Milkymilk

A Cat Named Snickers and Some Technical Difficulties

It has been mini-tragedy central in these parts the last few days.  Some highlights include:

Harper fell off a bridge at the playground, about a 4 or 5 foot fall.  She does not even have a bruise to show for it, thankfully. 

Harper, while playing with the home phone, called 911.

Saturday night, Harper woke up 3 times during the night.  Shut up!  I know!  The girl has been sleeping through the night for about 9 months, and then *POOF* newborn sleeping pattern.  Oy, she is back to normal now, but I have no idea how we are going to do that all over again in March.  What have we gotten ourselves into?  Is there boarding school for newborns?  Surely they have that here, in Connecticut.

I realized I'm about 4 1/2 months pregnant, not 3 1/2 like I thought.  This is good in that I'm not as much of a fatty as I might have thought, but bad in that, well, for reasons above.

I tried playing with my blog layout, which backfired.  Now I have opened a can of worms of technical problems.  Awe hell, if it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?  (Goodness, that grammar surely just got our newborn 'wait listed' for boarding school.)

This all was stressing me out a bit, or just causing a constant state of angst and frustration.  So, I went in search of a kitten, like I don't have enough on my plate with a toddler, a baby on the way, an 80 pound mutt, and a bunny killing kitty.  That is when I found Snickers, and suddenly life seemed a lot better.  I have so much to be thankful for, for example, I'm not allergic to cotton.  Snickers is Cat of the Month at Stamford Animal Control.  You can learn more about her here, here, and enjoy this little bit of info:

We know this is a horrible photo of Snickers.  But, we wanted to get her up on the web as our featured cat of the month.  Snicker's is going through an awfully rough time right now. She was first given up when her owner died and family members could not care for her.   She is a wonderful cat, sweet and affectionate and we don’t want to give up on her just yet.  We know there may be the perfect home for Snickers.

We have learned through testing that Snickers is allergic to the following things:
 
Beets
Corn
Dairy
Oats
Cedar
Mug Wart
Black Ants
GRASS
COTTON
 
OK, we realize the first 7 items will be easy to control, however Grass and Cotton may be a challenge. Snicker's most suitable home may be one where there are primarily wood floors or one with wool blend carpets (so many carpets might contain cotton) and one with central air so the grass pollens in the summer won't affect her. And of course a special diet of good food, made without corn or dairy.   There are now many varieties on the market that don’t contain these ingredients.  Snickers is a wonderful cat and we hope someone will have just the right home for her. 

at a loss

We found out last week Skanky had cancer.  It was in her stomach and liver, and the vet did not recommend trying to treat it.  His recommendation was in part because Skanky had given up on eating.  She had, "lost the will to live."

(This pretty picture is a random flickr fave, OKARA COOKIE.)

I thought I would face her death bravely.  I thought I would not be afraid to sit by her side as she left us.  I brought her home, where she could be comfortable.

After about three weeks without food, she became very frail.  She got pink eye in her right eye, then her left, too.  Yesterday, she could barley stand, and I could not watch her suffer.

We took her to the vet this morning.  Skylar and I stayed with her while she went peacefully to sleep.

In the end, I'm sure she would have preferred to have died alone, hiding in the woods in the yard.  It was an invasion of her privacy, because she is a cat and needs lots and lots of personal space.  And, though it is best that her suffering is over, it was selfish of me to want to be there for it.  I just could not stand to think of her out there, alone.  Oh well.  Any way you go about it, death is just down right awful.

As if by Magic

Just to recap my week last week:

Tuesday:  Skanky disappeared, presumed dead.

Wednesday:  Harper fell off bed, large lump on her head, had to be monitored for 24 hours (by monitored, I mean I had to wake her up though out the night to make sure she was not, you know, dieing of a head injury.)

Thursday:  Due to his fear of thunder storms, he dog chewed a HUGE hot spot on his back.  Constantly asking me to scratch his open wound.

Friday:  Found a gray hair.

Saturday:  Forgot I let the dog out.  He was found on a near by highway by a very compassionate, even if unhappy, Mercedes driver who let our 80 lbs. open wound dog in his car.

And all week Skylar was saying, "Oh, baby.  Next week will be wonderful."  And I'm thinking, I can't sleep without my cat, my aging gray hair is only the beginning of the end, and I am never ever going to scratch his wound no matter how many times this dog asks me.

Then today, Harper and the dog and I were playing in the back yard.  Harper wanted to play in the neighbor's yard, because they have more concrete.  We have no fence, so we followed her.  There we are, all enjoying the vast driveway.  I turn to my right, and there, laying on a bag of mulch, is SKANKY!

SPANKY LIVES!  

I thought I was hallucinating at first, but it is true!  She is here!  We go back to the vet in the morning for more tests.  Keep your fingers crossed.

We have no idea where she was for the last 6 crazy rainy days, and true to form, she is not telling.  Oh, and Skylar was right.  If last week was the worst ever, today was the best day ever ever, ever ever.

I thought love would last forever

We changed Skanky's name to Spanky, to make it more PG for Harper.  We did not want to have an awkward conversation with one of her buddy's parents one day about how they have no idea where Harper learned vulgarities such as "Skanky Kitty," but she is no longer welcome for play dates.  It seems it was a problem we would not of had to face.

A month ago Skanky lost her appetite.  She was a soft cat, and by soft I mean chubby.  Her life was devoted to eating, sleeping and cuddling.  I took her to the vet when we were still in Chicago.  They ran tests.  She peed out some bladder stones.  They changed her diet.

She lost interest in food again.  I took her to the vet here.  They ran more tests.  The results called for more tests.  Skanky stopped eating entirely a week ago today.  She would just stay in bed with me at night, and in my closet during the day.

On Tuesday she came down stairs.  I thought she must be feeling better, to be up and about like that.  She even asked to go outside.  I let her out.  She has not come back.

Skanky is from the San Francisco SPCA.  It is like the most ridiculously posh animal shelter imaginable, and she is, or was, the most posh kitty.  Her paws felt like they had only ever touched velvet when I brought her home 13 years ago.  A mouse once died of natural causes in her presence.  She is not a survivalist, and does not wonder much further than the front porch when she goes outside.  In other words, she was not feeling better on Tuesday.  She felt it was her time to go.

Any-who, I'm sure reading about some lady's cat dying is not what you wanted to do today.  I could bore you with how much I love my cat, and how much I will miss her, and how it has been nothing but a bowl full of tears in the home since Skanky left.  Of course I love her, and I am sick just thinking about her out there, where I can't help her or comfort her, or say good-bye.  Goodness.  These things have managed to cheer me up a bit, and maybe they will make you smile, too.

Dog Brownie Fail

Felted Baby Yoda Hat

Pie on a Stick

She was a friend to all, a loving sweet kitty with impeccable manners.  She was everything I ever wanted in a cat; cuddles and naps and snacks.  We will miss her and love her always.

Taming the Beast, a very little cute beast

We sold our stroller.  We just wanted to get one we can convert to a double someday (no, I'm not pregnant,) and one that is a jogger.  As soon as it was sold, Skylar and I got ridiculously sentimental and teary eyed about it.  Who knew we could be that nostalgic about an object we have only spent a year and a half with?

The cats.  Yes.  They knew.  They knew because since about the time we got the stroller, they have been demoted.  They were my babies before.  Now, when looking for pictures of them for this post, I had to go back almost two years.   

We spent the day together yesterday.  I took them to get their shots, oh so sad.  Spanky is a dream at the vet, friendly, docile, agreeable.  She has lost 3 pounds since Harper became mobile, leaving her to be a very healthy 13 pounds of loving snuggles.  

Trixie, on the other hand, is six pounds of hell, fire and damnation.  I've seen large, strapped, grown men at the vet's cower away from her, as if she was Rosemary's baby.  (We are talking about a cat that kills bunnies.)  Normally, once she has been taken out of her carrier, they bring out the 'angry cat  protector' gloves.  These are thick leather, or rubber, and come up to the elbow.  They are no match for the cat.  Next, either she is restrained in a pillow case, or taken to the back room where her screams can be heard for blocks.  It is not pleasant.

Yesterday, was a different story.  Maria Manrigue, D.V.M, tamed the beast.  She showed no fear, she did not pull out the gloves.  Trixie hissed and spit and arched her back, and Dr. Manrigue did not flinch.  She gave the cat her exam and shots, and escaped unharmed.  The woman is obviously a saint.  If you are looking for a vet, or need to perform an exorcism, I would highly recommend her.     

No. Touch. Kitty.

On the phone with my mom today, she said she wished she had a recording of the conversation so she could play it for Harper when she is ten.  Unfortunately, we have no phone tap.  I guess we can perform a reenactment using this script:   

Mom:  Hello. 

Me:  Hi. Mom:  

What is going on?  You sound like you are either laughing or crying. 

Me:  Both.  I think I gave Harper a black eye. 

Mom:  Don't you hate that!  It is amazing they survive what you put them through.  When I think of what I did to your oldest brother, Will.  

Me:  It is not like I dropped her.  Harper, no.  I was carrying her into the living room.  She leaned out at the wrong time, I didn't stop fast enough, and her head hit the door frame.  No touch kitty. 

Mom:  Is she o.k.? 

Me:  She is fine.  She barley cried.  Kitty does not like that.  But it is her first Christmas, and, oh, the pictures. 

Mom:  Makeup. 

Me:  Harper, no.  She looks like Rocky.  Harper.  No. 

Mom:  Well I guess you can't put a steak on a baby's eye. 

Me:  Spanky does not like that.  No. Touch.  Kitty. 

Mom:  And, you probably don't have a steak.  (See as how you don't eat meat.)  What about frozen peas? 

Me:  We moved all our food to the basement freezer to make room Harper No for the cookies.  HarperNo.  HarperNo.  We have teething toys, but she won't hold still.  Notouchkitty Notouchkitty. 

Mom:  You sound like you are busy. 

Me:  RUN SKANKY, RUN! 

Mom:  I would just go with the make up. 

Me:  O.k.  Love you. 

Mom:  Love you, too.  Bye.   (Sorry for the lack of a picture.  I'll get my act together soon.)