A day to be thankful, and I am, for some things. I'm glad I finally read the instructions on the furnace and put the flame in the right place to light pilot light on the furnace. I'm glad that I blew no more fuses after waking up to a 60 degree house yesterday morning. Granted I would have given anything for 60 degrees in here last summer, but when it's only 12 outside, it puts a whole new perspective on having only 60 of those blood warming gizmo's present in the house.
I'm thankful that this year I get to spend it with my mom and her husband. The downside is that I wish our family were designed for the family gathering types of holidays. It makes me feel a little less "singular" when surrounded by siblings, in-laws and the children, grand nieces and nephews. I think it allows one to feel a little more like life will go on, long beyond where mine will end. A bridge if you will, or sandbar, from one island to another.
I'm grateful that all of my four legged family, and my more recent foster charges, are all in good health even if they think our house is too small for 4 kittens, 7 cats and one large dog. We are all healthy, relatively happy and most importantly warm and safe on this Thanksgiving morning.
I'm grateful this year too, that I am coming up on 3 years post cancer. Three years ago this time, I was "taking a break" between surguries to try and get the cancer out of my left breast. And preparing myself for the inevitable removal of both. At the time I was ready for it to be over... to have it, them, gone so that I didn't have to do any radiation or drug treatment. A part of me knows this was the right thing to do, from a medical standpoint. But undressing and seeing the scars, the lack of feeling nearly everywhere on my chest and watching my waist and my hips outgrow the size of my chest is more than a little disconcerting. I would be lying if I didn't admit that I miss them. Not because they are what makes a woman a woman, but because I know what's there isn't real anymore. For me, as much, or more, than for anyone else. It's a constant reminder of those months in 2007 from August to December and beyond... surguries in August, September, October and the big one in December. And now, a lifetime of wondering. Did I merely dodge a bullet back then? will it come back and not allow me the luxury of letting someone just cut it off/out of my body and go on from there? Is this what will take my life? My mother, bless her golden mother's heart, was there for me then, every single step of the way. If it does come back, will the timing allow me to have her with me again, or will I face this alone, as I have done much of my life. Questions, questions... and none to be answered today, now, but to be ever looming in the back of my mind, and darker recesses of my soul.
Aah, but thankful we are. That, although seriously overweight, to the point of being shaped more like a pear than an hourglass these days, we are, as far as anyone knows, cancer free and in relatively good health. Mom is in good health and I think, as much as I can know, that my estranged sister and her family are all in good health, same with my brother who turned 53 yesterday and the other brother out in Maine somewhere, doing whatever it is that Joe does these days. No news is good news they say... they also say ignorance is bliss.. kay saraah.
But I will make a concerted effort today to be thankful, in spite of whatever life lessons seem to be battering me into oblivion and depression lately. I am thankful for the roof over my head, warmth, plenty of coffee and creamer in the kitchen, gas in the tank, a job - not a dream job, but good enough for now. And what I am most grateful for now, is the love and friendship that my mother and I share. She is my best friend, THE best friend I could ask for. And I get to spend the day with her and her husband and we'll laugh, and eat and enjoy the day and being together. What more could you ask for on Thanksgiving?
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Now what....
This morning I'm short one little black female kitten - Sweet Pea.
Mamma cat took all but Garf, who was taking a nap with me on the bed, outside yesterday, and outside the yard. At dusk, when only Garf was home, we went out calling to them, but no one came.
I got in my car and drove around this little hamlet (of about 40 people, with half of those over the age of 60) and thought all was lost, until I saw Mamma cat coming from the direction of our house toward me. I stopped the car, turned around and turned off the lights to follow her and see where she was headed, knowing the kittens were wherever "there" was.
About a half a block from where I live is very large garage... she had left them there in the overgrown grass surrounding the garage. She called them out and I walked up trying to get them caught and into the car to go home... no such luck.
So I came home, and left the window open overnight hoping that she would bring them back to eat when the night got cold...she did, but Sweet Pea was not with them. I think she did this because the night before I'd managed to bring Tucker in and closed the window to keep him in for the night. He and Mamma don't get along and after the trauma Tucker suffered from territorial Charlie, I guess he figured enough was enough. She doesn't go after him in the manner that Charlie did, but I did see her really smack him down once and apparently that was enough for Tuck.
So now I sit and wait in the wee hours of the morning for dawn to break so I can go and look for her to make sure that she eats this morning. I'm so tempted to just close the window once I have them all inside. My older cats know how to come to the door to be let in and winter is close. I anguish over the thought of having these little ones out in the cold of winter and not yet spayed or neutered.
Right now, we sit and wait for dawn, and see what the day brings.
Mamma cat took all but Garf, who was taking a nap with me on the bed, outside yesterday, and outside the yard. At dusk, when only Garf was home, we went out calling to them, but no one came.
I got in my car and drove around this little hamlet (of about 40 people, with half of those over the age of 60) and thought all was lost, until I saw Mamma cat coming from the direction of our house toward me. I stopped the car, turned around and turned off the lights to follow her and see where she was headed, knowing the kittens were wherever "there" was.
About a half a block from where I live is very large garage... she had left them there in the overgrown grass surrounding the garage. She called them out and I walked up trying to get them caught and into the car to go home... no such luck.
So I came home, and left the window open overnight hoping that she would bring them back to eat when the night got cold...she did, but Sweet Pea was not with them. I think she did this because the night before I'd managed to bring Tucker in and closed the window to keep him in for the night. He and Mamma don't get along and after the trauma Tucker suffered from territorial Charlie, I guess he figured enough was enough. She doesn't go after him in the manner that Charlie did, but I did see her really smack him down once and apparently that was enough for Tuck.
So now I sit and wait in the wee hours of the morning for dawn to break so I can go and look for her to make sure that she eats this morning. I'm so tempted to just close the window once I have them all inside. My older cats know how to come to the door to be let in and winter is close. I anguish over the thought of having these little ones out in the cold of winter and not yet spayed or neutered.
Right now, we sit and wait for dawn, and see what the day brings.
The Adopted Family
My cats enjoy the freedom of being indoor/outdoor cats, they always have. I know that there are some that would disagree with this and, on several points they argue, I would agree. I am also aware that social environment issues such as neighbors, carelessly busy roads and the like also come into play as to whether or not a cat owner lets their cat go outside unfettered. My strongest argument for this comes from beleiving that quality will win out over quantity everytime. I believe my cats deserve the right to be able to hunt, birds, mice, rabbits, or just chase butterflies and lounge in the sun and the breeze. And yes, this choice has cost me dearly loved pets, but I also believe that, when you "number" is up, nothing is going to change that - whether man or beast. I know that if I were confined in such a way and left to a life of longing for what I could see but not experience, I would wither and die from the inside out. My personal freedom is often the only thing that keeps me going on days when there seems little else to work with.
But I digress.
About 6 weeks ago, with the back door of the house held slightly open (this home, with screen doors, is not as conducive to my cat door that we had installed in our old house which opened into the garage) a young nursing mamma cat came in and sat in my kitchen. She was starving and sick... so I fed her. She left, but came back every couple days or so for the next week and a half. Then one day she brought me her family. Four little wild kittens, well, almost all of them were wild - except for a little orange DLH male who is now known as Garf. He quickly became the ambassador between myself and the other three kittens. They were all very sick with URI, a couple so badly their eyes barely opened.
Within a couple days I was able to get them on Biomox but what a time my mother and I had in catching those little critters. Garf was easy, Elvis, the little black and white male was harder but not terribly, Sweet Pea, the tiny little black runt female put a up a good fight but finally succumbed. But the toughest of them all, all along, has been Tabs - a male brown tabby and the largest of the kittens. Even with leather gloves on he had me bleeding in a couple spots and once caught, the gloves had to come off to operate the dropper - that's when he bit into my little finger... ouch!
But I digress.
About 6 weeks ago, with the back door of the house held slightly open (this home, with screen doors, is not as conducive to my cat door that we had installed in our old house which opened into the garage) a young nursing mamma cat came in and sat in my kitchen. She was starving and sick... so I fed her. She left, but came back every couple days or so for the next week and a half. Then one day she brought me her family. Four little wild kittens, well, almost all of them were wild - except for a little orange DLH male who is now known as Garf. He quickly became the ambassador between myself and the other three kittens. They were all very sick with URI, a couple so badly their eyes barely opened.
Garf - always welcomes you with a purr.
Within a couple days I was able to get them on Biomox but what a time my mother and I had in catching those little critters. Garf was easy, Elvis, the little black and white male was harder but not terribly, Sweet Pea, the tiny little black runt female put a up a good fight but finally succumbed. But the toughest of them all, all along, has been Tabs - a male brown tabby and the largest of the kittens. Even with leather gloves on he had me bleeding in a couple spots and once caught, the gloves had to come off to operate the dropper - that's when he bit into my little finger... ouch!
Elvis - who always loves a belly rub
Tabs and Sweet Pea with ghost dog Shelby in the back ground
They have all become healthy, happy little creatures and even though it took nearly a month, I can now pet and even belly rub Tabs. Well, except for the snarking noise that Garf had been making. Two trips to the vet, the frustrating kind where the symptoms they present at home, won't show up while you're at the vet. This last time Garf stayed overnight even. He kept purring so much that the doc had a very hard time listening to his lungs. But, he got a shot of antibiotics and because he'd seemed to stop eating the day or so before this trip, a small dose of steroids. I haven't heard a snark since.
Mamma cat and everyone but Garf
I left word with the vet to try and find homes and have actually had three calls for them. One, the first was a mother and her two children who came to look at them and wanted to take Garf. But, they wanted him to replace a young kitten that had been hit on the road by their house, to put him outdoors (the little girl had allergies) with 2 or 3 other young cats they had. With Garf's apparent respiratory issues the adoption was politely declined.
Next came the woman who called insistantly, seeming desparate to get ahold of me about them. She lived on a farm and it would have been a good home except for the fact that the woman admitted she did not intend to get them fixed because they wanted "a lot" of cats. For them all to have gone to a good farm home would have been wonderful, but knowing that there was no intention of fixing any of them and sending the girls off to a live of breeding and the boys to a life of fighting to breed - most likely their own mother or sibling, was not acceptable.
The third caller may well have been a good home. But me, being me, asked a lot of questions and found that the woman calling wanted two of the kittens - Elvis and Garf, to keep in their garage. She had 3 children, ranging from 6 mos. to 5 yrs and said that she was certain the children would want the kittens in the house to play with during the day... then they would be banished to the garage. Though she assured me they would get them fixed, and while it may well have been imaginary lines that I read between, this situation told my gut that they would only be welcome until one of two things happened... either one of the kittens, not used to toddlers and babies, scratched someone out of fear; or, they outgrew being cute kittens. This woman and I agreed to let her take them on a trial basis, with me offering to take them back unconditionally should things not work out... but she never called back to come and see them.
Oh well.
I don't need to have 7 cats and 4 kittens in my little trailer, but the thought of worrying about the life I've offered up to these little ones, just to have them out of my house and after so much work put into them to make them friendly, house adoptable, kittens is not worth it. They will stay until a good home is found, and I trust that one will be... or they will remain with me and I will eventually get them all spayed and neutered and continue to work to find them homes.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Immediate Family
I love cats, plain and simple. I have a dog too, a labrador that's been with me for 13 years and across 3 states, and she loves to eat the catnip when I put it out for the cats. Dogs are ok by me and lord knows I would do anything I could to help a dog in need, but they are much more needy and generally insistant about attention than cats. I think that dog lovers are people who have a very strong need to be needed. Cat lovers are the more independent type who "know" they are needed, but also understand well the need for a cat's independence and respect the often aloof personalities of the feline world.
It is in this particular post that I will introduce my immediate "family" cat family. I also have a foster situation, a sad situation averted due to a mamma cat that did read the invisible tattoo on my forehead that reads "all strays welcome". I swear the strays have me figured out, at least those not terrified of human interaction.
My immediate family consists of LC, short for Little Cat, a very large Maine Coon female who came to me quietly in an old backyard. She was about 6-7 mos. old at the time and sat for 3 days in the middle of my backyard staring at my apartment, watching me. Knowing what I know now after nearly 12 years with her, I'm certain she was sizing me up. She's the smart and thoughtful one - she will always look before she leaps. A large 13lb or so ball of fur. For those that don't know - Maine Coon cats actualy have a triple coat and huge, very hair feet. She managed to have one litter before I could get her fixed, and from that litter came Faith.
Faith is the second to the oldest of my cats and a well built, stocky brown tabby. She is a lover, a near constant singer, and always ready with a chatty "story" to tell you. She is also one of the most passive of all my cats. Of LC's litter, I kept Faith and Hope, though Hope is no longer with us. Faith also managed to have a couple litters before I could afford to get her fixed, over a decade ago. From her came a black kitten adopted by a friend and named Charity. From Charity came my next eldest cat, and probably one of the most pleasant male cats I've known - Dalton. (I'm embarrassed to say that I don't have any pictures of Faith in my library - Mom must have the pics I'm thinking of - have to get that fixed!)
Dalton is a Lynx Point - part tabby and part siamese with the most beautiful blue eyes. He's large too, about 10 lbs or so, but all in proportion. He rubs nearly everything he comes in contact with and has since he was a baby. That fact and the fact that when he was younger, he would be fearful of you a little, until you spoke. This had made me believe that the blue eyes don't necessarily see as well as other cats, at least in Dalton. He is sweet, calm and usually the first to warm up to, or at least tolerate, any new cats in the house. Dalton has been with me now about 6 years.
A year ago last summer, while still living in Montana, I got involved with a local TNP program while trying to capture a feral tom cat that was feeding at my neighbor's house. Tom as we both called him, was sick and injured from all the tom fighting. We wanted to catch him and get him to a vet so we called the TNP group. she came out and tried, though we never did catch him, eventually he warmed up to the neighbor and started coming inside the house to be warm, but wouldn't let anyone but her get within 10 feet. I did use the plans for a feral cat house from alleycats.org and built him a very nice and cozy home that was placed on the neighbor's back porch. I do not know if she was ever able to get him to a vet, but I do know that it was one of her priorities.
However, in this process, the gal we worked with had just brought in a litter of 4 kittens that had been abandoned by their mother and everyone else, from under a mobile home. I agreed to foster two of them, a black and white female, eventually named Sugar and a very tiny and starving black male who, with a purr you can hear across the room, has since earned the name Boomer. Sugar was the sweetest and gentlest little loving girl you could ever hope for. I was always amazed at her level of acceptance, of nearly everything, and her willingness and desire to be loved and cuddled anytime, anywhere.
Sugar left us this last summer, went out and never came home. I prefer to believe that someone else took her in. Any thoughts other than that and my heart breaks. Boomer, who is now a very large, classicly built, glossy black (neutered) male, is still here with us. He loves to have his belly rubbed and position himself just right in bed at night so that you, and he, can fall asleep rubbing his belly while he sings to you.
I credit both Sugar and Boomer for bringing Mitsi to us. A couple weeks after Sugar and Boomer came to my house, I heard a pitiful cry coming from under our front porch. Some quiet time on the steps with the other cats and kittens out playing in the front yard, brought out an extremely tiny, and nearly starved to death little calico, polydactyl female kitten. Her extra toes made her front feet look huge compared to the tiny little body that they carried and wild as the west she was. I started putting food out for her on the front porch, and setting times to put out canned food for her so we could get on a schedule. After a couple weeks of this, she would remain on the porch and eat with me sitting nearby. If not for the timing of me going out the back door and scaring her up under the cover on the barbeque, I'm not certain she would not still be wild. I will never forget the terror of knowing that my window of opportunity was there, then, and would be very small to capture and try and tame this little girl. Mostly, it was knowing that I was about to stick my bare hand up under a piece of canvas and try and latch onto a very wild, very very scared, little girl. Fortunately, I came out if with only a couple nicely bleeding scratches and one canine tooth bite through my little finger. I wrapped her close to me and made for the back door, getting there just as she exploded - tossed her inside and closed the door.
It took me nearly 6 weeks to get this little girl to trust me. And even now, I am the only one she trusts. My mother, if she's around enough, is "ok" but can still send Mitsi away just by being here. She is a street savvy, self protecting, loving little girl. She is the one who makes my heart want to burst when she shows me just how much she trusts and loves me.
It's a little disconcerting to realize that the pictures I thought I had, are still with my mom. Pictures of Faith, and my old Blue Russian "Mamma". A loving but cantankerous little cat who believed her and I to be joined at the hip. She left us after nearly 14 yrs when her kidneys gave out. Preceded by her son, Jackson, who topped out at nearly 24lbs in his prime. 10 good loving years he gave us too, before his kidneys got tired too... but that's for another post.
Shelby, the cat dog, aka "Bubba". She is 13 now, with bad hips, and she will be terribly missed, not only by me and the friends she's made along the way, but also by her "cat family".
Shelby can usually be found outside with no less than three cats following her around. They believe her to be their "protector" and she has, and considers it her job, to break up cat fights. No one gets hurt, but having her coming at you is enough to break up the fight. For this she usually gets a head butt from her rescued kitty.
It is in this particular post that I will introduce my immediate "family" cat family. I also have a foster situation, a sad situation averted due to a mamma cat that did read the invisible tattoo on my forehead that reads "all strays welcome". I swear the strays have me figured out, at least those not terrified of human interaction.
My immediate family consists of LC, short for Little Cat, a very large Maine Coon female who came to me quietly in an old backyard. She was about 6-7 mos. old at the time and sat for 3 days in the middle of my backyard staring at my apartment, watching me. Knowing what I know now after nearly 12 years with her, I'm certain she was sizing me up. She's the smart and thoughtful one - she will always look before she leaps. A large 13lb or so ball of fur. For those that don't know - Maine Coon cats actualy have a triple coat and huge, very hair feet. She managed to have one litter before I could get her fixed, and from that litter came Faith.
Faith is the second to the oldest of my cats and a well built, stocky brown tabby. She is a lover, a near constant singer, and always ready with a chatty "story" to tell you. She is also one of the most passive of all my cats. Of LC's litter, I kept Faith and Hope, though Hope is no longer with us. Faith also managed to have a couple litters before I could afford to get her fixed, over a decade ago. From her came a black kitten adopted by a friend and named Charity. From Charity came my next eldest cat, and probably one of the most pleasant male cats I've known - Dalton. (I'm embarrassed to say that I don't have any pictures of Faith in my library - Mom must have the pics I'm thinking of - have to get that fixed!)
Dalton is a Lynx Point - part tabby and part siamese with the most beautiful blue eyes. He's large too, about 10 lbs or so, but all in proportion. He rubs nearly everything he comes in contact with and has since he was a baby. That fact and the fact that when he was younger, he would be fearful of you a little, until you spoke. This had made me believe that the blue eyes don't necessarily see as well as other cats, at least in Dalton. He is sweet, calm and usually the first to warm up to, or at least tolerate, any new cats in the house. Dalton has been with me now about 6 years.
LC and Dalton lounging on the front sidewalk.
Next came Tucker, a tuxedo male adopted at Christmas time in 2006. He has turned out to be one of my most sensitive cats. The "new" family of kittens we're fostering now has sent him outside, especially after fostering a local male cat, Charlie, who got so territorial with me that he didn't want anyone else in the house and would chase them, inside, outside and plant himself at the window opening so they wouldn't even think about coming inside. Tucker is also my family "ham". He can be insistantly loving and provides some of the most heart warming cat antics, especially with such a face that you can't help but fall in love with.
Tucker checking out Sugar on one of her first outings.
A year ago last summer, while still living in Montana, I got involved with a local TNP program while trying to capture a feral tom cat that was feeding at my neighbor's house. Tom as we both called him, was sick and injured from all the tom fighting. We wanted to catch him and get him to a vet so we called the TNP group. she came out and tried, though we never did catch him, eventually he warmed up to the neighbor and started coming inside the house to be warm, but wouldn't let anyone but her get within 10 feet. I did use the plans for a feral cat house from alleycats.org and built him a very nice and cozy home that was placed on the neighbor's back porch. I do not know if she was ever able to get him to a vet, but I do know that it was one of her priorities.
However, in this process, the gal we worked with had just brought in a litter of 4 kittens that had been abandoned by their mother and everyone else, from under a mobile home. I agreed to foster two of them, a black and white female, eventually named Sugar and a very tiny and starving black male who, with a purr you can hear across the room, has since earned the name Boomer. Sugar was the sweetest and gentlest little loving girl you could ever hope for. I was always amazed at her level of acceptance, of nearly everything, and her willingness and desire to be loved and cuddled anytime, anywhere.
Sugar and Boomer a couple weeks after coming to live with us.
Boomer this last summer. I sent this picture out to friends and told them I had a new "Boom box".
Sugar left us this last summer, went out and never came home. I prefer to believe that someone else took her in. Any thoughts other than that and my heart breaks. Boomer, who is now a very large, classicly built, glossy black (neutered) male, is still here with us. He loves to have his belly rubbed and position himself just right in bed at night so that you, and he, can fall asleep rubbing his belly while he sings to you.
I credit both Sugar and Boomer for bringing Mitsi to us. A couple weeks after Sugar and Boomer came to my house, I heard a pitiful cry coming from under our front porch. Some quiet time on the steps with the other cats and kittens out playing in the front yard, brought out an extremely tiny, and nearly starved to death little calico, polydactyl female kitten. Her extra toes made her front feet look huge compared to the tiny little body that they carried and wild as the west she was. I started putting food out for her on the front porch, and setting times to put out canned food for her so we could get on a schedule. After a couple weeks of this, she would remain on the porch and eat with me sitting nearby. If not for the timing of me going out the back door and scaring her up under the cover on the barbeque, I'm not certain she would not still be wild. I will never forget the terror of knowing that my window of opportunity was there, then, and would be very small to capture and try and tame this little girl. Mostly, it was knowing that I was about to stick my bare hand up under a piece of canvas and try and latch onto a very wild, very very scared, little girl. Fortunately, I came out if with only a couple nicely bleeding scratches and one canine tooth bite through my little finger. I wrapped her close to me and made for the back door, getting there just as she exploded - tossed her inside and closed the door.
Mitsi after about a month inside the house.
It took me nearly 6 weeks to get this little girl to trust me. And even now, I am the only one she trusts. My mother, if she's around enough, is "ok" but can still send Mitsi away just by being here. She is a street savvy, self protecting, loving little girl. She is the one who makes my heart want to burst when she shows me just how much she trusts and loves me.
Mitsi, about a year later - happy, healthy and secure.
It's a little disconcerting to realize that the pictures I thought I had, are still with my mom. Pictures of Faith, and my old Blue Russian "Mamma". A loving but cantankerous little cat who believed her and I to be joined at the hip. She left us after nearly 14 yrs when her kidneys gave out. Preceded by her son, Jackson, who topped out at nearly 24lbs in his prime. 10 good loving years he gave us too, before his kidneys got tired too... but that's for another post.
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