We Shaved The Kitty!

I've always been wary of cats. When my husband suggested we get one, I balked. Cats are fluffy. I hate fluffy. When we had a chow mix, I personally shaved her to the "needs sunscreen" level every three weeks. My aversion to wooly textures causes me much squirming and hand washing.

If cats came with reptile skin and ornate bumpy patterns, I'd own a fifteen acre kitty farm. But, they don't, so adding one to our houshold two years ago was a big deal. I took baby steps. I started with LOLcats. Fifty pages of cute captioned cats melted my heart. I began to look for the perfect companion.

I found her at the Petsmart Adpot-A-Pet Giardia Center. Pearl, aged five, was not the loveliest cat, but she had extra toes, snaggly teeth and a sweet disposition. When I met her for the first time, she shed clumps and handfuls of white fur. The Animal Rescue staff assured me it was due to stress. She'd been at the center for months. I loved her. Instantly. She purred and rubbed on me, and I shook off the hair without thinking.

So, the cat my husband wanted became the cat my husband complained about. Kitty Pearl does not excel at grooming. I brush her, but I cannot tackle the dense fur on her bottom or poochy tummy. Every morning, cottony clouds of kitty fur breeze across our wooden floor.  I prefer to groom Pearl professionally, but it is expensive. Saturday morning, a cup and a half of kitty hair clumps greeted us.

My husband and I bickered over what to do. We settled on a butt and belly shave. Pearl was sweet and compliant through the whole process. Egor held her as I shaved off two quarts of hair. We removed the bulk of her problem fur.  When she sat or laid down, you could not tell she's been trimmed. Otherwise, she looked as if she sported a scruffy tutu.

This morning, we woke up to find the same quantity of fur littering the floor. Perplexed, my husband speculated that she must have a plastic bag of fur she scatters just to vex us.

Pearl

So I up and adopted a kitty! Her name is pearl and she is five years old. I saw her at the local Petsmart and fell in love with her scruffy mitten-pawed self. It took two weeks to muster up the resolve to pick her up, but I am so glad! Yay!!! Here she is, giving Tyoma the WTF side eye!

Pearl

vet appointment shelter 3/17/09

Dogs Are Pragmatic

Since baby was born, Misty has spent time at my parent’s place. She has close to an acre of sloped grassy yard to roam and cats galore to chase, not to mention the extra attention Mom and Dad lavish on her.

Misty’s first post-baby stay was almost three months long, punctuated by brief visits home. Since then, we have worked out a “visitation” schedule. Weekdays, Misty stays home with us and on weekends she stays with my folks. When I brought out the leash Friday morning, Misty did her usual berserk dance, following me impatiently until I buckled her in the front seat of my SUV (yes, she wears a doggie seatbelt).

Today was different from the scheduled doggie drop-off.  I hauled both baby and his carriage along for a stroll in my folk’s shady green backyard.  When I arrived, Dad was perched under the colossal mulberry tree, playing guitar and singing Tennessee folk songs.

My experiment with the stroller failed. Baby was not interested in touring the expanse of grass and trees. Instead, he insisted on sitting in grandma’s lap. Wearing a look of intense concern, the little one watched grandpa strum the guitar and sing.

All the while Misty ran and ran and ran, until her black flecked tongue quadrupled in size, hanging out of her mouth sideways. She eventually flopped down between mom and me, looking contented. It seemed perfectly sensible that the highlight of her week is a visit with my parents.

I remembered growing up in this huge, green backyard. I cavorted and collapsed much like Misty. Life is so peaceful under the cool shade of the mulberry; I think we’ll visit more often. 

The Mystery of Misty's Mishbehavior

Misty has been a bad dog. This past week, her old grass eating habits have reemerged and her barking has been almost unmanageable. In an unprecedented act of rudeness, she left a huge round wet spot in front of the bedroom door.

Usually, doggie transgressions stem from doggie angst. Why would her nerves be a wreck? Is the neighbor’s bloated tabby tomcat taunting her? Are the adolescent boys who peep at me throwing rocks again? Did the blue moon call forth an ancient and eldritch beast that exclusively menaces mongrel Border Collies?

Actually, the truth rather surprised me. Mid-afternoon, I tramped out back to reposition the sprinkler in our overgrown grassy area. A loud electric crackling startled me. It was the kind of loud, threatening noise you would encounter in a digitally re-mastered Frankenstein movie.

It repeated twice before I could pinpoint the source. A trio of roadrunners stalked the south wall. These were not the amiable cheeky sort of roadrunner that would permit an inept coyote to chase them for sport. These were the fierce avian successors of velociraptors, bold and territorial. The dominant male flared his crest and darted towards me audaciously, sizzling like a high voltage wire. Stupefied, I stepped back several paces.

The two smaller birds joined him expectantly, as if a major chase was about to commence. My heart skipped a beat. It was similar to the momentary terror you experience the instant a squirrel unexpectedly snatches a sandwich remnant off your plate at the park. When I recovered, I thought, “Damn! Where’s my camera?”

Of course, by the time I lugged it out, the show was over. The pursuer became the pursued. I captured a fleeting shot of the two smaller birds fleeing across the yard and a multitude of blurry photographs of the roadrunners treed in a mesquite bush. From the relative safety of the mesquite, the dominant male still flared his crest ominously and continued to sputter hostilely. No wonder Misty was freaked out.

Camera shy.

 
I swear he was more sinister in person! You can see a second R.R. blurred in the background.

 

Health Scare for Misty

Naturally with all the scary news about contaminated pet food, I've kept one eye on Misty and the other on CNN. Despite her not eating any of the tainted brands, each day seems to widen the number of toxic foods, so vigilance seems in order.

While washing the morning dishes, I spotted Misty straining away in our grassy area. She looked normal to me and I made a mental note to pick up the poo before watering the yard. An hour later I toddled out back to accomplish my almost forgotten task. I picked up the poo and spotted a silver dollar size reddish-black blob. I thought, "Hmm," and retreated to the house to answer Tyoma's squall.

As I changed diapers, I began to ruminate over the spot, wondering if it was blood. I plopped my freshly dressed baby into his playpen and dashed outside, q-tip in hand. It was definitely blood. Since Misty seemed unperturbed, I searched for reasons to account for the mucousy blood. Drawing a blank, I quickly consulted our giant book of veterinary care, which suggested an immediate call to the vet's office.

I called. The alarmed receptionist said to keep a close eye on Misty, and to bring her straight in if she voided anymore blood. In the meantime, the she would find an afternoon spot for an appointment. Ten minutes later, the answer to my question made an appearance. The sleek young cat that haunts our property looked desperately unwell, retching on an adjoining fence. He vomited the bloody spot. I felt tremendously relieved yet sad for the unknown owners of the cat.

Misty's Surgery

Poor Misty went in for surgery today to have a cactus spine removed. The almost two inch long spine has been lodged in her chest for over three years but only recently altered its position dangerously. Instead of lying benignly along her ribcage, it flipped perpendicularly and is a hazard to her vital organs. Anyway, Misty is just fine and is recovering at my folks place where she can receive an abunbance of affection and my Mom's vet triage skills.

Vet Appointment

I took Misty to the vet today for her three years rabies vaccine and usual check up. I left home extra early to find their new location only to arrive fifteen minutes early to a huge and overcrowded waiting room.

For some reason, Misty's appointment had been scheduled on Tiny Dog Tuesday. Misty looked longingly at rabbit-sized chihuahuas and tender, fluffy Pekingese. Although she behaved admirably, in her doggy heart she would have gleefully savaged the other canine patrons.  Anyway, Misty is swell and showed the world her vigor by boldly pissing on their floor (I was shocked!!!).

Dognapped!

We Have your Dog

If you xpect to see her again in good health

and with only a few bad habits, wire 5 million

Rasbuckniks (84.50 American Dollars) to

'RC2007  account 69, Bank of Nigeria'

You have till Midnight tonight, otherwise !!!

The Dirty Hand

My folks have had Misty on and off for almost two months while I have been recovering from Artyom's birth. She's back at their place again while I recuperate from my recent surgery. Anyway, this email greeted my grumpy, pain-bedeviled self this morning and really cracked me up. Heh.

Misty Care Sheet For Dadfiend

Dad! Here's everything you need to know for Misty and our House while everyone is at the hospital:

Misty

Feeding

We feed Misty in the morning after we have eaten (she usually won’t eat before since she wants our food instead!). She gets a can of dogfood and two scoops of dry food mixed with a treat. 

Problem Foods

Avoid giving Misty eggs, milk products (including creamy soups, sour cream & yogurt), almonds, walnuts, pecans and chocolate.

Misty is fine with peanuts, all meats, bread, grains. She can have a small amount of beans and cheese (Velveeta cheese slices) without problem. You can give her as much doggie biscuits as you like, she tolerates them well.

Tummy Trouble

If you think Misty has tummy trouble, three things seem to help:

• Give her broth to drink, about ¼ of a cup every half hour to replace fluids. If you think she needs some energy, a spoon or two of honey is helpful.
• No people treats for two days (a few doggie treats are fine).
• Wait at least six/eight hours after her last bout of sickness to feed her. Skip the dry dog food and give her one can of dogfood, you can give her another six/eight hours later.

Hydration/Heat

Sometimes Misty forgets to drink enough water. Filling a quart jar with fresh water in front of her seems to help. On a very hot day, you might want to keep her in during the hottest hours. She will chase lizards until she drops!

Late Night Restlessness

If Misty rams around late at night (11pm-3am), wanting outside, chances are her stomach is upset. She usually wants to go outside to eat a mess of grass-- not to be sick. The grass she eats will cause vomiting. Watch her very carefully outside, she is terribly sneaky about grass eating. After a walk or two outside, we usually keep her in and toss a special “barf carpet” by the door if she gets sick.

If she doesn’t seem interested in sneaking away from you to eat grass, she might want to hunt neighborhood cats--especially if her tail and ears are up. This usually happens around the full moon.

Misty might want outside around dawn (430am on). This is normal.

Doggie Meds

We will give you some doggie calm meds for Misty. The dosage is ¼ tablet, although she can take up to one whole tablet. We have never given her more than ¼ tablet in a twelve hour period. The tabs seem to take 3 hours to reach a maximum effectiveness (they might not seem to work at all till then!), and then they last for another four to eight hours.

When we leave for the hospital, we will leave you a note/message with the time of the last dosage we gave her to keep you from dosing her too soon. You don’t need to give her any more meds unless you choose to. In fact, she may be just fine and not need any until we are ready to bring her home. We’ll give you call to dose her a few hours before I come home.

Misty’s Vet:            Dr. Calista 525-1000

                                    1080 Medpark Drive

Other House Stuff

You are welcome to come on over and watch dvds on our TV. I’ll leave you detailed instructions and hopefully have things set up for you.

You don’t need to worry about mail or the lights, but you are welcome to check on each.

Sunroom Flooding

• If the water is more than halfway up the sunroom floor, turn off the breaker switch to the sunroom. The switch will be marked in the laundryroom.
• We will leave our pump hooked up so all you need to do is plug it in if it floods. Plug the pump into the outlet with the blue tape on it. Or use the extension cord if the room is too flooded. Be sure to use chairs to keep the cord connections out of the water if you use the extension cord.
• The pump will need time to prime itself, this can take five-ten minutes. You can hasten the process by priming it in a basin filled with water that we will leave nearby.
• We will leave towels out in case you need them. If we forget, they are located on a cube shelf in the big closet in our bedroom (the one with the door on the south wall). Please don’t worry about cleaning up anything. E will be happy to have something to do when he comes home!

 Yay! Thank you!

Revenge

Most of Sunday afternoon we played “find the stench.” We emptied the trash and rid the refrigerator of suspicious leftovers. When we still could not locate the source of the evil smell, the horrid possibility of septic system trouble occurred to us.

Mid-septic tank panic, we realized that Misty had avenged herself for being excluded from Saturday’s rock hunt. She had rolled in something indescribably foul. As best as I can figure, she came across the excrement of a cat whose sole diet was rotten eggs and month-old cadavers.

The worse part of the ordeal was giving her a bath. Misty is a sweetheart when it comes to baths. She may look miserable and put upon, but she is well-behaved. Sacrificing my pristine bathtub to putrid cat-scat Misty was a nightmare that required copious amounts of bleach and scalding water (post-dog wash, of course).

After her thorough shampooing, Misty endured a half an hour of blow-drying and brushing. She was playful and enjoyed the attention. Next rock hunt, we’re dropping her off at Grandma and Grandpa’s.

Fish Picking

After a week of careful water balancing and monitoring, our aquarium was ready for new fish. I suggested a pair of Oscars, knowing full well that E despises them, but hoping I could sneak them in by using their scientific name (no luck). So I constructed a list of likely candidates based on size, aggressiveness and community living, while E looked at pictures from my horde of aquarium books. A half-hour of analysis resulted in E’s recommendation for a marine aquarium. It took me some time to recover from the horror of his suggestion, since a beautiful and healthy marine aquarium unquestionably requires a Ph.D. in Aquarium Science plus a six-figure income. After some debate (and another request for Oscars), we headed off to visit our local pet supermarkets.

Only one pet store in town existed when I was a kid. A mediaeval place called Jerry’s Pets--where I purchased many a scrawny newt and lanky salamander. An anathema to modern pet lovers, it was unsanitary, foul smelling and inhabited solely by animals of increasing decrepitude and disease. Remarkably, Jerry’s Pets had a monopoly on the industry until I reached highschool, when overnight the city seemed populated by competitors. Only one out of the almost ten stores was tolerable, the rest were regrettably Jerry’s clones.

The arrival of the pet superstores quickly changed that. This year Jerry’s Pets and the last of its former rivals closed due to the opening of a second pet superstore (Pet’smart). While I believe that big business wrecks local enterprise, and that only a devoted hobbyist can manage a superlative pet business, I’ll invariably frequent any clean, modern store with healthy stock.

Despite my preoccupation with the parameters of fish selection, beholding acres of colorful and vigorous fish restored my childlike wonder. Welcome to our new danios, gouramis and rainbowfish!

Farewell to Fish

Today, the last of our tinfoil barbs passed away. I will miss their googly eyes and spooky antics, especially since I feel responsible for their demise. I suspect that they outgrew their tank--four nine-inch fish in a 65 gall on aquarium is pushing capacity. Lately, it seemed as if they were continuously ill, covered with cottony scratches from ricocheting about the aquarium. Every fish owner knows the litany of water quality, filtration, aeration and medication necessary for healthy pets, and how frustrating it is when all your best efforts fail. I suppose a little death should not be so troubling. But it can nag at you. A piece of the world that you were responsible for is gone forever. This little failure generates thoughts of future bigger failures. When will I witness the deterioration and demise of a loved one, with the same feelings of impotence? Life continues despite your success or failure. Maybe that is why some people think that God must be forgiving. Actually, you have to forgive yourself. Maybe in a week or so I'll buy some new fish.