Repurposing Furniture, Cat Style

"Battle Stations!  Robins at 2 o'clock!"

 
Funny, I thought this was going to be a nice new (old) cabinet for me to house my Pfaff 130.  Silly me, I obviously didn't consider what its fully-open configuration was going to mean for the lords and masters of the house.  There will be no more sharing that one, puny kitty shelf for them, thankyouverymuchindeed.

Le Sigh.

You'll notice that Little Grey Kitty and Big Yellow Hallway Monster are together in this photo, taken mere minutes ago.  They have been re-introduced and are getting along just swimmingly.  So far their playdates are all upstairs, since LGK and Electric Mayhem still hate each other.  We may try reintroducing them later this year, after my busy season at work is over with and one of the humans is home with them more.  Or, we may not.  EM is getting older and less tolerant of such nonsense as other kitties in her territory.

In other news, unrelated to cats or sewing - Happy Anniversary to My Amazing Husbandini!!!  You have always been and will always remain my little booboocitos!

I'm Only Posting Because My Mother Told Me To

Well, that's not strictly true. I've been debating for several months whether to get back to the blog or just let it go. For the time being, I've decided to post a little here and there to get the feel of it back, and then see how it goes. My other blog will be going away soon, since the project it was designed to chronicle has fizzled out. (We now have one upstairs-only cat and two downstairs-only cats, and it's going to stay that way until someone else crosses the Rainbow Bridge.)

For those of you who come to read about kitties, there will still be cat content to be had. However, my intent is to shift the focus to other areas and not be just a cat blogger. (Not that there's anything at all wrong with that, heaven knows.) "KittyChair" is not just the title of this blog, but has been a term in our lives for a lot of years, and it's always been closely tied to Hubbard. Now that he's gone, the kitty chair is empty. The desire to be as cat-centric a blogger as before has faded.

That being said, we still have three lovely cat-beasties who run our lives for us. There will surely be stories to tell (like the one about the oh-so-attractive gashes across my face) and photos to post of our furry children. But at the moment I find myself more interested in discussing horticulture and sewing and home canning and exercise and various and sundry other topics.

So ... I have returned, but for now I'm still sorting through this and that and trying to figure out what to tackle first. More as things progress.

10 Feet Tall and Bulletproof ... He Ain't

Have you talked to your kitties about the dangers of 'nip?

Little Grey Kitty decided that since his humans were too busy to attend to his recreational herbage needs this morning, he was going to help himself to the catnip bag. Which would have been fine, except that someone (me) had left the bag on top of a rather unstable CD rack. Down came the bag, along with the rack and about 100 or so CDs. That particular noise got me back up the stairs in a hurry!

Since I was the one who had put the rack there in the first place, and had then made matters worse by leaving the catnip on top of it, it was pretty hard to blame LGK. Especially when he was having a lovely time rolling in the spilled nip and leaping about over his fallen prey. So I decided to leave things as they were while I finished up what I was doing, and headed back downstairs.

You know how people can be classified as a certain kind of drunk? Happy, mean, affectionate, etc.? Well, the same thing applies to nipped-up kitties. And Mr. LGK is a fearless drunk. He can go anywhere and do anything. He can waltz right in to the bedroom where Big Acoustic Kitty lives like he owns the place, he can give all the neighborhood critters a verbal what for, and he can chase Electric Mayhem off from his territory. (Now, this happens with EM at the bottom of the stairs on one side of the screen door and LGK at the top of the stairs on the other, but hey, he knows he's showing her who's boss.)

Cut to about 20-30 minutes later. I'm downstairs in the kitchen and The Amazing Husbandini come in to rustle up some cold medicine. (We're trading a nasty spring cold back and forth between us.) He goes back upstairs, opens the screen door and suddenly I hear, "Escape! Escape! We have an escape!" Mr. LGK had decided that he was not going to be cooped up anymore and was going to invade the downstairs. Mr. Full-of-Himself did real well ... until he hit the other side of the screen door and realized he was actually out.

See ... out means that Big Yellow Hallway Monster (all 20+ pounds of him) comes running over to say hi. And it means that Electric Mayhem realizes that LGK is now in her territory, and gets hissy and growly as only she can. And her hissy fits do not involve backing down from a face-to-face confrontation. And it also means that to escape these things, LGK would have to turn his back on the other cats and try to run back upstairs to safety. And the door is now open! They might follow him into his sanctum sanctorum! Uh-oh. Suddenly the 'nip haze cleared, and panic set in.

As an aside, should I be concerned that my very first instinct was to whip off my shirt? After our last escape, I wanted to make sure that I had some way to cover and wrap a cat should things get hostile, and my sweatshirt seemed to be good for that. So, I'm running through the house in jeans and a bra, trying to chase down the low-slung, puffy grey blur who is careening through the downstairs in a panic and keeping an eye out that EM and BYHM don't get into it as a side benefit.

To sum up, LGK made it back up the stairs to safety while EM and BYHM were bribed with many kitty treats to forget the whole incident ever happened. After much cuddling and tummy-rubbing, LGK calmed down enough to crash in a sunbeam, where he is currently sleeping off his 'nip binge.

Please, talk to your cats about catnip. A 'nip high is not worth having to take an ass-kicking from your sister.

Dammit, Cat!

I'll skip the backstory and cut right to the chase:

This afternoon, The Amazing Husbandini and I found ourselves hurtling down the interstate to the vet's office, with Big Acoustic Kitty drifting in and out of consciousness in the carrier in the back.

Not many minutes earlier, we'd heard odd noises coming from the bedroom and found BAK stretched out on the floor next to his food dish in a limp, drooly, twitchy pile. After a few minutes, he did manage to rouse himself, but then his back end just refused to respond when he tried to stand up. And it was painfully obvious to us that he just wasn't "there". We managed to get through to our vet and they told us to bring him over right away.

We got to the vet and they took him right in to the exam area and did a quick check on his blood sugar ... turned out it was 130, which is a totally fine result, considering his diabetes. So, his current difficulty was not caused by an insulin reaction. Good news there, but what did it mean? We were thinking maybe heart trouble, maybe stroke ... but something horrible, obviously.

The vet and a tech came back in to the room where we were waiting and put BAK down on the floor where he proceeded to stagger around ... his movements were better than they had been, but still very much nothing like normal. The vet then starts telling us that maybe the quarter-tablets of BAK's new medication might be a bit much, and it looks like an eighth-tablet might be better.

Brief backstory - this was our second trip to the vet with BAK in two days. Yesterday was a fairly routine checkup to see how he was doing and to see if there was anything more that could be done for his arthritis. They sent us home with some glucosamine/chondroitin treats and a narcotic that would supposedly help with his joint pain. It might be "mildly sedating" for the first few days, they warned us.

I looked at Amazing Husbandini and he looked at me. Then we looked at the vet as what she was telling us sank in:

Big Acoustic Kitty wasn't sick - he was stoned!

After some sub-cutaneous fluids to help wash the happy pill out of his system, and several jokes about him having a serious case of the munchies later, we packed him up and took him home, where he spent most of the rest of the afternoon zoning peacefully with his face smooshed up against the inside corner of his carrier. As of a few minutes ago, he was happily noshing on his evening fishy pudding and wandering around the bedroom as if nothing had happened.

We're hoping this hasn't ruined him for a good, old-fashioned catnip buzz.

Nose Update ...

... since I know that explosive, bloody sneezes are not the kind of thing you just mention once and then abandon forever.

Big Acoustic Kitty has decided that I am the most horrible person on the entire planet for making him take his nasty liver-flavored antibiotics twice a day for the better part of two weeks. He's back to rushing underneath the bed whenever I come in to the room. However, since he hasn't been given any antibiotics for several days, and I know for a fact that he's smart enough to figure out that we're done with the meds, he's now doing it just to be a poop. Apparently I haven't been punished enough yet.

The nose issue seems to have cleared up, though it took several days for the meds to do anything. And, while I learned that Nature's Miracle does wonders for blood stains on bedding, I also learned that if you spray the stain and then accidentally let it dry before laundering it, you're hosed. So - new sheets are on the shopping list.

The arthritis is acting up again, so we're planning another chiro/acupuncture session for post-tax refund days. Annnnnddd, the "hiding from the meds" act has been messing up BAK's insulin injections, which in turn makes the leg-wobbles even worse. Le Sigh.

In short, he's being a pain in the ass, but at least the outside-of-ordinary health issues seem to have been licked. So there you go.

From Noses to Needles

We've been having some problems the past couple of days.

"Snoorrrff?"

Big Acoustic Kitty has been taking his meals in his suite recently, after being startled a few too many times by Big Yellow Hallway Monster in the main floor dining area. When I took BAK's dinner up to him on Saturday, his nose was noticeably red. The light in the bedroom is fairly dim, so I leaned in to get a better look (as best I could, considering his enthusiastic slurping of his food) and saw that he had blood all over his nose.

*Insert kitty-mama conniption here.*

The Amazing Husbandini came running (as he does, when he hears me shriek) and managed to get a good look at BAK's nose and at the surrounding surfaces. While there was certainly some blood spatter, it wasn't in quantities too alarming (no CSI-type scenes) and the flow coming out of his nostril was quite faint and fairly dilute.

Returning to the computer and working his Google-fu, hubby-o-mine determined that - barring some horrible nose tumor suddenly come to life - it was probably a result of BAK smacking nose-first into something or a result of Colorado's notoriously dry winter air. So we set up one of our little humidifiers overnight, hoping that would help.

The next morning there were some more lovely blood spatters on the blankets (and the wall above my pillow - ew!) but since it was Sunday, our only options were to continue the watch & wait program, or haul him in to the emergency vet. We decided to wait some more, but we did call our vet and leave a voice mail on the off chance that somebody might check messages. By yesterday afternoon, the blood seemed to have disappeared and things were looking good.

This morning, the bloody sneezes were back, but there was much less blood and everything else seemed to be fine ... eating, drinking, peeing, pooping - all normal. The vet's office called back and we ventured out into the 8-degree snowy day to see them.

Our regular vet had the day off (for once!), so we saw the visiting vet instead. She checked BAK all over and then she and I chatted about possible causes and treatments - long story short, we decided to continue the wait & see, but she suspects some kind of bacterial infection. If it gets better on its own, great, but if not I can go back in and pick up some antibiotics. With BAK's age and health issues, as well as the meds he's already on, she suspects that a kitty bug that we had going around the house recently finally caught up to BAK and his somewhat compromised immune system is having trouble with it.

Anyway ... that's not really the point of the story.

In discussing some of BAK's current meds and how they are doing double-duty as arthritis medicine and pancreatitis treatment, the vet asked if we'd ever considered acupuncture or chiropractic for BAK. I refrained from laughing at her but did suggest that, considering how many people it usually takes to restrain BAK for any procedure (3, minimum), I wasn't sure how well he'd like that kind of thing.

She then showed me how his neck didn't really move the way it was supposed to - mostly up and down, with very little of that serpentine movement that most cats make. Then she asked if I would let her try to "loosen up" his neck a little bit. I decided if she wanted to risk her flesh, that was her business, so I told her to go right ahead. BAK was not happy about it, but he didn't kill her, and lo and behold - after a couple of minutes, his head was sliding around just the way it should. And he still hadn't killed her. (He did hiss and spit and growl and cuss, as usual, but no blood was drawn.)

Now, I have nothing against non-traditional medicine, I just don't have much experience with it. But, since we weren't going to be heading home with any expensive meds, and since the little free sample she'd given certainly hadn't seemed to hurt or upset BAK (any more than he was already upset about being at the vet) I decided to just go ahead and let her do her thing.

She had me scruff BAK so she had both hands free and proceeded to work her way down his spine ... and the funniest thing happened. The further she got down his back, the more his yelling went down the hostility scale:

Neck area: "Release me or I shall slay you!"

Upper back: "You're touching me! I don't like people touching me!"

Mid-back: "I don't know what's going on, but I don't hate it!"

Hips: "I'm not sure why I'm still complaining, but it's kind of a habit for me!"

Then, she whips out her box of accupuncture needles and proceeds to march them up his spine, between his ears and into his face! He looked for all the world like he was wearing a dozen or so red birthday candles. Then, she turned out the light and went out, leaving BAK and I resting in the exam room for about 10 minutes ... and while he did get tired of hanging out up on the exam table, he was calm and quiet and relaxed for the rest of the visit.

(As she walked into the back of the vet's office, I heard one of the techs - who knows BAK very well - say, "He let you do it?")

I'm not saying that he's going to be going back for twice-weekly visits (out of our budget, unfortunately), but if helps his arthritis and helps wean him off some of his meds, I will certainly spring for once or twice a month. (Maybe I should ask her if she needs any landscape design work or computer repair work done and we can work out a trade.)

I'm sorry I don't have photos to share of BAK playing pincushion. But I didn't want to risk using my noisy cellphone camera and disturbing him during his moment of zen.

We'll keep everyone posted!

Addendum: Vet visit was mid-day Monday, and the nose was good until late afternoon today (Tuesday) when we had another bleeding episode. But, since I let the humidifier dry up, that could have been my fault. Other than that, things continue pretty well.

VOTE TODAY!!!

Nothing like finding out about this stuff at the last minute!

Please go here today and vote for "Pets Forever". (It's option #1) The voting ends tonight!!!

You can read about the program on their website, here, but the gist of it is that the Pets Forever program matches veterinary students at Colorado State University with elderly, low-income and disabled pet owners so that the owners are able to keep their pets with them for longer than they might otherwise be able to.

Full disclosure: I am a CSU alum, and my college roommate graduated from the vet school there. (She's the one who brought Electric Mayhem into our lives.) However, I'm one of these people who doesn't have any warm fuzzy feelings at all about her alma mater ... except this program!

Most of the people who read this blog have already gotten an e-mail from me on this, but just in case I missed someone in my haste, please vote today! Pets and their people will thank you for it!

12 Years Ago Tonight...

...We brought this guy home from the shelter:

"Presents? Catnip mousie? How about a little tribute for the A-Day boy?"

He was huge, he was stinky, he had goo coming out of his eyes and he made weird wheezing noises. He hid under the coffee table that first night, coming out only when we put the new litter box where he could see it. Then he made a beeline for it and kicked scoopable kitty litter out all over the rug - before running back under the coffee table. We kept our fingers crossed that whole first weekend until we could get him in to the vet for "the operation", but he was a true gentleman and didn't spray once. He came home that next Monday night minus his naughty bits and damp (but smelling better) from the bath they'd given him and he settled right in as our furry boy.

He has moved around a lot with us over the past twelve years, and seen four more kitties come into our home. But Mr. Boo has always been El Gato Primo with us. Diabetes, cataracts and arthritis notwithstanding, he still rules the roost and claims the prime sleeping spot (snuggled right up next to Mama) every night.

"Awesome 'nip, man ... that's what I'm talkin' about!"

We know he has more years behind him than ahead of him, but today is not the day to dwell on that. Today is a day to celebrate our grumpy old love-bug, dole out generous head skritches, and tell him how lucky we are to have been adopted by him.

Happy Adoption Day, Big Acoustic Kitty! We love you so very, very much!

"Love you too ... Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz."

Poor Little Monster

Big Yellow Hallway Monster went off to the vet this morning with all 20 teeth. He came home with only 13.

Other than some residual loopy-ness from the anesthesia and the pain meds, he's doing pretty well - but he has taken up residence in a dark corner of the basement, under the watchful eye of (surprisingly) Miss Electric Mayhem. More details to come.

Belated Recognition

I'm a day late in wishing Happy Adoption Day to our newest troublemakers, Little Grey Kitteh and Big Yellow Hallway Monster!

(Shown here in less-antagonistic times)

Here's hoping that (the aggression issues will get better and everyone will stop trying to kill each other and will stop peeing all over the damn house and) we'll all have many more Adoption Days to celebrate together!

Branching Out

Because I don't have enough to do with my days (ha!) I decided to start a 2nd blog. The new one is very cat-specific (because I can't ever find time to squeeze any information about the kitties into this blog) and will hopefully be of limited duration.

The Great Cat Reclamation Project is its name, and while there's only one post up there at the moment, more will be coming soon.

Yet Another Vet Visit.

The Big Yellow Hallway Monster and I just got home from the vet. Crystals in our urine ... we haz them. (Well, HE has them. As far as we know, I'm fine.) So now BYHM has a new stash of canned food that's just for him, and he's going to get to eat fishy pudding twice a day instead of just once. Gotta thin out all that nastiness in our little urinary tract, dontcha know. We also have a new tube of calming ear goo ... everybody's getting a schmear. (Well, not the Big Acoustic Kitty, because it's not good for diabetics. But everybody else can have some.)

And BYHM has broken a new weight record for our fur-babies ... 18 lbs! That's a full pound heavier than Ziggy was at his peak! (Ziggy still holds the record as the tallest and longest cat we've ever had, though.) So the canned food is a bit of a balancing act ... we need the extra moisture, but we need to make sure we're not overdoing the calories.

In other cat news, Electric Mayhem and Big Acoustic Kitty are doing fine. (knock wood) As a matter of fact BAK's diabetes seems to be in remission right now, so he's trucking along without his insulin shots. The Little Grey Kitteh continues to enjoy his outings from the guest room, as well as his one-on-one time with me in the evenings. With BYHM at the vet, LGK got to spend an extended time out of the guest room this morning ... a little too extended, it turns out. I wasn't paying as much attention as I should have, and he and BAK had a little bit of a run-in with some minor aggression and tail-puffing. (I think LGK came around the end of the bed and discovered BAK helping himself to LGK's kibble.) Since every other time they've been around each other, things have been pretty good, I'm chalking it up to too much stimulation and not enough supervision. Bad Kitty Mama!

So, that's that. We did get our act together over the weekend and weed out some unnecessary items and put them up on Craigslist in an attempt to undo some of the damage caused by the recent (and still-to-come) vet bills. No nibbles yet, but we're keeping our fingers crossed.

In other news, fall semester started today and I have to go back to work tomorrow. But let's face it ... nobody comes here to read about that stuff. :-)

News. Pull Up A Chair.

Where did the summer go? School starts up again Monday, and I'm not terribly pleased about it. I seem to recall something about getting a little bit of a vacation this summer ... ha! Here it is the middle of August, and I haven't even managed to get to a single baseball game yet. (And since it's painfully obvious that the Rockies aren't heading anywhere near the playoffs this year, time's a'wasting!)

All my grand and glorious plans for my garden fizzled out, too. Funny how working 40 - 50 hours a week at a nursery can make one not terribly interested in spending free time outside working on planting things. I did manage to get a little salsa garden planted, but it looks like the onions are going to be the only real survivors. The tomatoes and peppers both got wiped out by hail, and while the plants themselves are hanging on, they aren't really producing anything. The strawberries I planted were turned into a litterbox for some neighborhood cats. I did get a few other things planted ... one peach tree, three lavenders and three catmints. The peach tree and the lavender were "rescues" from work and the catmint was rescued from a Master Gardener project. Pretty much everything that I actually spent money on is still sitting in its nursery pot on the patio. Pathetic.

And then of course there are the cats. Are you seated comfortably for this next bit? You might want to go get a beverage.

Life on the feline front has been increasingly chaotic around here. For a while, problems seemed to be coming at us from out of nowhere, but reflection has shown that things have been building for quite some time. I'll spare you the long, drawn-out story, but basically it boils down to an increasing unhappiness about the amount of time the humans are spending at home, plus some territorial aggression issues, along with some "social maturity" issues, and one big urinary tract infection to top it all off. Since I started back to work in late March, the relationship between the Little Grey Kitteh and the Big Yellow Hallway Monster has started to show some strain. Throw open the windows and doors in the spring and summer weather and provide the chance for BYHM to come face-to-face (through window glass and screens) with various neighborhood cats and suddenly we're dealing with a cat who not only has some weird sort of abandonment issue, but is now also feeling insecure about all these "new" cats. Redirected aggression and "marking" (yep ... kitty pee on the walls) ensue. Stress levels continue upward. The Electric Mayhem moves from being viewed as something of a plaything to something of a target. She gets cut off from litterbox access and now we have sneak-pees behind the furniture. New litterbox on the main level helps a little, but not enough. Humans make big mistake and move new litterbox into the basement. LGK does not approve of the change - more pee stains on the carpet. Humans blow outrageous sum of money on Nature's Miracle and Feliway. Massive, hardcore three-cat fight triggered by visit from random tabby outside the kitchen door. LGK attacks everybody and will not stop. LGK is relocated to the guest room with his own food, water and litter for a while to calm down. (LGK likes this arrangement so much that he's still not really inclined to come back out.) Situation is discussed, books are consulted, decision is made to re-introduce LGK as if he were a new cat. Vet visit reveals that LGK has a urinary tract infection - LGK is sent home with a week's work of antibiotics, "calming treats" and a syringe full of transdermal goo that is supposed to calm him down. (Humans think that for what they paid the vet, the goo should go in their ears!) Reintroduction process begins, starting with Big Acoustic Kitty ... and nobody seems unduly stressed about anything. Hmm. Observation of the two remaining downstairs kittehs reveals that while the carpet-piddling has ceased, spraying and redirected aggression remain ... turns out that BYHM seems to be the root cause of the problem and that LGK had apparently just reached his limit the day he blew up at everybody. Humans consider what will be involved in getting BYHM to the vet and then separating and reintroducing him to everyone, have a matching set of nervous breakdowns, sell the cats to a wandering band of gypsies, run away from home and join the first cat-free ashram they find.

Not really on that last part, but we're not ruling it out quite yet. Seriously, I have no idea what we're going to do with him. He's a huge love, but the idea of quarantining him for however long and then going through the whole reintroduction process with him and all three of the other cats and retraining him to try and defuse his whole redirected aggression issue is just about more than I can get my head around. And how exactly are we supposed to "eliminate the causes of the aggression"? We've already made the sunroom off-limits after a rather impressive fight a few months ago. We now have freezer paper taped to the sliding glass door in the kitchen so he can't see out. We live in a colonial-style house where all the 1st-floor windows are less than a foot off the floor ... are we supposed to soap them all up for the next 10+ years of his life? The book that is our go-to for cat issues is less than helpful on this. "Discourage" cats from coming around by removing bird feeders and possibly keep a water pistol handy to scare them off. Right.

So. One step at a time, I guess. All I can say is that the vet better send us home with a whole vat of that transdermal goo this time.

If you're wondering about the mama cat and her kittens in the backyard, well, nothing much has happened. The house across the backyard from us is finally occupied again after sitting empty for most of the past year. The new folks have a dog, and I think that has caused the kitties to relocate their home base. We don't see them as often, and we haven't seen all four of them together since right after the last time I posted about them. The kibble I was putting out kept disappearing, but they always seemed to come by in the middle of the night. So ... we haven't completely ruled out doing a TNR on the little family, but I don't know if it will actually be possible now. I feel guilty for not doing more, but I keep telling myself that the energy we have for dealing with cat problems needs to be focused on the four we have indoors with us. Hopefully St. Francis or some other cat-friendly being will take care of mama and her brood.

So that's our life ... how have you been?

For Our Next Trick...

... we here at Kitty Chair are going on a crash course in TNR. (That's "Trap, Neuter, Release", for anyone unfamiliar with the initials.) See, we just discovered that we have kittens. Three of them, to be exact. And one rather youngish mama kitty.

Ever since we moved in last August, we've been aware that our back yard - along with the backyard of the abandoned house right behind ours - is a favorite spot for neighborhood kitties. Kitty poops in the gravel behind the garage, flashes of cats traveling hither and thither, lots of little kitty pawprints in the snow over the winter...that kind of thing. No big deal, although we did see one particular white and tabby-point cat on a somewhat regular basis. She never hung around long enough for us to get a really good look at her, and she'd take off it either of us tried to approach. A couple of months ago, though, I saw her out the window and noticed that she was looking pretty bedraggled. We started putting some kibble out on the patio, but it didn't always disappear and it was starting to attract mice, so we stopped.

This morning I looked out the window into the garden and there was the cat, along with three kittens that looked just like her. (Pooping in one of my garden beds, but that's beside the point.) In one corner of the backyard, right up against the fence, is about a six-foot piece of cottonwood trunk, completely covered with Virginia Creeper vines. Based on some of the regular pawprints I saw over the winter, I think that's where Mama's been raising her kittens. Sigh.

We saw them out in the backyard this evening, romping around and having a wonderful kittenish time. However, we're guessing they're somewhere in the 12+ week old range, and probably too old to be socialized. So, we've decided that trapping them, getting them spayed/neutered and then returning them to the backyard is probably for the best. And I think we need to get it done soon, before they get old enough to start 1) striking out on their own and/or 2) breeding.

So ... luckily we have RMACA as a resource, and hopefully we can manage to get Mama and all three babies caught and taken for their surgeries in short order. We've never done this before - although I came close once before with a sweet kitty who had taken up residence in my office's parking garage. Since it's a mama and kittens, I do want to get some advice before going and putting out the traps ... should we try to get them all at once, or can we bring them in one at a time? I worry that doing it one at a time might spook the others and make them trap shy, but on the other hand, getting some of them is better than getting none of them. Right?

And yes, they are just cute as the dickens, and we did discuss the possibility of adopting them. But 8 kitties is way, way, WAY too many, even for us. And since some unpleasant territorial behavior from our two youngest gentlemen (Ahem, I'm looking specifically at YOU, Little Grey Kitteh!) has cropped up over the past few weeks, we do believe that going the TNR route is the best way to deal with the situation. We're happy to put up a little weather shelter and feeding station in the backyard to help them out.

(But "cute" really just doesn't begin to cover it. I'll try really hard to get photos!)

WHOOP! WHOOP! DANGER! DANGER!

On Friday, the sign near the time clock read, "Free Kittens!" It then went on to explain that our store manager had rescued some semi-feral kittens and they needed homes. It suggested that they would probably make good barn cats.

"Hmm," I said to myself. "I hope she finds good homes for them."

This morning, the sign near the time clock read, "Free Kittens!" It then went on to explain that the kittens had been worked with over the weekend and were actually quite friendly and were able to be picked up and played with. "The black and white one is spoken for, but the all-black one is still available!"

Uh-oh. I can't help but think that we still have a little bit of space here and there ... see?

However, other opinions have not been favorable:

"I am STILL the head of this household, and I say no more cats!"

Gratuitous Kitty Photos

In order to function properly lately, I've needed to make sure that I get my daily dose of fuzz-therapy. Luckily, I have four very ready sources of same. And because I know that life often hands us all a bit more than we're really comfortable with, here are some photos of "The Horde" to help things along.

First, we have The Big Acoustic Kitty, relaxing in the afternoon sunbeam that comes through the guest bathroom window. Apparently, this is the best late-day sunbeam in the house. He's not terribly pleased about having his photo taken.



Next - to go in order of seniority - is The Electric Mayhem. Her Majesty fussed and fussed and fussed to be let out into the sunroom, regardless of what I told her about it being rather cold and wet that day. But note the fires of evil flickering in her eyes ... I guess when you have your own infernal heat source, a little rain doesn't mean much.



Okay, now, this is just kind of a ridiculous photo. The Big Yellow Hallway Monster loves to flop over onto his back and show the world his tummy. But on this particular day, a roguish sunbeam found its way onto his nether regions, and he was a little confused by the warmth for a bit. Then he napped. But I think the late John Denver wouldn't have objected to our serenading BYHM with "Sunshine on Mah Harbuhls Makes Meh Happee". *



The Leetle Grreeeeyyy Kitty. (You really have to work up a good Peter Lorre accent for it to sound right.) Oh, my ... this boy is one of a kind. In a good way. Aside from the delight he takes in tormenting his older sister, he is the sweetest little love-bug ever. Alas, that grey fur of his doesn't photograph all that well. But this is a pretty good one of Mr. Roquefort in repose.



And, finally ... a little brotherly kitty love. It always starts with a little nose-rubbing...


And then it ends up as something else. Ka-Pow!


*Apologies for the lapse into LOLspeak. It can happen to the best of us.

16.5 & 9.9

16.5 is what showed up on the bathroom scale the other morning when the Big Yellow Hallway Monster* stepped on it. The late and still-lamented Ziggy topped out at 17. Considering the way he eats, I think BYHM may break that record.

9.9 is what Big Acoustic Kitty weighed in at during yesterday's vet visit. That's quite a bit down from the 14-ish pounds that he weighed during his prime. But considering the fight he put up before we finally got him into his carrier, he's still chugging along reasonably well for an old man.

* This is the cat formerly referred to as Thing 1. His nocturnal lurkings in the upstairs hallway got him his new nickname, courtesy of Grandpa.

I'm Back!

Thank God and Greyhound, spring semester is over and done with. I haven't been this happy to see summer vacation since ... well, grade school, probably. Burnout has been setting in, and dragging myself over the finish line this semester was a pretty tall order. But, I'm looking at three months of no classes and no 50-mile round trip to campus three days a week and I'm much happier.

I believe I mentioned that I'm once again gainfully employed, but I don't think I gave any details. I started my new job at the end of March, working in one of the local garden centers in their tree and shrub nursery. So far I'm enjoying it, though my body is far less comfortable being on its feet all day than it was many years ago when I last worked a "stand-up" job. I splurged on some fancy-schmancy gel insoles the other day, but they aren't much help. Unfortunately, it's not a permanent job - how long they keep their seasonal people on depends entirely on how their spring and early summer sales go - but from things I'm hearing, once you're in, you're in for as many seasons as you'd like. And I may be able to pick up some additional work this winter when their Christmas tree sales start. If nothing else, working in the nursery is an excellent way to have day-in, day-out, "hands on" experience with the various trees and shrubs. Sure, I've taken all the plant i.d. classes, but this is Colorado we're talking about ... for most of the semester, it's not plant i.d., it's stick-and-twig i.d. Seeing the plants every day as they go through their growth cycle is a whole different thing.

There's also the issue of my employee discount. I have a whole yard that needs a lot of help, and getting a big, fat discount on plants will be useful. I've been pretty good so far, although that walk from the employee entrance through the perennial department to get to the nursery is certainly trying my restraint. I did break down and buy some Silverheels Horehound (Marrubium rotundifolium) a couple of weeks ago. They only had about a half of a flat of the stuff out, and it's one that I've been planning on buying for the front yard. I'm going to plant it in combination with some Seafoam Artemesia (Artemisia versicolor 'Seafoam'). That particular combination is one that I've swiped from CSU's test gardens up in Fort Collins. They had the two planted around the base of this enormous Douglas Fir, and it looked incredible.

I really want a tree for the backyard (we're in desperate need of a screen for some of our neighbors), but the one I keep coming back to is not really all that practical as a screen. We have some Montmorency cherries on the tree lot that I am just in love with ... beautiful glossy reddish bark and huge white flowers. The problem is, they don't get all that big, and I can't stand cherries. The Amazing Husbandini likes them, though. So I'll probably just use him as an excuse when I finally cave in and buy one. :-)

In other news, the kitties are all doing well. The Big Acoustic Kitty is still puttering along on his mini-dose of insulin twice a day. His drinking is still up there, as is his "output", but other than that things seem to be about the same. He's certainly as grumpy as ever.

That's it for now, but once the dust settles and things around here get back under some sort of control, I'll put new batteries in the camera and post some gratuitous kitty photos.

Confession of a Horrible Kitty Mama.

Erg. I'm still all oogie-feeling over this one. And while I take full responsibility for what happened, I still place some of the blame on the vet. And my mother.

See, back when Mr. Big Acoustic Kitty was first starting on his whole diabetes rollercoaster, he had developed some serious grooming issues. His poor orange fur was just matting up something awful, and he couldn't/wouldn't do anything about it. But he certainly could still protest if we tried to do anything about it. After one especially memorable visit in which the vet techs scrubbed his nether regions (which resulted in some behavior on his part that still embarrasses me!), the vet suggested that we buy a beard trimmer from the drugstore and try to work on his mats ourselves. (Was this a polite way of telling me they never wanted to repeat that particular experience? I think it was.) We were deeply distrustful of the entire idea, but thought we'd spend the $25 on the trimmer just so we could say we'd tried. Amazingly enough, as long as I was the one who used the trimmer on him, and as long as he could keep his face buried in a pile of gourmet kibble while it was being used, he actually tolerated it. So now he looks like he has mange. But that's neither here nor there.

So there's the vet's share of the blame. I'll get to my mother's in a minute. (Hi, Mom!)

Since his insulin O.D., we've been focusing on other things than his mats, but over the past couple of days I've been noticing that he's grown some new ones that need attention. So I plunked down a pile of Blue Wilderness and grabbed the trimmers, only to find that the cheap-o generic batteries that had come with it were about dead. After changing the batteries, things zipped along much better. I whipped off three or four mats on his neck, made some progress on one on his side, removed one from his shoulder ... and then ran the trimmers through his whiskers.

AAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!

I had to stop and look at what I'd done for a good minute or two, just to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. But sure enough, his lower left whiskers are now only about an inch long. The freshly-shorn whisker tips were strewn around the remaining bits of kibble.

You might wonder why I blame my mother for this. In point of fact, I don't blame her for the trimmer incident. I blame her for this horrible queasy feeling I have in my stomach. You see, when I was a little girl, I loved to play with scissors. And I thought that trimming the kitty's whiskers was simply a nice thing to do ... they were all different lengths, and not nearly as neat and tidy as the rest of her dark tabby coat. (Looking back, she was remarkable tolerant about the entire incident.) But my mother took the scissors away from me and explained to me that you never, never, never trim a cat's whiskers, and that doing so is actually very mean because it takes away some of their ability to sense what's around them. It was a good, motherly, responsible thing to do, but considering that I was already well set on my path to full-on cat-personhood and very much in love with our cat, it gave me a horror of every doing anything damaging to a cat's whiskers. I even get a little OCD about "abandoned" whiskers that I find around the house. (I have a jar full of them. Yes, I'm sure there's something in the DSM IV about it.) So when you take a person like me and have her cut a bunch of whiskers off of her elderly, blind cat ... well, let's just say I'm not looking forward to any dreams I have tonight.

However, like Chinese did 30+ years ago, BAK took the whole thing very well. He didn't even flinch. So I'm hopeful that he'll get through the regrowth period pretty well.

And I do have that jar. Maybe some prosthetic whiskers and some glue ... ?

(Oh, calm down. I'm just kidding about the glue.)

The Lord & Master Has Returned!

Big Acoustic Kitty is home and very happy about it, thankyouverymuch. It's a long story and we've got a busy day ahead of us (including a trip to our regular vet for yet more blood work) but the gist of it is that they're pretty sure his diabetes has gone into remission and this pancreatitis is on the way out, and it was all his medicine that caused the problem.

(And I've discovered that "mother guilt" can attack kitty-mamas as well as human ones, since I feel awful about being the one who gave him the medicine that morning that set him off.)

So ... more later, after things settle down. But for right now, BAK is home and resting and enjoying lots of skritches and cuddles. And stern instructions to never scare me like that again!

Many, many thanks to everyone who send prayers and good thoughts our way. They were much appreciated, and obviously worked very well!!!