Video Fun and Writing Joy

Just a little something I filmed today.
I love my cats.

I've been making progress on my novel. I've never gotten this far before. Usually I get stumped by the setting I've chosen, or I get lost in my plot because I've taken it somewhere I don't know how to resolve. This time things are working. It helps I like my character. I decided not to define her in any way, just let her say or think what comes naturally and let her personality unfold the way it wants to.

I've been trying these days to eke out creative fulfillment in my life. And now that I'm rapidly approaching 30, I really feel pressure to end my 20s with something in my hands, a completed manuscript. For once.

And maybe all my previous failures to write have simply been due to inexperience. I've been writing a lot these past few years. Maintaining a blog challenges me to put thoughts, ideas and feelings into words on a regular basis. It's like any muscle. You don't use it, you grow weak.

My drawing muscle, for instance, has softened. I can still do it. The ability doesn't go anywhere, but it's no longer something that is honed and nimble. I struggle a bit more. I used to be able to whip up drawings of any sort of character without a thought, like improv. Now? I have to think. And the finer techniques have grown shoddy. Working on my aunt's children's book has been useful, but it's taken a lot more effort than it would have years ago.

But writing is something I've been working on, and I have far more life experiences to draw on than in years past. I've gotten to a point where I feel so comfortable with the written word that breaking the rules is fun and enjoyable. Sentence fragment. See? Delightful. Heh.

Seriously, though, I suppose what I'm saying is I'm not wrapped up in my head as much as I used to be about the rules and the details and it's flowing a bit more organically. It's enjoyable. It's work, but it's satisfying.

I think about my character a lot, what's going to happen to her, what must've happened to her, how she'll react to the coming challenges, and I feel excited.

2012 is going to be the year I write a book.

Bye-bye, kitties

The weekend of Dude family fun is here. We're getting picked up in 20 minutes to head to our hometown for two showers hosted by his mother at one and his stepmother at the other. Being at the centre of things in someone else's family is an odd experience, thought they'll be my family too, soon enough. And they're good people. I'm lucky in that way. I've heard some bad tales of woe about in-laws from other people, and it's always issues that began well before the wedding, but which escalated afterward. I don't feel at all concerned about this sort of thing.

It's going to be a lot of socializing, and we're leaving our kittens behind for the first time. They've grown into very affectionate kitties and I'm really going to miss them. I'm also a little concerned about them getting anxiety and acting out about it. Think urinating in the wrong places, vomiting, scratching. But we have McPal and his fiance coming to care for them, which is a load off my mind.

I'm pretty fussy about my kittens. I heart them to pieces. And that's what I love about cats, is that they're made to be spoiled. The more you indulge them, the happier and better behaved they are, which is stark contrast to other dependants, like dogs and children.

Oh, it's time to go... bye, kitties! Be good!

I'm such a suck.

Found!

Oh my God, we found Sprinkles. I was in misery and then in a moment I was joyous. Such is the power pets hold over their owners. Or for cats, the power they hold over those they own.

We had given up for the night. It was dark, chilly and she's a calico, which meant excellent at blending into surroundings. It was hopeless.

I went upstairs a little after midnight to grab something from the old apartment and I heard a thud. Akin to "That sounds like a silo tipping over," I thought, "That sounds like a kitten jumping off a surface onto the floor!" I turned around and there was Sprinkles peeking out of the bedroom doorway. My heart sang, it really did.

We had worked out that after she ran out, she then crept into the hole under the stairs and stayed there. At some point, much like the ninja she is, she snuck back into the apartment and had been hanging out there for some time. What a character. Had me in tears and depressed and worried, and all along she was safe and avoiding us.

When I went to her, she was spooked still. The move was unsettling, the strange person in the house was frightening (she is not fond of men), and she was not interested in anything I had to offer. I eventually cornered her, took her in my arms and snuggled her against her will.

I took the squirmy kitty down to the Dude, who had passed out on the couch and woke him up while holding Sprinkles. She was dusty and wide-eyed, he was confused and then relieved and completely jazzed. She and Bea have been exploring the new place and seem to have adjusted, though Sprinkles is still a little extra skittish.

I can't imagine how parents feel when their child goes missing. I mean, I was sobbing and in agony over a cat I've had three months. We let the Dude's brother know we found her. Her said it was a good Friday. And it is.

As for the apartment, more things are unloaded and moved down. We need a whole lotta stuff to make this place work for us. It's gonna be expensive. And now I'm feeling extra happy I've already put down deposits on wedding stuff while I had extra monies and was able to get finite numbers of what stuff costs. For the next few months, we're going to be needing furniture.

Man, if we were 23 we'd be looking for milk crates and begging off old crap from family. Now I'll be looking to finance some condo furnishings from The Brick. I feel old.

Now I'm off to my hometown for some Easter goodness. Lent is almost over and I can have cake. The Dude is staying behind to be useful, god love him. It's been one hell of a week.

Lost

Today has been terrible. In every way things could have gone wrong, they did.

Sprinkles is missing. When the couch was being moved, the underneath area being her favourite spot to hide, she zoomed out. The Dude's brother tried to interact with her, but she wasn't having it. So she made a break for it to the bedroom. Well, there was no bed in there and when the Dude went in the bedroom, she darted past him, down the stairs, through the open door... and the front door was open.

We all thought it was closed. Sprinkles was gone. I seriously freaked out. I'm still freaking out. I can't stop thinking about her. I love her. I can't stand thinking that I might never see her again. Holding Sprinkles, with her sweet face and her spunky tail and her pathetic meow is one of the nicest things I do with my day.

We all looked for her, but I knew in my heart it was pointless. She's so easily spooked. She's this squirrelly ninja kitten and you can't sneak up on her. She loves to run away from you. Approaching her is not happening. She has to decide to come to you, her way or the highway. But still, we looked under cars and around homes and in the alley. The Dude and his brother went well around the block and couldn't see her.

She could be anywhere in the neighbourhood. She could be close by. I'm really upset. I don't think someone will be able to pick her up easily, Sprinkles being a total spaz, but what if she gets hungry and can't find her way home? What if she gets hit by a car? What if she fights with other cats or a raccoon? She's only half a year old and she's never been outside before.

This whole move has been a wretched experience. I just want to crawl into a corner and sob. All I can think about is how much I want my Sprinkles back.

Sprinkly

A cat lady is born. They can't be made, you know. I was a cat child, then a cat girl, and at the age of 28, I am a bona fide cat lady.

Kitties for keeps

I will never understand people who don't love animals. Some animals don't lend themselves to love, granted, like reptiles or insects, for example. (Ha! As I was writing this, Sprinkles hopped on my keyboard and deleted my last sentence.) But mammals are inherently loveable. They bond to other mammals and that's endearing as heck. (Speaking of endearing, Sprinkles is now playing with Bea's tail.)

The Dude and I have now put in five weeks with our kittens. They were shy, introverted and skittish. They've really blossomed into sweet kitties who now eat, sleep and play in front of us. They'll now allow us to hold and pet them. They have recently begun to seek out love. That's my favourite part.

It's been an effort. We've essentially been taming them. We've been making them our kittens. They now know and trust us. And now no one in the world loves them like we do. It's not just the cuddles and the hilarity of watching your pets' antics. It's the relationship. It's such a simple one of caretaker and benefactor, but it's rewarding and satisfying. The goal of cat ownership is to make the cat as happy as possible.

Dogs need to know their place in the order of things. Rabbits need security and routine. Parrots need companionship.

Cats need worship. The more you spoil your cat, the better cat you'll have. The more it'll seek you out, rub against your legs, jump on your lap, sleep with you at night. I like that about them. You can't spoil a dog too much or the dog will spoil you (mostly your furniture). You can't spoil a child or you'll create a monster. But any urge you may have to indulge or pamper another living creature can be channelled into a cat and will create a more loving and affectionate kitty. In fact, the less you spoil your cat, the less your cat will want to do with you.

I have a nurture instinct. I want kids, and I don't believe in spoiling children. But the free-for-all in fussing over my kittens is very satisfying. And I'll admit it, it's also a way of having dependent and loving little creatures to care for in the absence of having my own kids. But even after I do have them, my kitties will have their place. When you devote this much time and energy into creating love, it's for keeps.

Things to do in hibernation

Another one of my late-night posts, brought to you by insomnia, the chill throughout the apartment, and the letter H.

Seriously, this place is chilly. And there's extreme cold afoot in this city. 'Tis a chilly time to be alive. We have a heater that runs in the living room and with the new kittens getting used to the place, we have the door shut. This traps all the lovely heat in here, but unfortunately leaves the rest of the apartment in a sort of arctic deep freeze. No, no, that's being dramatic. It's more of a gentle frost.

Either way, it's about 15 degrees out there if not less and that's mighty damn cold for indoors. So I can't bear to leave the living room because it's too pleasant in here. Plus this is where Beatrice and Sprinkles are.

Life with the kittens is lovely. They play and pounce and Sprinkles probably has ADD. We've progressed to being able to hold and cuddle them and in a couple more days we'll introduce them to the rest of the apartment. Hopefully they'll sleep in bed with us after awhile. Nothing beats kitty snuggles in a warm cozy bed.

I haven't been leaving the house much, mostly because of the weather, but I did get out on the coldest day of the year for the Tim Burton exhibition downtown and managed to get filmed from afar by the CBC for a story on the holy frozen shit weather we were having. McPal was there and his stink eye to the camera was captured centre stage. Well done, sir!

I've been doing some online shopping and perusing to find things I want for my wedding. I've found all the decorative items I want, plus beauty things, and potentially a cake. Back in the day I would have had to tromp about the city in the snow, but thanks to the information age I can browse reviews of various vendors and narrow my choices. I've gotten to a point where shopping online has become a science. I've been burned a few times, but with practice I've had that experience less and less.

Actually, I found my kittens on the internet. I love technology.

The quest of foibles

I think I already love the cats, and I'll tell you why.

So today I had to work, but I checked in on the kitties to see how they were doing. Got more of the old hide routine, and Miss Bea had lodged herself through the barriers the Dude and I had placed around the couch.

We had shooed them out from under there and blocked off all the ways to escape back into the space. Their eyes had grown a little watery from the dust under there, and we didn't want them breathing all that crud in. So one of the barriers was a blanket we'd stuffed in the crack between the couch and the floor. Well, this morning Bea found a way in.

So I looked up other options. If we couldn't keep them from hiding under there, maybe we could make the room more enticing to be in. I made some calls to pet stores and found a plug-in scent thing that releases what is a calming natural odour that is supposed to mimic happy cat pheromones.

So I made a call. I would take an hour off work, walk to this pet store 20 minutes away, stop by this indie cafe to try a coffee en route, get the stuff at the store and trek home. It was damn hell ass cold, but I figured I could use the walk and I didn't want to waste tokens, as I only had two left.

So I'm out there, bundled and losing my face to the frost and I reach the cafe 10 minutes after my iPod died on me. I reach into my purse and realize I forgot my wallet at home. So far a very disappointing and irritating start to my quest. I'd already been out for nearly 20 minutes. So I walked back and arrived at home almost 40 minutes later from when I left completely empty-handed and chilled to the pancreas.

But I think about the kitties and don't want it all to be for naught, so I grab my wallet and head back out. Only this time I take the subway because I can't face the freezing walk of already-covered and re-traced ground. Plus I have to get back to work. So I go in the station and see that the train is delayed. I watch the train on the other side come and go for awhile, and finally my train arrives.

When I'm on the train I hear the next station announcement and realize I'm going the wrong way. Yes, out of habit I went to my familiar, regular side of the side of the station and went east. And then I thought of all those westbound trains I saw go by, that I could have been on. So I get out, cross the station, get on the next train and make my way in the right direction.

The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful. I got my coffee, I got my plug-in scent, and for good measure I also bought a cat bed and another dangle toy. And you bet your ass I took the TTC back. And what should have taken shy of an hour took me nearly two.

And I don't resent any of it. And the cats aren't out of hiding yet, and I'm feeling patient. And with this patience and the going out twice in the cold and spending another $70 without thinking, I know I love them. The Dude and I, we got a lotta love to give these critters. We just have to wait.

The first 48

It's so weird! We have kittens, but it's like we don't. They're under the couch. There's enough space under there for them to play and nap comfortably, so they're hanging out there a lot. Sometimes I forget we adopted any kitties. But it's been less than 48 hours since we brought them home. Patience is the key.

And they came out and played last night. Oh man, it was to die for. The Dude and I watched and tried not to make sudden moves while they explored the living room and scampered about and lunged at the scratching post. They have to come out to eat, drink and use the litter, and they're getting a wee bit bolder about it.

I guess it's just them learning how to trust us. They look over their shoulders constantly when they eat or pee, like they're nervous we'll come disturb them. At first if we made any eye contact at all they would scurry off. Now they're okay with being watched while they play. We still can't pet them, though. We're waiting for them to get comfortable with us walking around first, because as soon as we're up, they're outta here.

I'll post pictures when more are available. On Facebook I threw up some ones the Dude took to appease my supportive friends who were begging for some kitten pictures. But I'll hold out till we have some proper ones.

Sprinkles is very bold and frenetic about her play. Beatrice is more reserved and cautious. They cuddle each other under the couch. I'm already loving them. Once they let me pet and hold them, I'm pretty sure I'll be a goner for these cats pretty much for all time.

The Kitten Quest

Kitties!

So yesterday I had had enough waiting around for kittens to fall into my lap. I'd tried the bigger adoption agencies, but realized I needed to branch out. So this is what the Internet is for. Back in the day you had to go to the Humane Society or scour the paper or know someone who's cat gave birth. Now you Google.

So I Googled things like "kitten adoption" or "kittens for sale" and eventually came across an ad for a small-time rescue agency. She traps feral cats, gets them vet attention, fixes them and adopts them out. I saw pictures I really liked of two female kitties a few months in age and made a call. She asked me some questions about my pet-owning criteria (no declawing, how long I planned to keep them, past ownership) and she said I could get them that day.

And I was not prepared. And so of course I said yes.

We made an appointment to meet at her place for 9:00. I called the Dude to tell him I'd found us kittens. He was jazzed, being the cat lover he is, and we started strategizing. We'd rent a zip car to pick them up, I'd run out to withdraw the adoption fee and buy some supplies: litter box, litter scoop, food, carrier, toys...

We got totally lost en route to see them. My fault, my fault... There are a variety of reasons I don't have a license. My inability to understand directions is one of them. If it's straightforward, I'm okay. As soon as a road has something particular about it, an unusual turn or whatever, forget it. Just forget it. We had to call three times to sort it out. The Dude, god love 'im, was patient about it, if not a little unimpressed.

So we get there with the bright pink carrier I just bought and met the girls. They were shy and nervous, but not aggressive. Their faces were to die for and they were very soft. I was going to name the blonde-orange one Pumpkin, and leave the pastel calico to the Dude to name. He likes people names for pets and I like cliches.

But Pumpkin didn't seem to suit this blonde kitty and I named the calico Sprinkles. Yes, Sprinkles. Try saying that without smiling. It's impossible. And the blonde was named Beatrice. So it's Beatrice and Sprinkles, who are now living under the couch.

We've got their food, litter, toys and carrier in the living room. Once they're comfortable enough to leave their cave of dustbunnies, we'll start introducing them to the rest of the apartment. They've had quite an exciting life so far. First they were strays, then they went into a shelter, then into a foster home with a bunch of animals and then to the lady's house where we picked them up. And they only moved there a week ago. So they'll be needing some time to adjust.

So the kitten quest is over, and now it's time to earn some love. I keep thinking about that commercial about adopting pets and how the dog doesn't want to play ball and the voiceover says the best part about adopting a pet is when they adopt you. When they come out and trust us enough to want to get to know us, I'll be so happy. And then of course I'll have some pictures to share.

I want kittens

Oh man, I want kittens. I feel like I'm getting the runaround from the cat rescue agency I've been in contact with. The actual head of the organization is great. She gets back to me. But the foster owner I've been trying to connect with won't return my phone calls. I left one a week ago and it turned out she was out of town till Friday.

So Friday evening I called, figuring she may or may not wish to take a call, but no harm in trying. She sent me to voicemail, so I didn't leave another message. Then Saturday I made a call in the afternoon and did leave a message.

Now it's Sunday and she still hasn't returned my calls and I've been waiting a week to meet these guys. I won't post their picture yet because I don't want to get ahead of myself. But they're three months old and bonded and I feel very drawn to them. I miss feline companionship a lot.

It's frustrating. I'm the sort of person that would have taken the call Friday and would never make someone wait on me on the job. Not everyone's the same, but I can't help but feel put off that days are passing by and my calls are going unreturned by someone whose job it is to find these cats a home.

But there are happy things underway. We got the apartment downstairs. And we negotiated with our landlord, so we're only paying an extra $75 apiece for more room, a yard (!) and a real kitchen. Sweet happiness. I'm going to have an office, we're going to be connected to our laundry room, and we can grow a proper garden. There will be room for my six-person kitchen table, a suitable place for a litter box (If we don't have kittens by then, may God help us all), and the Dude will have an annex for his photography stuff.

2011 is going to be a good year: kittens, new place and an easy move, and the wedding. Damn, that's very adult sounding, isn't it? Though it could be more adulty. I could be pregnant and getting a mortgage. Not this year, yo.

Kitteny goodness

It's taking a lot of willpower not to adopt kittens. I miss Smokey so much and I want kitties in the house again. The lack of responsibility, I'll admit, is pleasant, but my cats were always worth it to me to have to buy their supplies, pay for vet visits, change litter and, in the end, give insulin injections.

My favourite thing was lounging in bed or on the couch with the Dude and the cats, and I'd feel like a happy little family. All my nurturing instincts are goin' nowheres. I want something fuzzy to cuddle.

But like I said, willpower. That and common sense. When we get home from Mexico (OMG leaving Sunday morning, w00t!!1) I am going to order my wedding dress, which means not having enough monies offhand to stock up on new kitten thingies. And then when we go to our hometown for Christmas, we'll stay for several days instead of rushing home early. It'll be the first time that's even possible for me since I was 20, when I first got my cats under my care alone. So of the few new advantages to not having a pet, it'd be stupid not to enjoy them.

But that doesn't mean I don't yearn for a furry meowing ball of joy to snuggle. Oh, I do.

I am aware I'm not over my Smokey. I still sometimes cry about him. It's only been a little over two weeks and I'm still adjusting. I keep expecting to see the litter box or the water dish and it still makes me sad when I remember they're not there.

I want to get cats that I'll be ready to appreciate for who they are, and not as replacements. I take pet ownership very seriously. So I'm not ready. And I'll continue to stifle my desires in the interest of being sensible. That doesn't mean I haven't been fawning over kitten adoption photos online, though. I'm sensible, not dead.

I likely won't post again till I get home from my trip. I intent to stay off the internet all week, otherwise I don't think it'll be much of a vacation.

Goodbye, Smokey

He's gone.

He couldn't hold out until Friday. We were sure he wouldn't last the night. He was unable to stand, he was unresponsive and his eyes wouldn't close when he passed into sleep. I held him for a long while on the couch. He melted into my arms and breathed slow breaths and I could feel his little heart beating. He was so skinny.

We knew we had to put him down tonight. He couldn't get to the litter anymore, he could no longer stand up to drink. He was not going to enjoy his last day alive at that rate. So we took him to the emergency vet clinic. We got there around 10:00.

Crying in a strange reception area, giving your information so strangers can end your cat's life is a terrible experience. Watching people watch you, sobbing while you say your phone number, confirming this is your final decision.

I walked into the room where the Dude and Smokey were waiting for me. Smokey was being examined and when it was over, he laid down and in an awkward position managed to rest his head on the Dude's arm. Then he relaxed and stayed that way till the end.

The Dude and I held Smokey and pet him, telling him he was a good boy. He was barely conscious, not really struggling to live, not really fighting death. He seemed peaceful as we waited. When the time came, I could barely notice as his life slipped away, he was so far gone already.

He kind of looked like he was smiling when we left. That's my Smokey.

I know I'll cope and move on. But something in me already knows I'll never fully stop missing him. He was my friend.

Smokey's Last Dance

If I believed in jinxing myself, I would not have written this last post about Smokey. He's dying. My old Smokey is on his way out. He's 17 and a half and he's showing all the signs. He's stopped eating, he's restless, losing mobility fast and he's less interested in attention and increasingly reclusive.

It started a couple days ago. I made the decision to not treat his symptoms or take him to the vet. He's old, too old for advanced medical attention. He's 86 in cat years and I wanted him to relax at home instead of being dragged out in the noisy street in a cat carrier to be needled and handled somewhere he doesn't like. He hasn't been in pain, from the looks of it. I'm the one who seems to be hurting.

But the Dude and I made an appointment for Friday for euthanasia. Smokey's ability to walk is failing him at a rate I can't let continue. It's heartbreaking to watch. I've been picking him up and putting him where he seems to want to go: near his water, close to the litter box, somewhere cozy. He's been crawling around this afternoon.

He's been quiet, eerily so, and yet still finds the strength to mew for ice cubes for his water dish. I love him so much.

He seemed interested in being on the couch with us, so the Dude picked him up and put him on the blanket beside me. He stretched out and rested his head on my leg. This cat has been everything I'd want in a pet. I don't want to do without him. I knew this day would come, but I never wanted to really think about it.

If you're reading this, next time you have a drink, raise a quiet glass for Smokey. I don't pray, and I wouldn't ask to keep him in one's prayers. But if it would be alright with you, toast him for me.

So Old

My cat is so old. He's so old that he has a specific way he likes his water. He's so old that after he uses the litter box, he cries and howls for me to bury it for him. He's so old his meow has turned into a rolling grumble, and he's missing five teeth, giving him a slightly gummy appearance.

He's cuddling me now. He'd be in bed cuddling the Dude, but he only does that if I'm in bed too. He's 17.5 years old. He's a creature of habit and he likes things the way he likes them.

He's actually a pretty big inconvenience. I have to make plans around being home for him, I can't go overnight with the Dude anywhere without accommodating his needs, and more frequently as the years go by his stream is not true when he uses the box.

And the thought of doing without him breaks my heart. Most cats don't live this long. Many do, but most don't. And most people nearing their 28th year don't have their childhood pets still living, never mind in their exclusive care. Smokey is my buddy, and a sort of lifeline to a life long past and gone. He just sighed in my arms while I wrote that. What a guy.

I'm still paying off his $1,400+ dentistry bill from the summer, from when I had to choose between putting him down or removing his ruined teeth to end his misery. Now I have more reason than ever to get it paid off, so I can incur other life choice debt. I wonder if he'll be around next fall. His hips are getting stiff, he's so feeble that if I cuddle him in a certain position he no longer can squirm out with ease, and of course there is his diabetes.

When I first got Smokey and Jerry when I was 10, I used to have nightmares about them getting old. Now it's here. It's not as sad as I thought it would be, but it is still a bummer.

Old cat, old tricks

The mouse in the apartment is still at large. Have I mentioned this before? I think I have. Yeah. Mouse in the house. Little bugger made its first appearance while Smokey was recovering from his oral surgery. Ever since I've seen it here or there. I chased it down the hall once. It took a hard left, fell over on its side, legs flailing in the air, and still managed to right itself and scurry off behind the stove.

And where was Smokey? Laying on a pile of the Dude's clothes on the bed. Relaxing.

So yesterday I'm on the couch and out of the corner of my eye I keep seeing movement. And then finally I see it, the mouse. It's under the coffee table and I lunge at it, and predictably it dove back under the couch.

I had given up on Smokey mouse hunting. He's 17 and half-toothless and I'm pretty sure his hearing is going. The Dude brought him into the living room anyway, just to see if the presence of a cat would mean anything to this mouse. Smokey sauntered onto my lap and curled up and got cozy. I remarked that my cat had become only a pet and not a mouse solution.

But then he lept very deftly from my lap and pounced in front of the couch. He then skulked around, maneuvering skillfully and with purpose. He attempted several tactics to try and get the mouse to come out. Years fell away from his face and body. Smokey meant business. It was awesome. I felt so proud of him. Funny isn't it? Proud of a cat for being a cat?

Well, I was. Just when I'd figured he was old and retired from life, he surprised me. How I love that cat.

Smokey the practice run

I think caring for Smokey sometimes gives me a taste of motherhood. He woke me up several hours early this morning insisting on being fed wet food. I know that's what he was angling for. It's the same bang-your-head-against-the-wall experience every time it's been introduced in this house. He goes bananarama for it, disregards all feeding schedules and every time you so much as shift in your seat, he thinks you're getting up to go to the kitchen to feed him.

Well, he's been on it for a week because of his oral surgery, but enough's enough. I'm out of it and I'm not getting anymore. A week of recovery should be enough, considering I'm still giving him his painkillers. This cat, man. I love him terribly and often I want to throw him out the window.

So he's back on dry food. He's eating it, and I'm not giving in to his whining. I look forward to someday again being able to open the fridge without him losing his shit over it.

So since I couldn't get back to sleep, I made use of my time and cleaned the apartment. As it turns out, I'm very motivated to do grunt work early in the morning. Who knew? I certainly didn't. I can never really get going on work-work until about 10 or so and then I can hit my stride, mostly because if I poke around anymore, I'll have a hard time finishing.

But somehow housework felt like procrastinating at my job, which spurned me on. Wild. Well, no, not really wild. Actually it's just a mediocre coincidence about something mundane. Such is life, and possibly another look into motherhood. Being a parent must really fill you with an incredible amount of love to be able to keep on doing it, because frankly sometimes when I get these whiffs of what it must be like, I start to re-appreciate my vacant uterus.

There is some sort of daycare of sorts a few houses down. I see them in their yard from my top floor deck occasionally. I found them super obnoxious. Not the children, the adults. I watched for awhile and realized everything they did was structured. What ever happened to free play in children? Why don't some adults realize that anything they have to offer in the world of play is pointless compared to what children learn and discover playing freely with other children?

It's like the cornerstone of learning how to connect with your peers. It's a lot of trial and error and roughhousing and conflict and imagination at work. Why take that away? It's so arrogant and unnecessary. It's like they have no faith in these kids to figure it all out. Or they think children should never be bored.

Boredom is awesome. It makes you entertain yourself. It gives you time to think and imagine and reflect. Some of the best time I had as a kid was the time I spent alone, devising my own games, working out my own thoughts, reading, teaching myself to draw. If kids are always being given directions and following instructions for how to play, how are they ever going to figure out who they are, what they really want, or how to relate to their peers on a deeper level?

For all the drudgery that is parenthood, I do look forward to being the kind of mother I'd want my child to have and to provide a childhood I think would be beneficial. Beyond the boring everyday tasks, I think actual parenting would be satisfying.

Love ain't free

I wrote about taking care of a geriatric cat when Jerry got sick. But this is a little different because Smokey's not dying, he's just really effing old. So, he had five teeth pulled. Five. Five cavities causing pain. Can you imagine that? Animals are so stoic. I'm vocal and irritable when I have a mild headache or if it's too hot. Smokey is such a trooper. Though it explains all the late night caterwauling.

So out they went to the tune of $1400. Oh yes. So now I have a line of credit. I never needed one before. Now I do, for a cat. I really didn't have a choice. I could have let him suffer or I could have had him put down or I could take care of the problem and let him live a continuing quality life. But still. Ouch.

Anyone ever seen a cat with chipmunk cheeks? 'Cause that's what Smokey's got on one side. It'd be adorable if it wasn't so pathetic and sad looking.

So I still give him his two insulin shots a day, plus now I have to give him wet food (so no more relying on the automatic feeder), two doses of codeine cream a day, and two antibiotics a day. Good grief. Love, man. I love that damn cat.

He's been sleeping a lot, recuperating and generally making himself scarce. I think because he feels weak and doesn't want us seeing him like that. Some animals tend to get weird about showing weakness. Unfortunately, this means a mouse that has been mainly living downstairs has grown large enough cajones to make himself at home up here. Our little sentry is compromised and this damn mouse took advantage of it.

In other May news, our place has central air, but the downstairs neighbour's apartment is cool and they don't need it. Up here it's like the inside of a hot air balloon. We have ceiling fans going, plus two more in whatever room we're in. It's still not enough. I'd buy a portable air conditioner if I wasn't paying off Smokey's vet bill.

Being a grownup sucks.

My favourite

The week is whirling by in a sea of crappy weather and no groceries. I wonder if the Dude and I will ever grow up enough not to let the house run out of food. This just keeps happening. We have to go together, to have enough arms to carry all the food home. So that's probably why we keep screwing it up.

Anyone ever take their cat to the dentist? Smokey's going on Monday. Well, he's going to the vet's for a dental consultation because I think he's experiencing tooth pain. But I like to call it the dentist.


I think about when the time comes when I will have no cats. Smokey is 17. Frankly, I wish he'd live forever. But if I get another couple years out of his diabetic geriatric fluffy ass, I know I'll be lucky. I can't imagine life without him.

Will I get more cats? Emotionally I would want to because I do so love kitties, but somehow it feels like so much responsibility. This coming from someone who's been caring for aging cats on her own for years, and from someone who wants children. And isn't that plain silly considering how old I am? But it's true. Or maybe it's the undesirable feeling of starting over.

I have the cat of my dreams right now. He's affectionate, sweet, doesn't bite or scratch people, is friendly and likes to cuddle. I don't want another cat. He reminds me of being a kid. He's the last little link to my childhood. I don't know if I enjoy the responsibility of cat ownership so much as I only deal with it so I can keep him. Or is that why anyone cares for a pet? Or begins caregiving relationships in general?

Or maybe I'm just convinced no other kitten will compare with Smokey or will generate as much love.

Right now he's sprawled across my lap. Every day after work we have these cuddle appointments. He's very insistent on them. Yesterday I was working late at my desk and he approached me and meowed and tried to climb onto my lap while I was working. As far as he was concerned, I was done and it was time for Smokey.

One of my favourite things to say is Smokey is my favourite. My favourite what? Just my favourite <3

And the crowd goes wild... with anger!

Part of being Canadian means dying a little inside when the American hockey team wins against Team Canada. UGH. They were totally prepared to play against our goalie, Brodeur. Dude's all aggressive in the net and sets up plays. He's like a defense man and goalie in one. But they used that against him. They were on it. And their goalie Miller was incredible. We out shot them twice over and dude let in practically nothing. Frig frag frack fuck.

My Facebook news feed was flowing with devastated moans and wails of disappointment and soul crushing utterances of "Ah, FUCK!" As I watched that admittedly phenomenal open net goal, I heard or rather felt hearts break across the country. But I choose to view this positively. It means an extra game, which means more time on the ice together to improve and prepare for Russia. It ain't over yet.

Moving on, moving on.

I had to do a glucose curve for Smokey. Yeah. I had to draw blood from my cat hourly and record his glucometer results. So one can imagine what kind of day I had yesterday. Understandably, Smokey does not care for blood tests. He's not a very combative guy, but he does like to complain. Many cats howl, hiss and claw. Smokey grumbles.

Me: Come on Smokey, time for your glucose test!
Smokey: Mrrrh.
(I pick Smokey up)
Smokey: Mrrrhh!
(I prick Smokey's ear)
Smokey: Mggrrrghgh! Rrraghhh!

The joys of pet ownership. The Dude and I have been talking about getting another cat. Smokey seems lonely to us, or bored. He strolls around the apartment having meowing fits. He no longer looks for Jerry, but we think he must be missing having a friend to do cat stuff with. So we're considering it. It's a very hard decision. I don't want to make Smokey's final years unhappy for him with the wrong new cat. But I don't want him to grow more and more distressed from boredom or loneliness.

It really is amazing the hole Jerry left in this apartment. I miss the little guy.