Update on Methos

I’m just going to copy and paste the update I put on FB.  This weekend has been exhausting and I am going to give the cat his meds and go to bed.

Yesterday was a long and exhausting day, and the outcome was not as positive as I was hoping. My beloved boycat Methos has an enlarged heart and fluid in his chest; essentially he is in early congestive heart failure, resulting froma  condition called HCM. They put him in an oxygen tent to help him breathe better and wanted to keep him overnight, but ( I will be completely frank because I know no other way) we could not afford the $1000 deposit, so they gave him more oxygen and because his distress is only mild right now, they gave him lasix to help get rid of the fluid on his chest and they allowed us to take him home. I asked the vet repeatedly because I wanted to be perfectly clear, if there is a chance that medication could manage the condition but to find out we need the echo of his heart to find out what kinds of meds would benefit him most. I want to give him this chance. IMG_4304.JPG I will call first thing tomorrow morning to set up a echo before we make a final decision. Thanks to everyone who has commented, contributed or shared our GoFundMe. If you can help, even a tiny bit, we appreciate it more than you know; if you can’t, do me a small favor and share this post. Right now I’m beyond pride; I just want to save my daughter’s best furry friend.

The Dog and I Tackle “Big” Issues

Dog, we need to talk…

I know what you’re thinking.  We talk all the time.  I talk, you talk, mostly neither of us listen.

But this is serious.

I know, we talk about serious stuff all the time… politics, religion, sexuality, human rights,  and refugees…well, I talk, and you lick yourself, or whatever.

…which in this case lends itself quite nicely to our discussion.  The little struggles in life.  They are little, but they are important.

We don’t talk about this stuff.  It’s not always pretty, but these things need to be talked about, dragged out in the light, kicking and screaming, if necessary, so people understand they don’t need to feel ashamed.

                                    Malachi:

Not nice?  Like... no walkies??  Or belly scratchin's?

Um. . . I have no idea what…

Well, for example, the struggle of finding just the right position to sleep in when all of a sudden the hair between your buttcheeks starts poking you…  What do you do?  You want to scratch the itch, but you don’t want to touch your buttcrack…

Marriage licenses-es?  What's that?  It sounds tasty.

Oh, ha!, that’s easy! I have tons of hair on my butt. I just lick it until it’s flat.

Buddy, even if I wanted to do that I couldn’t.  Us humans aren’t as flexible as you dogs are.  But if we were able to reach our heads down there, I still wouldn’t because… ugh, no.  Just, no.

Geez...fiiiine. You don't have to be all testy about it.

Prude… Fine, what’s next?

Well, like this morning, I was trying to sleep and the cat had worked his way under the covers…

What?!

Oh! Well, there’s your problem right ther-

No, I’m not finished.  He sleeps under there a lot…

MAL6

Yeeeah…we need to talk about that. You never let me on the bed, let alone under the covers.

Stay on topic, dog, we’re not talking about you.  Anyway, for some reason the cat kept wanting to groom me.  He’d lick my hand and I’d kinda push him away.

 

Well, that doesn't sound good.  No walkies...

Go on…

Geez, this is sort of weird…

 

. . .um

Hey, you started this…

Well, I rolled over on my side and was just falling asleep when he started licking my nipple…

What?!

Aw! What?! That’s gross! You let the cat-

I didn’t let him! It woke me right back up and I tossed his furry little butt out of bed!

Geez...fiiiine. You don't have to be all testy about it.

Serves you right. *I’d* never lick your nipple…

Uggh…  You know what?  I think we’ve talked enough for today.  Too much reality and truth can be… too much.

Happy Thanksgiving, Dog.  I love you.

Sugar Skull Salt and Pepper Shaker

Sugar Skull designs have actually become somewhat popular in American culture, often as clothing designs, artistic renderings, or even tattoo designs.  I am drawn to them personally for their juxtoposition of beauty with the seemingly macabre.  But sugar skulls are more than just a pretty knick-knacks to culturally reappropriate for cool tattoos and t-shirt. They are part of the traditional Mexican holiday celebration for Dia de [los] Muerta, (many cultures around the world have similar holidays to remember and honor the dead) and are part of a longstanding and wide spread celebration and remebrance of the dead.  Far from being a sad or somber day, Dia de Muerta is a festive occasion, and sugar skulls are created with specific deceased relatives or friends in mind, often even inscribed with their names, and then placed on the gravestone in the hopes that it might encourage the deceased to appear.

The other day a friend of my posted a picture on FB of some pretty sugar skull cat figurines and I thought, I must have those.  So I followed a link and found them on Etsy. And then I saw how much they cost, presumably because they were hand-painted, and I thought, well, shit, I can do that.  So I rehabbed my gramma’s old siamese cat salt and pepper shakers.  Additionally, I decided to make one of them specifically in honor of my departed Neeners.  (Neeners has been a bit of a hot topic around here this week.  My daughter saw a photo of Neeners on the refrigerator the other day and told me she “wanted Neeners,” and I had to explain to her that Neeners had already died quite a while ago, when Darling Daughter was still a baby.  The news did not go over well, and to tell you the truth, by the time I was done trying to comfort her, I was practically ready to cry myself…)

Anyway, the original shakers had a bit of gloss to them, so the acrylic paint I used kept wanting to peel off if I touched it the wrong way, but hopefully the coats of spray finish I put on it help with that. They aren’t quite as detailed as the ones I saw on my friend’s post, but I’m pretty proud of them for my first go around.  I think I’ll be on the lookout for all sorts of flea market cast-off to rehab now!

BEFORE

BEFORE

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AFTER

AFTER

Please Don’t Declaw!

I came across a comment on a friend’s post today from a girl who “wished her cat was declawed.”  I tried to nicely explain why she should not wish that.  I figured maybe she honestly didn’t know.

I have a neighbor who insists on declawing her beautiful white kitten.  I tried to reason with her, inform her.  She still insists.  Now I just want to smack her.  The argument “They are fine once they heal” holds NO water.

I know there are some people who swear that declawing doesn’t hurt the cat, but a human can have limbs amputated and be “fine,” too. It doesn’t mean they would want to! And that’s basically what declawing is to a cat.

Main_Graphic_Claws

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My cats tore up my couch too, but that was partly my fault for not providing them with their own vertical scratching surfaces. Besides, I guess it is a sacrifice we make when we decide to share our homes with an animal.

furniture

As I learn more about my chosen trade, which is dog training, I have become even more aware of just how selfish some humans have become about their pets.  We sometimes treat them more like accessories than the animals they are.  We expect them to adjust to our lifestyles withe little or no training.  We anthropomorphise them, pushing our ideas and values onto them.  We neglect their basic drives and needs (usually more out of ignorance than malice.)  Scratching is normal cat behavior.

One of my cats came to me already declawed and I am still angry sometimes about what her previous owners did to her.  Her paws are sensitive.  She has litterbox issues, (which has been correlated to declawing.)  Declawing is illegal in a lot of places, but I have been heard before that some vets still perform the procedure simply to pacify the owner and (hopefully) keep another cat out of the shelter for what is essentially a non-reason.

So for anyone who is considering declawing their cat, I beg of you , please do some research and reconsider.  Especially now, there are other, more humane options (nail caps, for one.) If your furniture is more valuable to you than your pet, maybe you should reconsider whether sharing your home with an animal is what you really want.

Below (and within the article) are some links to more information about declawing.

 

http://www.declawing.com/

http://www.pawproject.org/faq

https://www.avma.org/KB/Policies/Pages/Declawing-of-Domestic-Cats.aspx

 

As promised…

Okay, I gotta be quick; my friend is graciously allowing me to use her phone as a hotspot. As promised, I saved up some blog posts for you on my hard drive and am uploading them now. Here is the first, and it is about none other than my dopey boy cat Methos. No time to link. If you’re curious, just type his name into the search bar on my blog. He is featured regularly.

Orig date:11/10/14
Clearly, my mother was right, and I have no fucking common sense. (Don’t tell her I said that.)
The cats have fleas– big, ugly, brown, hoppy bastards! We got some of that Hartz stuff and put it on their necks. (One of my vet tech friends told me I might as well have spit on them.) Maybe it’s worked some…maybe…but not fast enough. The cats (especially Methos–) have been driving me batshit with their scratching and biting and flaking bits of scabs and flea junk all over the place. Hubby and I are getting bitten. Darling Daughter prob is too, but she’s too happy being four to notice or care.
So yesterday my friend told me to salt the carpets and vacuum after 12-24 hours and she also gave me the [dubious] advice to bathe the cats in Original Dawn. Now, some of my more regular readers may already be shaking their heads and chuckling. They are no doubt recalling what I myself managed to forget (it was probably a defense mechanism,) and that is the traumatic event that was the last time I attempted to bathe Methos.
Don’t get me wrong; I knew it would be brutal. I even bought a pair of rubber dish gloves in preparation, a lame attempt to protect mine or my husband’s hands, (whoever was unlucky enough to have to hold him in the water,) until the fleas try to jump ship, so to speak.
Supposedly animals have three responses to fear; flight, fight, or freeze. With Methos, it’s fight and flight, and fuck up anyone in the way. He seemed to believe, despite our having taken loving care of him for almost eight years, that we intended to drown him– either that, or the water was lava.
Hubby had the gloves, (Methos still bit the shit out of him) and I ended up bleeding. DD wasn’t hurt at all but she still ended up screaming, in sympathy I guess, (sympathy with us or the cats, I don’t know.) I don’t think anything but his legs and tail even got wet. We chucked him in the cat room and shut the door, leaving him to recover emotionally.
Chloe was easier. She chose freeze (and cry.) Still, her undercoat never got wet. There was not a single flea in the water from either cat, but both were wet and upset, and we decided to just take the flea comb to them to see what we’d come up with.
As you may have guessed, the cats still have fleas.

Puppy…er, Kitty Pile

My best friend’s cat got pregnant before she could get her altered.

Er, her cat(s), I should say…

The big, mainly white Calico is the mama of the kittens.  She also happens to be the mama of the other Calico, who, in case you can’t tell, is majorly pregnant.  Tonight, while Mama was nursing her kittens, her pregnant daughter also seemed to want to be as close as possible.   At one time, it even looked like she tried to nurse too!   She also seemed to be very concerned whenever the kittens (her half siblings?) cried.  I can’t say I have a HUGE amount of experience with pregnant kitties, but I have seen my share of young kittens nursing.  Yet I have never seen anything like this.  The younger Calico is normally very shy of people, but tonight, she not only stuck close to her mother and the kittens (even allowing them to attempt to nurse from her) but she also allowed us to pet and handle her.

photo: Cynthia Gemmill

photo: Cynthia Gemmill