve.

I remember how you would climb up on the computer tower. How you would sleep there silently, beside the modem, while I worked on my classes, and I wouldn't even know you were there until I somehow disturbed your slumber. And I remember how you would sometimes spark the computer when you sat too close to its front, making the system restart itself right when I was in the middle of something.

How we'd buy you new collars, and you'd get your foot stuck in them trying to remove them. How you'd climb up on the kitty condo, only to be pushed off by the other cat. How you would chase other cats away from any space that you deemed to be your territory, and how you would climb in the laps of anyone who looked like they might be interested in petting you. Your special game of "chase the ball", where you and your buddy would sit at either end of the stairs and meow at each other until one of you would pounce on a ball, and then you'd both tear around the house trying to get it first. And your honeysuckle treats, that made you so happy.

I remember your companionship through my months of bed rest when I was pregnant with J. How you slept on my tummy, and how nonplussed you were when J would kick. You would just kind of bob up and down, but you never move away. You were a great comfort to me. Anytime I felt sad, I could always count on seeing your little pink nosed whiskered face peering up at me, and I always felt loved and needed at just the sight of you, and it made me happier to see you.

I remember when we brought J home from the hospital. We were so nervous about how you might react to him. But you were so good with the baby. You never hissed or snarled or snapped at him at all. And as he grew bigger, I remember being amazed at your patience with him. How you would allow him to pick you up and carry you around the house, even though you obviously hated it. How you let him snuggle with you, even when you clearly wanted to be alone.

I remember when your miracle pill stopped working as well. You started peeing outside of your litter box. And I remember taking you to the vet and being told that it appeared to be a behavioral problem. Cleaning the floors, replacing the carpets, and trying to repair the warped baseboards that you had damaged. Sticking with you. Trying to get you to go in your litter box exclusively once more.

I remember when I was put on bed rest with N, and how you would come to cuddle with me as I lay still. And I remember how your breath began to smell, knowing that you were getting sicker because of the kidney enzyme smell that came out of your mouth. I wanted to be near you, but I was so nauseous with morning sickness and so sensitive to smells that I couldn't cuddle you the way I wanted to. And I felt so badly about that. I remember how you gravitated to H during that time, and how you stopped really wanting to cuddle with me any longer.

I remember when your once bright green eyes grew dim, and began to leak fluid at the corners. The beautiful sleepy grey streaks by your eyes, now clouded in crustiness. Your fur, thinning and losing its sheen. Your movements slowing. I remember how reluctant you became to climb up the stairs. How you started to make us carry you up and down.

I remember when you stopped wanting to eat, and your weight began to drop off. How you began to throw up several times each and every day. And when you started to poop at the back door or in the basement.

I remember crying when I realized that we were no longer keeping you healthy. That you were 17 years old. That you had survived with renal failure for 8 years, and that perhaps your time had come. I remember struggling with that realization, and finally trying to do what was best for you. I remember making the phone call, and booking your appointment. You were in pain now. I didn't want you to suffer any longer. But I hated making that call, and would have done anything to have avoided it.

I remember how my mom and H didn't want me to go to your appointment. How they thought it would be too hard on me. And how I insisted that I needed to be there for you. You were such a good little cat. Such a good little friend and family member. I loved you so much, and I needed to be there with you at the end so that we could say good-bye. I see that it was the right choice, though it was hard on me.

I remember holding you at the vet, and talking to the doctor. And I remember pleading with them to find another way; to fix you and make you whole again. I remember the doctor telling us that any other way would be selfish. That you would suffer if we waited. That this was the right thing for you. That this would be painless, and that this was what you would want. I remember H and I looking at one another, hopeless and devastated, and reluctantly agreeing that she was right.

I remember those moments, holding you and petting you. I remember your kisses on my hands, me kissing your sweet pink nose those last times. The doctor taking you away to get prepped. Kissing you. Petting you. The shot, and your painless passing. Staying with you for those last moments, carressing your fur, your precious ears. Saying good-bye.

I'll never forget you, my sweet little girl. I am so sorry that we couldn't find a way to keep you with us; that we couldn't find some way to make your pain go away and make you whole and healthy once more. I would have given anything to change it, to bring you home with me.

I'm sorry, my sweet kitty.

But I remember. I remember all of it.

I remember you. Always.

I remember you - the middle years

Note: If you are not a cat person, you may want to just skip over this post.

Related posts: I remember you - the early years

I remember packing you up and moving home. Your first experience in such a large environment. How you weren't sure what stairs were about, and you had to learn to climb them. You picked up on going down the stairs faster than going up.

I remember you and your best friend, the dominant cat, napping in wicker baskets that sat on top of the basement fridge where it was nice and warm. Yours was a little round basket with a handle, and it was lined with a golden sheer curtain instead of a pillow. And you loved to sleep in it. I remember having to fetch your soft rabbit fur mouse out from under that fridge on more than one occasion, because it always ended up there and you always missed your makeshift teddy bear.

I remember taking pictures of you at Christmastime, sitting on the fireplace hearth next to the bright red pointsettia flowers, and how beautiful you looked there. Your pink velour collar that perfectly matched your pretty pink nose. And the little white bell that jingled softly when you moved.

I remember how you loved to cuddle on top of me, under a blanket, whenever I would sit in the big grey recliner chair in front of the TV. How you would fall asleep, and people wouldn't notice that you were under there, and how your soft grey fur blended into the fabric of the chair. How you would meow in that raspy, annoyed little voice of yours whenever you were disturbed. You loved warmth, and would always gravitate to the warmest spot of the house. If I wasn't there to cuddle with, you could usually be found sleeping in a sunbeam or lying on top of a heat register.

I remember how scared you were of my sister's dog. How you would hide in the basement when the dog would be over. And I remember coming home of an evening and finding the dog locked in her kennel, and you sitting on top of the kennel, taunting her through the bars. You were never so brave as when there were no actual threats to your safety.

I remember how much you hated to have your nails trimmed, and how scared you were of strangers and loud noises, like the vacuum cleaner. I remember that day when I was at work and my parents got their carpets cleaned, and how you scratched my dad's arm when he tried to lock you in the laundry room so you wouldn't get out. And then, once he let you out and you were all stressed out from the noise and strangers who had just left, he tried to trim your nails, and you bit him. I remember coming home from work to find my dad's hand and arm all bandaged up, the stitches in his hand, and the antibiotic IV that was running. Dad never let you forget it, but I always stood up for you and told him he brought it on himself. And I stand by it, even now.

I remember moving you again, to another apartment building. And I remember you shyly peering around the corner of the hallway whenever someone new came in, and then hiding away until you felt comfortable with the new person. How you would sit in the window, shielded by the curtains, and meow in obvious annoyance whenever the curtains would be pulled back. And I remember H doing that so often that you decided to stop meowing at him, just so that he would stop.

I remember you and your buddy cat sleeping curled up together in a big foam kitty bed. How close the two of you were. How much you had grown to love one another. And how I had to keep you separate for feedings, much to your chagrin. I remember both of you piling into the bed with me, him curled up by my knees and you tangled up in my hair right behind my head. How you would just sort of adjust yourself to any new position I decided to take through the night, without missing a beat. How you barely even moved in your adjustments, insisting that I move around you so as not to disturb your sleep.

I remember the few occasions when you would play. You, hiding in the box fort you had found in my bedroom, batting at your buddy's tail as he walked by. I remember how he turned and stared you down, and you tried gamely to pretend that you hadn't done anything; that you had just been sitting there calmly cleaning your paw the whole time.

I remember how you slept in the grey chair in the living room during the day and waited for me to come home. I remember how you would knead my upper arm when you wanted to sleep curled up in my armpit, eventually forcing me to move my arm from the pain. And how quickly you would then dart into position, cuddled up against me, for naptime. The first time you did that kneading motion to H, and how frustrated you got that he didn't move his arm quickly enough.

I remember when we lost your buddy. How confused you seemed when I returned from the emergency vet without him. How lonely you appeared for those next few days, until we got you a new friend. And I remember how vehemently you hated that new friend. How you resented his presence in your apartment. How possessive you became. How he was not permitted near your stuff. How you decided that your stuff consisted of two things: the grey chair, and me. I remember how you would chase him away whenever he came near either of those things. And how you grew to love him, despite yourself. I remember the first time I ever heard you purr; you were taught this trick by the new kitty in the house. You'd never known how to do it before.

I remember you going to the vet to get your ear tattoo and coming home all groggy from the anaesthetic. Your new friend, so protective of you. I remember how wobbly you were as you walked around, and the other kitty hopping around after you on three paws, using one front foot to try and steady you. And I remember how he lost his balance and pushed you over.

I remember how you became the courageous one. How we moved to a new apartment. How we weren't sure where you'd disappeared to and how we eventually found you hiding behind your litter box, the larger, newer cat hiding behind you, looking to you for protection. How you ventured out before him, and explored your new digs.

I remember when H came to stay, and you sat in the living room and cried mournfully through the night, sad that he had taken your place. And I remember having to go out to the living room and get you, and how you then realized that you could lie between us in the bed, and that was still okay with you. And though you never curled up in my hair again, I remember how you still slept close-by every chance you got.

I remember how you hated to have your feet touched. How it was the only thing that would get you to snap, and how you would move to bite anyone who came near them. Your feet were so cute, though, and visitors would invariably try to touch them. I remember you snapping at H's brother, and scaring H's nephew when you yawned and made a horribly scary face that showed all your teeth.

I remember the little things. You, perching atop the TV, looking for warmth. Or batting the newspaper out of my hand, demanding petting. You with a plate of cottage cheese. Stealing potato chips out of my hand as they would near my mouth. Taking french fries and holding them between your paws, eating them like little cobs of corn as you sat perched on your hind feet.

I remember all the cuddles. Your purrs, your meows, your kisses, your soft thick fur.

I remember. I remember all of it.

I remember you. Always.

I remember you - the early years

Note: If you are not a cat person, you may want to just skip over this post.

I remember the first time I saw you. So tiny and cute. Adorable little tabby stripes around your eyes, lemur rings around your long tail, your perfect little pink nose, the grey raccoon mask around your beautiful green eyes, not yet opened after your birth. Such a beautiful little girl, with your soft grey and white fur, your thick undercoat making you the softest little kitten I'd ever felt.

I remember driving home, with you sitting on the passenger seat. You were in a red and white cardboard cat carrier. You kept sticking your paws through every available space, and you quickly figured out how to open the top of the carrier. It was a wild drive, as I tried to keep you contained while we were in the car.

I remember bringing you inside. Introducing you to the other cat, the master of the house, who instinctively tried to force you out, and who would soon become your best friend.

I remember how you got lost in my little apartment. How you nearly disappeared in that tiny space under the stove. How you climbed in the hole at the bottom of my hideous old loveseat and hid there. I remember scouring the whole neighbourhood looking for you that one time, my family and friends all trying to find you, late at night, going through alleys and bushes in a rather rough area of town. And I remember returning home defeated, and finding you perched on top of that loveseat wondering what all the fuss was about.

I remember when you decided your litter box was too far from my bed, and you started doing your business on the floor. And I remember having to lock you in the bathroom at night, until you were old enough to be completely litter trained. I remember hearing you cry from inside the bathroom, and how my heart broke with each teeny meow. And I remember how your squeaky little baby meows sounded so much like you were saying "Mommy". And how you slowly outgrew that, and learned to meow properly.

I remember your feisty spirit. Swatting at you when you'd broken the glass in that one framed picture of my grandma. And I remember how you swatted back at me, defending yourself. How you tried to attack that little stray kitten that came into the apartment one night, and how I had to lock him away from you until morning for his own safety. Trying to teach you to walk on a leash and harness system. Your stubborn streak taking over, as you lay on the ground and allowed me to drag you about on your side, refusing to stand up and walk. I remember you sliding down the stairs, because there was no way you were going to walk down them. It just wasn't your style.

I remember all your kisses, the likely result of your being weaned too soon. How you would lick and lick at one spot with your little sandpapery tongue until the skin was all but worn away. How you loved to cuddle. How you'd make a nest for yourself out of my hair and sleep near the back of my neck through the night. How you'd sleep in the crook of my arm, nestled into my armpit, as I watched TV. And I remember how you originally preferred the arm of one of my friends to my own, and how we eventually got past that and bonded.

I remember being told that I was allergic to you. And I remember how I had to lock you out of my bedroom at night for awhile, until I had built up enough of a tolerance to have you with me once more. I remember you standing outside the door, meowing plaintively, begging to be let in. And I remember getting up, just to make sure you were still okay, and how quickly you bolted into the room to be with me.

I remember when you got out. Me, running through the building. Finding you in the basement, lying pressed tight against the bottom step, scared out of your mind, hissing at me as I tried to pick you up. And I remember how you'd get scared when strangers came over, and how you would hide under the bed.

I remember how your legs at one time looked so very long; much too long for your tiny little frame, and how you wobbled when you walked, all disproportionate. I remember how you always looked sleepy, since you had those dark grey streaks of fur in the corners of your eyes, and how that little cowlick on the bridge of your nose made you even cuter.

I remember the first snowfall of your life. Taking you outside so that you could experience it. And I remember that you hated the cold wetness on your feet, and you wanted to be held. I remember holding you, and lifting a little bit of the snow up to your face so that you could see it. And I remember how you sniffed hard, and got the snow up your nose, and how it made you sneeze.

I remember Christmastime. You climbing up the inside of the Christmas tree. Your sweet, easygoing nature. How you didn't even bat an eye when I stuck that Christmas bow on top of your head. And I remember how your buddy, the older cat, came over and swatted it off on your behalf. I remember how reluctant you were to play with any human, preferring instead to just sleep or cuddle. And how you would insist on that closeness at every opportunity.

I remember. I remember all of it.

I remember you. Always.

But the damned cat came back

Fuel pump. Leg brace. Both wonderful things, but hardly interchangeable.

About the same price. But hardly interchangeable.

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You'll recall from my last post that I hurt my knee when I fell down the stairs. The cat was lying on the top step, and I tripped and fell. I am quite certain that she was trying to kill me.

What I had failed to mention in that last post was that she had earlier tried to kill H. Two hours before my fall, H had nearly tripped over her. She was sitting on that same blasted top step. H removed her. But apparently, she just wouldn't stay away.

Now, our poor old household has troubles of its own, beyond the little cat that pees throughout our home.

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We had to get the fuel pump in our car replaced last week. The car died at a 7-11. Expensive repair jobs suck. But it's just a car.

Damage to a person is a lot worse than damage to a car.

My leg is in fact broken. It's a tibial plateau fracture, which is right in the middle of the knee joint. And it required surgery to fix. Two screws are permanently holding my knee joint together. The break caused disruption of blood flow to the cartilage, complicating the injury. I will likely require knee replacement surgery in fifteen to twenty years. The doctors say that the knee will never be the same. It will be stiff and develop arthritis. For the moment, there is no range of motion. In other words, it doesn't bend. Plus, it hurts like the devil!!

It required a special type of brace. And I couldn't be released from hospital until I'd passed physio, by demonstrating that I could crutch-walk up the stairs. I couldn't do that until I'd gotten the brace. The brace allows 50% weight on the left. But without it, I'm not permitted to weight-bear on the left at all.

The brace came in today, and I finally got to come home. I've been in hospital since last Friday, so it's been nearly a full week now. Scans, surgery, medication, and physio. In another five weeks, I'll be re-assessed, and we'll see how much more physio I need. Range of motion will likely continue to be a concern, and hopefully physio will be able to improve this significantly.

I'm exhausted. The medication is tiring, as are the crutches. Can't care for the kids, so we're trying to find a solution to that problem. Our stairs are too steep for me to manage with crutches, so we have to adapt to me living exclulsively on the main floor until I can weight-bear again. And some of the medication passes in breast milk, so I have to time N's feedings around my dosing schedule. The doctors indicate that the medication isn't dangerous to N, but it will make him rather sleepy. But I still prefer not to give my baby narcotics. It's just my preference as a mother, I suppose. Anyway, this is all somewhat problematic.

On a bright note, the crutches provide quite the intense workout.

The first time ever I clawed your face

So, I figure we're going to have to put the cat down. We think she's in some pain now, and this may be in her best interests. Besides, with two young children, having a cat who incessantly pees outside of the litter box just seems ill-advised. We're looking into it.

I love this cat very much. Despite the fact that she is perhaps the bitchiest animal in history. She has been with me for 17 years. She has sought attention. Blatantly deceived me into allowing her to sleep in my bed, despite my allergies and asthma. She has had pouty fits, if you can believe that of an animal, but I swear it's true. She has a snarly, scratchy, angsty sounding meow. She is completely anti-social. And she never purrs. She has at times escaped the house and ran down the street, trying to attack other larger more fierce cats, who were actually terrified of her. She weighs about 5 pounds. But she is a terror. A force to be reckoned with, indeed.

At times, she has been hospitalized at the vet. They bear the scars. There are notes in her file - a record of her past bad behaviour. "VERY grumpy today!!!", for example. (Note: "VERY" was actually underlined three times!) And when small children came in and asked to pet the little kitty, they were tactlessly deflected from putting their little fingers anywhere near her kennel for fear that they may lose digits. At her annual check-ups, we and the vet have been able to see the wheels turning ... she is trying to figure out the best way to kill her doctor. She always looks totally pissed off and defiant, and she clearly thinks she could take him if she really wanted to. I know he feels it, too. He made a note about it in the file.

But she has been like a child to me. Despite her many moods. She is quite sweet to us, as long as there are no pills or needles involved. She loves to cuddle. And she gives us lots of kisses. Aside from the whole peeing thing, she's been great with the kids, too, and has never so much as hissed at J, who loves to torment her with too much loving.

It's a hard decision, and one that we have been struggling with for some time.

I called the vet today to find out about appointments and prices. It's damn near $200!! Nearly $100 to euthenize her, and about $90 more for cremation. And this ain't no fancy-shmancy cremation either. No coffin. No urn of ashes received by the family to ceremoniously sprinkle over her favourite spot. No kitty memorial service with a heartfelt eulogy. No, no. None of that. They just stuff your dearly departed in a pet furnace and light 'er up.

I told all of this to H. Who wanted to know how much it would be for the snazzier cremation, where you do get the urn of ashes.

T: I don't know. I didn't ask.
H: No?
T: I didn't think we needed it.
H: Oh ...
T: I'm not going to keep the ashes. It's morbid.
H: Well, yeah.
T: And I wouldn't know where to sprinkle them. She's a housecat, for crying out loud!
H: True.
T: I mean, her favourite spot is on our bed! But I ain't sprinkling no ashes there.
H: Well, no! Ok. So we don't need the ashes then.
T: No. I don't think so. I wouldn't know what to do with them.
H: You know what she'd want us to do with them, don't you?
T: Yes! Sprinkle them on our bed!
H: No. She'd want us to throw them forcefully back in the vet's face.

I laughed so hard tears came. I laughed because he's right. She's that crotchety senior who hates everyone. Especially her vet. And if cats could make wills, I swear that would be in hers.

I picture the vet, a look of complete shock on his face, as he stands there covered with the ashes of 5-pound dead kitty remains. And I picture H & I, standing solemnly before him, empty urn in hand. "That's the way she would have wanted it", H would say.

And then we'd probably be charged with assault, and our other cat would be permanently banned from the office, and ...

So yeah. The "bargain" $90 cremation thingy it will be, I figure. If we can manage to get it together enough to do this in the first place.

As an aside, this is one of the many reasons why I love H so much. I love him because he can always make me laugh. Even at those incredibly low times, when nothing else can make me smile. I can always rely on him. And for that, I am incredibly grateful.

Sonic youthful exuberance

Today, I am attempting the impossible, going where no man has gone before, and hitching my wagon to that proverbial star. In other words, I am trying to painstakingly and systematically clean every last inch of my house in a brazen effort to finally figure out why everything smells of cat pee.

Ah, the happy times to come. Times when I shall walk through my front door and be greeted by the pleasant scent of Lemon Pledge. Or perhaps Swiffer solution. Windex. Really, just something generally clean and fresh smelling instead of, as has too often been the case of late, the unmistakable smell of lime air freshener vainly attempting to cover over the horrible stench of cat urine coming from God only knows where.

The offending cat is 17 years old now. I think that's somewhere around 189 in cat years. So she is decidedly a senior cat. And she has had kidney failure for the past eight years. She has been maintained with a special diet, a hefty regimen of pills, and rehydrating fluid injections when required. Giving her pills is not a great deal of fun. We have been hissed at, scratched, and have nearly lost digits in the effort. You wouldn't think such a tiny cat could possibly be so feisty, but she just is. Crabby old thing! She makes senior abuse sound like really just a fabulous idea.

Anyway ...

Of late, her regimen is not working as well as it has in the past. She is regularly dehydrated. She is moving slower. She doesn't eat enough, and is losing weight. And she was already really tiny, so doesn't have a lot of wiggle room on that one. When she first got sick, we had to force-feed her to get enough food into her to keep her going. But once she turned the corner, she stopped needing that, and it has been years since we have had to wrap her up in a towel and sit beside her on the bathroom floor, H prying her mouth open and me putting my finger into the viciously stinky, sabre-toothed chasm and sticking wet protein-reduced catfood to the roof of her mouth.

Clearly, we love our cat and have been quite devoted to her through the years. We had thought about putting her down when she appeared to be suffering. But she pulled through, and has been quite comfortable for most of her eight-year illness.

But now, she has a slow, pained gait. She is reluctant to climb stairs. She vomits several times a day - sometimes on our bed, which I must confess that I do not appreciate. And she pees outside of the litter box. I thought it was only in the front entranceway, but after having swept, washed, scrubbed, and all but deep fried the entire front entranceway in a mixture of savoury herbs and seasonings, the house still reeks of cat pee. And I have thus far been unable to locate the offending source.

So today, with a 3-year old on one side and a 3-month old on the other, I search, cleaning as I go, attempting to find out where that blasted cat is peeing. If only I were Toucan Sam, I could just follow my nose. But sadly, I am only human, and the smell permeates everything and cannot be located.

And so I have not yet found today's source. And I wonder if I am going quite mad, and imagining that I smell cat urine everywhere. Seriously. H can never smell it. So maybe it's all in my mind. Maybe I'm about to have a stroke or something, and this is the warning sign. Or maybe it's just a special gift of mine - superhuman sense of smell - because H generally smells it once I have located a spot and have begun to move the furniture so that I can clean it. But that can't be it. Because with superhuman sense of smell, I would be able to just follow the smell to the appropriate spot, where it is at its strongest. To follow my nose, if you will. Like Toucan Sam. And I would then know where she was peeing. Oh, the cleanliness I could unleash upon my house if only I had the powers of the Toucan.

Anyway ...

I decided to clean the toilet. Please don't misunderstand. It's not that I'm insane. And I do not believe that the cat is peeing in the toilet. (But wouldn't it be great if she would?) It's just that, in my wanderings of looking for the source of offending odour, I encountered a bathroom. And since I was methodically cleaning everything in my path, it only made sense to continue. So the toilet needed to be cleaned, polished, and made all nice and lemon-fresh.

Now, throughout my chores, and throughout this post, I have been met with frequent interruptions. Interruptions such as: "I want Cars!"; "I don't want Cars - I want ... this one!" "No, not that one ... I want - Shrek!"; "I think there's pee in me"; "I don't want to go pee-pee"; "They're up like Grandpa-pants - I don't want that"; "I wanna watch Enchanted!"; "No! Not that, not that, not that!!"; and, my personal favourite, "The Bugs Bunny & Tweety Show freaks me out". But nothing could have prepared me for what was about to come.

Anyway ...

Proudly brandishing the toilet brush, I marched toward the offending bowl to do battle. And that is when it happened. That is when I heard it. The sound of utmost youthful exuberance, which will most certainly not last into his teen years. (But wouldn't it be great if it would?)

J: What's that? Is that a toilet brush? I want that! I want that thing!! I WANT TO CLEAN THE TOILET!!!

I said no. I tried desperately to keep the toilet brush away from J. I told J that the toilet bowl and toilet brush were both icky, germy things, and that I didn't want him to touch them. I sat him down and talked logically and rationally.

J: I WANT TO CLEAN THE TOILET!! I WANT TO CLEAN THE TOILET!! GIVE IT TO ME!! LET ME CLEAN THE TOILET!! WAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!

I thought his head would explode as he lay on the floor, kicking and screaming, having an out-and-out tantrum, demanding, sobbing, and pleading for the toilet brush by turn. Seriously? I'd love it if he would clean the toilets for me all the time. But I think that borders on child abuse.

Anyway ...

The toilet is now clean. Wonderfully shiny and polished. I cleaned it. J did not. I am no nearer to finding the source of the cat pee smell. And J is on to a new tantrum. He wants a drink of water. And he wants to drink it out of one of N's baby bottles. A specific baby bottle. Which he has misplaced. And which I am to find. Immediately. And if I don't, he will move his rocking chair into the kitchen and climb on top of it to look over the counter at his dinosaur eggs in their make-shift aquarium - but that's a topic for another time - and probably fall off and crack his head open. And what one of these things has to do with the other, I can't possibly understand. Because it's 3-year old logic, and I am ... well ... not 3.

Must go save child from cracking head open. Must find misplaced baby bottle for 3-year old. And must continue in search of offending cat pee stench.

It's going to be a fabulous day.

Who says chickens can't fly?

We have a baby gate between the kitchen and living/dining room. We have to climb over the baby gate to go between the rooms. The kitchen is quite baby friendly, but it has a lot of angles to it. We still prefer that J hang out in the living room with his toys rather than in the kitchen. We can keep a better eye on him in the living room and, since he's starting to climb, it just works better that way.

We had KFC for dinner tonight. I was coming out of the kitchen with a big plate of chicken. I attempted my usual maneuver to climb over the baby gate into the living/dining room. But it didn't go as planned. There was a cat on the other side of the fence, and I stepped on her head. As I tried to move my foot, the cat tried to move her head, and ...

And that's when I lost my balance.

The result was massive carnage, as deep fried bits of chicken flew off the plate, piece by piece, landing in various spots in the living/dining room whilst I attempted to stop my fall. Unsuccessfully.

Eventually, I crashed into the side of the door leading to the basement, the chairs that are upended to prevent J from entering the little landing to the basement, and the aforementioned baby gate. It hurt. A lot.

And as I crashed, I watched helplessly as the rest of the chicken flew off the plate. Piece by piece.

Now, through all of this, H was standing in the living room, not two feet away from me. And what, might you ask, did he do? Did he try to stop my fall? Did he help me up? Or did he just stand there, doubled-over in hysterics, laughing 'til the tears ran, like a jackass? Hmm. Let's see if I can remember. While I kick him.

Now, I am bruised and appear to have several pulled muscles in my torso. But as long as I can amuse my husband, isn't that what really matters?

Yah. I hope you enjoy your floor-chicken, buddy-boy.

**********

On another note, I received a very cool letter in the mail today:

"On behalf of the [Association's] Alberta Research and Education Fund, I congratulate you on being named the recipient of the Level 2 Tuition Scholarship. This $750 award recognizes the highest average for the 2005/2006 academic year."

The letter goes on to invite H and I to a very nice luncheon at a fancy-schmancy restaurant for the awards ceremony. A cool letter! $750! Lunch! Much wootness!

I hope they don't serve chicken.

She pooped on the carpet

I don't know what to do. A cat that pees and poops on the carpet can't live in a house with a baby. But we've kept her with us through kidney failure, and she's doing so well on a health-related basis. And the vet says there's nothing medically wrong with her that's causing this, so we can't treat her and try to fix it.

Her box is clean. She should be using it.

I don't know why she's refusing to use her litter box. But we're starting to run out of options now, and it makes me sad. I don't want to do what I suspect we may have to do. But I don't know what else to do.

I love her.

Various J stuff

When crawling, J will periodically stop for a rest. He'll lay his head down on the floor. We are expected to put our head down next to his. Then he laughs.

Not that J crawls a great deal these days. He can take about 8 steps at a time now. He's enjoying his newfound skill. Soon, there will be no stopping him. But in our living room, as soon as he heads for the stairs, he invariably trips over the front paw of his big stuffed lion and down he goes. Then he's easier to catch, as he crawls toward the stairs.

We have a baby gate now. I think we'll need to pick up a second one, though, to keep J out of the kitchen area. He does dearly love to explore.

J now has 8 teeth. I went to brush them this morning, and was dismayed to discover that the cats had stolen J's toothbrush some time during the night. Apparently, it makes a lovely cat toy. We will pick up a new toothbrush for J today, and will make sure it is locked up tight.

J has a new toy. It's a MegaBlocks Robot that we picked up for $3.50 from Once Upon a Child. It's cool! It lights up. And when you push down on it, it winds up and then rolls across the floor really fast. He loves it. According to J, the best feature is that the arms come off and the hand parts can easily be put into his mouth for easy arm carrying.

J has developed a sign for "milk". He smacks his lips together repeatedly, and that means he wants his milk now. It's really cute!

In other news, my garden is growing nicely. I only lost a couple of plants through the winter. They will be easily replaced, so not a big deal. Sadly, my big clump of delphiniums has been overtaken by worms for the second year in a row. Last year, I got to it early and managed to kill them. But this year, they seem to have won. We'll rip the plant out and replace it with a non-infested plant. If we get a chance to go the greenhouse today, we will. I don't know though. H is still not feeling very well, and I've got studying to do. Five more sections in Module 10, plus 2 computer illustrations to work through, and then I can start studying for the dreaded exam on June 8. Eek! That's coming up way too quick.

On a positive note, J is feeling a bit better now, though he's still not quite himself just yet. But he's eating again. Not much, but every little bit helps. It's all good. Hopefully, he'll be all back to normal very soon. And hopefully, I can continue to fight off this nasty bug that's overtaken my family.

That's about it for us. I hope everyone has a lovely day!

Dear Sirs

Dear J:

I love you, and I understand that you are sick. I am sorry about that. However, I must protest your latest antics.

Warning: May be TMI for some.

I am sorry that you have diarrhea. I wish you did not. But when you have pooped and overflowed your diaper, would you please not try to put your feet in it? And also, while Mommy is trying to change you and keep your feet poop-free, perhaps you could refrain from reaching down and sticking your hand in it. And then grabbing my arm, thereby getting poop on my shirt. And then trying to stick your poop-laden hand in your mouth, forcing Mommy to let go of your feet to save you from ingesting it. And then kicking your feet frantically, spraying the poop all about in the process.

I will try to get your white sleeper clean, because it is cute and Daddy loves how the collar makes you look like Elvis. But I would appreciate it if you wouldn't do your very best to ruin and stain it first.

Love,

Mommy

*****************

Dear H:

One more time, for posterity. The empty toilet paper roll does not stay on the dispenser. It gets removed and thrown in the garbage. The new roll does not go on the counter. It goes on the now-empty dispenser. I can leave an instruction sheet in all of the bathrooms, if you wish.

Love,

T

(Note: To be fair, H is actually far better at housework than am I. This is just my own little pet peeve.)

*****************

Dear Cat:

When J is snuggling in my arms and you leap into my lap, you should not be surprised when J grabs your fur and pulls, or tries to pet it in the wrong direction, or anything else. He is a baby, and he does not know any better. I will try to protect you as best I can, but you are best to just avoid putting yourself in the situation. I can accept your being grumpy, and I love you very much, but if you ever react harshly to the baby, I will give you away. And if you spark my computer one more time, as appears to be your preferred means of retaliation, I will no longer permit you to sit in the office.

Love,

Your Human

*****************

Dear Tutors:

Please refrain from answering questions from students' quizzes prior to the quiz due dates. It is most inappropriate to essentially do a student's homework for him or her. Besides, it is not the job of the course tutor to spoon-feed the students.

Yours truly,

Student

*****************

Dear Blogger:

Please respond to my email. It's been days, and I feel this situation should have been remedied by now.

Sincerely,

Cryptic

J Discovered "Cat" This Morning

J had a rough night. He woke up before 5 a.m. and would not go back to sleep. We tried everything we could think of, but finally I just left the room with J so that H could still try and get some sleep.

H didn't have to work until later this morning, so we traded off once he was up. H took J out of the room, and I got a bit more sleep. I hope I will be able to get some more studying done today. I really, really have to.

Once H and I were both up and around, I was holding J, laying him across my lap, and just getting ready to feed him. H grabbed Jazzy-cat and held her above J, saying "Cat". J reached up and grabbed Jazz's paw. It was so cute! At least until he seemed to be trying to pull on the paw. We made him release it.

On that note, J's grip is improving steadily. He can remove a pair of glasses from a person's face now and just hold them for quite some time. I don't know how long he can continue to hold them, as I am blind without them and have to make him return them quickly.

I am now trying to tucker J out for naptime so that I can get some studying done. I can't study while he's awake, even if he's happy. He's a bundle of energy and must be watched. He is currently in his jolly jumper, and he loves it. He has bounced away, spun around, and even swung back and forth. Mostly though, he is just taste-testing the strap at the moment. He appears to be done bouncing for the time being. Perhaps he is nap-ready?

We shall see.

Much to tell and many pictures to share

Edited Sept 6/05 @ 2:36 p.m. If you are not viewing this post for the first time, please see the new picture of J swinging.

Let's see...

Yesterday, we were awaiting my friend, HD's, arrival at our place for a brief visit. She was just in town for a few days. I miss her! But I did get to spend some time with her over the past few days, and I guess it will have to tide me over for awhile. It is very hard to see friends that live so far away. At least we can keep in fairly close contact via phone and email. I am thankful that we live in an electronic age.

While we were waiting for HD to come by, H decided to play with J. They quite enjoy playing "Flying Baby" together. Here are a couple of pics of the two of them and their fun game.




So HD came by yesterday evening, along with J's Memaw and her hubby. We had a very nice visit with them. Memaw brought J a big stuffed lion! J is far too small to have a full appreciation of it just now, but he will sure love it when he gets bigger. Last night, Jiver-cat decided that "this place wasn't big enough for the both of them", so he attacked the lion in an effort to show it who was boss. He knocked it over, and stood over his prey, victorious. We put the lion away for safekeeping after that. We are determined that it is not to be a cat toy!

We made it to theatre mommy's birthday party later in the evening. Didn't stay very long, as we were quite tired and had just a dreadfully long day. But we were pleased that we had managed to make it at all, really. It was good.

Once we got home and ready for bed, we actually managed to get a very good sleep. We are pleased to report that J has really taken to his crib. It is still in our room with us, but he quite enjoys hanging out in it now. He plays with his toys and then falls asleep on his own. And when he wakes up in the morning, he amuses himself with his toys for awhile before demanding that we tend to his needs. Here is a picture of J sleeping in his crib (on his side, of course; he was trying to roll over at the time). Isn't he sweet?


Today, I met up with theatre mommy, va1kyrie and M (who needs a web presence) for a "Mom's Day Out". It was H's first time alone, looking after J. I can't believe our little man is nearly 5 months old and I have only been apart from him one time before today! H and I both did very well in our respective roles, and I had a lot of fun out with the girls. I was very glad that we were able to go, and that H was so capable with J. He refused to nap, but he wasn't particularly fussy for H. This is good, as it means H may be willing to look after him again in the future so that I can have further baby-free outings with friends. I miss the baby when I am away from him, but it is important for my sanity that I be periodically reminded that I am a person separate and apart from J.

Before I left the house this morning, an old friend stopped by with some hand-me-down items for J. He got quite the haul! Among the items we received is a "Little Tikes" toybox, shaped like a football. It is just about the cutest thing ever (even though ours is missing the laces; I'm sure that piece was quite easily broken). H and I were both really taken with it. J also received his first pair of ice skates (the ones that attach to the bottom of a young child's shoes). Maybe he'll be able to wear them next winter; he'll certainly be far too young this winter, and won't even be walking yet.

After my friend left, H and I decided to try putting J in his swing for awhile. He has now taken to his swing, and has quite a bit of fun in it, though he still doesn't use it for sleeping. Here is J just swingin' away!


Thanks again, Paul, for the cool .gif file.

Anyhow, after I got back from my day away, H and I headed out to pick up an exersaucer for J that we managed to score off of Freecycle. What a great resource that group is! So here is a picture of J's new exersaucer.


Yes, the cat has claimed it. But not for long!

(I'm not going to post a link in "Photos" to the cat-in-the-exersaucer picture, as I think people are mostly interested in seeing shots of the baby. If anyone disagrees, leave me a comment and I'll link the photo.)

Once we got back home, we sat down with J to feed, snuggle, play with, etc. J was quite snuggly tonight. He got quite upset when he threw-up (out his nose), which we were all less than impressed with. And he became quite pleased when he rolled over again, which we were all most impressed with. H and I both saw it this time. It took him several attempts, and finally he pretty much flung himself over (he kind of takes a running start, as it were, moving most of the way to the left and then throwing himself sharply to the right to flip over onto his tummy) but the technique worked for him and he got flipped over eventually. I was so happy that I saw it this time!

Now, I do have a few more pictures to post at some point, but it is totally bed time now. Besides, this post is really quite long already! I'll try to get the other pics up tomorrow some time.

Cheers.

Really Funny in a Really Bad Way

Catfood.

Ewwww, yuck!

We Have a Duck (and Other Tidbits)

Around 4:00 today, J had his diaper changed. It was, apparently, quite a harrowing experience for him. He screamed so loudly while H was changing him, that I could hear him all the way into our basement! (I was getting the clean diapers out of the dryer at the time.)

When I came back upstairs, J was still screaming. I started putting my finger over his mouth and pulling it away repeatedly. With the slight interruptions to his intensity of scream, he sounded exactly like Donald Duck on a rampage! It was so funny, H and I both split our sides laughing.

God, I love my little boy!

On another note, earlier today, H decided to mow the lawn. He had his big work gloves out, and was using them to torment the cat. Jivercat was, as usual, lying across one of the bar stools in the kitchen. When H started batting the work glove in Jive's direction, the cat started batting back and playing. He got so excited, he slipped between the two bar stools and started falling, head first. H had to grab him as he was falling to save him. It was so cute and funny, watching our kitty fall off his chair that way. (Crazy cat!)

It was a good day for us. We had a nice visit with maple mom2 and her daughter. We hadn't seen them in a long time, and I was so happy they were able to come by while they were in town. H picked up skirting for our deck, so that should be getting done in the near future. I got some housework done, which was good; I've fallen sorely behind of late. Yes indeed; we were quite productive today. J had a good day too; he had some good naps and some good playtime also. He sure loves to kick his feet and imitate sounds now. I hope he will sleep well tonight.

My life is good. So very good.

The Evasive Sleep

Can't sleep. Should sleep. Can't sleep.

H snores peacefully. J kicks and squirms, fighting sleep, though his beautiful little eyes are closing, closing, closing. Downstairs, the dryer works on a load of diapers. I can't hear it from up here, but I know it is working. Faith is a beautiful thing.

Cat insists I pet her, since I'm up anyway. She is slightly dehydrated; I must pick up a fluid bag tomorrow (today, I suppose) so she'll be sure to remain hydrated through the long weekend ahead. Five years since she got sick, and she's still with us. But vet bills are astronomical on a long weekend, so must take precautions.

So tired. So very tired. Can't sleep.

I should throw out my computer; I waste more time here...

Miscellaneous Weirdness

Tonight, I came home from work. I brought groceries; among them was a pizza. I put the groceries in the kitchen and came out to the living room to say hi to the baby. When I returned to the kitchen, I found the cat on the counter, standing squarely in the middle of that pizza. (Thankfully it was wrapped in cellophane and there were no claw punctures in it.)

We went for a drive after dinner, to try to make the grumpy baby a bit happier. On the way home, we passed a sign which read "Schizophrenia Walk & Run". (Sorry. It was in an awkward location, so no picture.)

Does anyone else see the irony in the wording of this sign?

Stupid Cat

H left the door to the bedroom open for a few minutes this morning. It was early; we were both still in bed; J was freshly changed and fed, and I'd just swaddled him and put him back in his bassinet. He was gurgling, cooing and playing with his hands. We usually keep the cats locked out of the room so they stay well away from J; we don't really trust them around him just yet. But since we were both awake and watching, H thought it would be safe.

WRONG!

Jive jumped directly into the bassinet, landing right on J. Dumb cat was quickly removed from the room. J is just fine. (The cat weighs more than the baby, and I was less than impressed.)

Cat Antics

I went downstairs to get a glass of milk for myself and T before going to bed when the first thing I saw was Jivercat sitting on the arm of the couch.

The table lamp beside him was the only light in the room and half of his face was lit up. The rest of him was in darkness. I think he was trying to tell me a ghost story.

I could just see him thinking "It was a dark and stormy night..."