We arrive at our house and we celebrate: it is our own piece of land and sky. We are worried about debt but we remain hopeful, my wife more than I because she has always been optimistic.
Because the house has many nooks and crannies it takes two weeks to find the previous owner's cat, which we'd hoped had died. This creature, a tabby with glossy fur and no name, is the legal embodiment of debts which we are required to assume. It is easy to love a cat, but one cannot become attached to the physical manifestation of debt, so we feed it but refuse to play with it. It is not allowed to sleep with us.
We acquire knick-knacks and furniture and we are pleased with our purchases, but every night the cat howls at something we can't see. Lack of sleep and the complaints of the neighbours force us to buy a smaller house for the cat. Our lawyer assures us that this is our best option, but he is also the lawyer for the cat, so we don't entirely trust him. We cannot afford a lawyer of our own. Our money goes toward tending the houses and buying a lot of kibble.
The cat is young and could live twenty years, long enough to outlast the university careers of our newly-born children. They are not allowed to visit the cat lest our legal situation become complicated: if the children ever feed it, they are required to share a portion of the debt which the cat represents, saddling them with responsibilities they are too young to handle.
The lawyer had given us a paper which certified the cat was sterile, but when kittens begin urinating on our front porch we realize the uncertainty of chemical sterilization. We are not allowed to touch the kittens without permission, which our lawyer refuses to grant, even after our own children die overseas in the Infant Wars. The kittens become our heirs. We must provide for them and their offspring, and rather than look at them every day we send them to subsequent and much smaller houses that we buy for them in the suburbs.
Our first home, the most beautiful one, we bequeath to the kittens. We move into the smallest home. It smells like urine and its furniture is scratched, and there are scraps of fur everywhere. It is hard to stand up because the rooms are so tiny.
Shortly afterward, and with no explanation, the houses burn down and our tragedy ends. We rent a bachelor apartment because we are too old to start over again. At night we are haunted by small burning kittens and their smoldering toys, which they jangle into and out of our one and only closet.
Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Saturday, May 29, 2010
A Few Weeks with Muffet
Every day with Muffet is a new set of adventures and challenges. We're both training each other, and meanwhile she's adapting to her new environment AND growing into adulthood. She's bigger and heavier than before but still has the spindly, long-legged look of a furry spider.
Here are some scattered impressions from the past few weeks.
- They say that "curiosity killed the cat," and now I understand why. Muffet wants to explore everything. She would climb into a running wood chipper if given the opportunity. When I washed my first load of clothes after her arrival, I went into the basement during the wash cycle and there was Muffet, sitting in the laundry tub and staring up into the washer's outflow pipe, wondering what would happen next. I removed her but there will surely come a day...
- Yes, she has been scratching my wonderful new chairs. A liberal misting of cat repellent seems to have helped, and I've also been rewarding her each time she uses her scratching tray. As a result she spends much of her time scratching at her tray, staring up at me in confusion, and then scratching some more. It's our way of bonding.
- Play...ooooh, play. Our morning and twilight involves burning off her excess of energy, which she signals by batting at my ankles. She doesn't care for balls or tiny facsimile mice, but she gets a kick out of a plastic spring that Delirium gal A. gave her, and she REALLY likes Zsa Zsa's old "feather snake," (see picture) though that game always ends with her hiding under the bed and just watching it go by, which is boring.
- There was a time when I answered to her every beep and meow, which was a mistake. Now she's like the kid who stands at the bottom of the stairs and yells "HEY MA!!! I'M HUNGRY!!! COME HERE!!!" It will take some time to extinguish this behaviour, but until then my mornings are a little tense: she's a loud girl and talkative even at the best of times, and at 5am this is far from welcome.
- Remember that Stray Badass Cat who used to terrorize Zsa Zsa? Muffet finally had enough of him the other day, and she squeezed under the patio gate and KICKED HIS ASS ALL ACROSS THE PARKING LOT. I had to stop her even though I was secretly proud of her, and that cat doesn't come into our patio anymore.
- Zsa Zsa never noticed bugs, but Muffet hunts them relentlessly (except for bees, thankfully). Maybe this is something that cats eventually get tired of.
- Muffet is no longer terrified of my bedroom and spends lots of time there, though she prefers to actually sleep in the living room. In the morning she comes up to meow at me, and when I finally say "Okay, time to get up," she walks over to me and lies down on my chest and then goes to sleep.
- Shortly after she was spayed, Muffet became lethargic and very hot. Fortunately she had a vet appointment that day, and they diagnosed her with -- get this -- "Fever of Unknown Origin." This is apparently common in dogs and cats and not just a bad joke. She recovered completely in a few days.
Friday, May 14, 2010
"et and "y
Here's a post for those who like to hear cat stories, or stories about me being analytically happy, or both.
Muffet is a pretty terrific cat.
Suddenly -- instead of the laid-back, sleepy, unconcerned pet that was Zsa Zsa -- I have this quirky, spunky, endlessly-curious kitten who loves me to death and strives to be permanently attached to me. She's settling in a bit more now, but for the last week she has spent every waking moment either on my lap or a few inches to the right of my lap...at least, when she's not racing up a flight of stairs and lunging to the left in an apparent attempt to kill me.
There has been one exception to her Muffy-love, however: she's afraid of my bedroom. I don't know if it smells particularly like Zsa Zsa, or if I accidentally kicked her off the bed the only night she slept there (she weighs 5 1/2 pounds and is therefore less detectable than a pea amongst the bedding), but as soon as she enters my bedroom she becomes a new fearful creature.
By contrast, Muffet-in-the-rest-of-the-house has never seen a nook or cranny she didn't want to climb into. There is no shelf high enough to deter her. She will rocket onto ironing boards, window sills, planters and kitchen appliances without a second thought...I keep a pot-lid on the stove to place over the elements when I'm finished with them, because my biggest fear -- seriously -- is that she'll leap onto a 350-degree burn. Jeez, no.
But as soon as she crosses my bedroom threshold she's like a small child in a haunted house: a discarded article of clothing is a ghost that must be tapped and evaded, a gentle hand is an evil claw, a creak in the rafters is grounds for a mad dash into the far-off basement. The first night she came back from the vet's, she climbed tentatively onto the bed and saw my right shoulder. She solemnly pressed it with her paw and then ran away in fear.
This made me paranoid, especially when my father said "Cats are known for detecting cancer and injuries before anybody else can." The next night she climbed onto the bed, gave me an evil look, and pressed both of her paws against my forehead. Then she ran away again.
Brain cancer and mounting vet bills aside -- not to mention her occasional 5am scream-fights with the Neighbourhood Badass Cat -- life with Muffet is wonderful. She is beginning to learn how to entertain herself. She smells things in that idiotic open-mouthed way that cats sometimes have. Catnip turns her into a whirling dervish. She is clean and healthy and strong and active.
Zsa Zsa reminded me of a middle-aged film star, a sort of Liz Taylor creature who preferred to lounge and smoke and share fond memories about former lovers. Muffet, however, makes me think of a Peter Greenaway character; a Cissy Colpitts, maybe, who collects esoterica and doesn't notice when her vag is showing. Which, because she's a domestic shorthair, is always.
In honour of cats and those who love them, and also in honour of British eccentrics, here's "Cat House" by forgotten indie-minx Danielle Dax. If you haven't forgotten her then simply telling me so will bring more joy to an already joyous weekend (and it hasn't even started yet!)
Friday, January 08, 2010
The Drys Go Happily to Hell, Plus Cat Joke
In March, 1930, after ten years of expensive prohibition "enforcement" that did little except make bootleggers rich, Americans loudly debated whether to reform the Volstead act. It was obvious that people of all social stripes were still drinking almost as much booze as they had been previously, and it was obvious to most people that prohibition encouraged outright graft and corruption to the point where people just assumed that every cop (and government official) was on the payroll of crime syndicates.
But still the "Drys" held on. Powerful voting blocs had not yet reached the point of "repeal," simply asking for "reform." Magazines like The New Yorker had a field day with this whole debate, as often happens when opposing views become totally strident, polarized, pointless, and out of touch with reality.
So March 29, 1930 brings the first really great New Yorker cover that I've seen so far, drawn by Rea Irvin, probably the most constant contributor to the magazine since its inception. Just look at the happy grin of the "Wet" good-time girl falling to hell, and the awful drabness of the "Dry."
(As always, click for a bigger version)
I'm confused about the cat, though. Was this from some temperance meme of the day, or was the "Dry" a caricature of a notable cat-loving person, or did Irvin add it simply to add balance and humour to the cover?
We'll never know, but I DID find this great cat joke:
But still the "Drys" held on. Powerful voting blocs had not yet reached the point of "repeal," simply asking for "reform." Magazines like The New Yorker had a field day with this whole debate, as often happens when opposing views become totally strident, polarized, pointless, and out of touch with reality.
So March 29, 1930 brings the first really great New Yorker cover that I've seen so far, drawn by Rea Irvin, probably the most constant contributor to the magazine since its inception. Just look at the happy grin of the "Wet" good-time girl falling to hell, and the awful drabness of the "Dry."
(As always, click for a bigger version)I'm confused about the cat, though. Was this from some temperance meme of the day, or was the "Dry" a caricature of a notable cat-loving person, or did Irvin add it simply to add balance and humour to the cover?
We'll never know, but I DID find this great cat joke:
Amie Semple McPherson was an old time evangelist who was known for her dramatic sermons. Once she sent a little kid up into the choir loft and told him to release a dove out of its cage on cue.
So she was preaching away and said, "And the Lord will send a dove of peace..."
And the kid yelled out, "The cat just ate the dove. Should I throw down the cat?"
Sunday, July 19, 2009
The ZsaZsaBlog VI
Last month I noticed that Zsa Zsa was looking increasingly scruffy; she had tufts of fur sticking out every where and she appeared to have stopped grooming herself. She was also extremely lethargic. "That's it," I thought, "she's REALLY dying now."
But then I had a sudden brainstorm. I took out a comb and started to brush her, and in half an hour I'd removed sixteen inches of loose fur.
It seems that the sudden heat and her new frailty had dealt her a double blow, and whereas in the past she'd been able to remove all that fur, this year she just couldn't. It was like she was wearing a pair of snowpants in the middle of summer. As soon as we finished our hour-long brushing session she went bouncing around the room, suddenly cool and free!
As always, signs of her demise were greatly exaggerated.
Case in point: she caught at least two mice last week, and in keeping with her experimental nature she left them in various states of gruesomeness.
Last Monday I stepped on a mouse tail, which she'd left at the bottom of the stairs. Usually she eats the tails, but maybe this one simply wasn't to her liking.
Wednesday's mouse was the most disgusting yet, because instead of eating it front-to-back or back-to-front, she'd eaten in LATERALLY, from the underbelly up. Three of the feet, most of the viscera, and the lower jaw of the mouse were gone...but the tail, spine, and much of the bleary-eyed head were still intact. It looked like a horror movie prop: a mouse dipped in acid, its ribs gnawed back into little fingers and one little back foot hanging off.
Why does Zsa Zsa do these things? I thought she was a cute little bundle who snores happily on my lap, not a wicked witch-monster who spends the early morning hours eating small creatures alive.
Of course this only makes me love her more.
But then I had a sudden brainstorm. I took out a comb and started to brush her, and in half an hour I'd removed sixteen inches of loose fur.
It seems that the sudden heat and her new frailty had dealt her a double blow, and whereas in the past she'd been able to remove all that fur, this year she just couldn't. It was like she was wearing a pair of snowpants in the middle of summer. As soon as we finished our hour-long brushing session she went bouncing around the room, suddenly cool and free!
As always, signs of her demise were greatly exaggerated.
Case in point: she caught at least two mice last week, and in keeping with her experimental nature she left them in various states of gruesomeness.
Last Monday I stepped on a mouse tail, which she'd left at the bottom of the stairs. Usually she eats the tails, but maybe this one simply wasn't to her liking.
Wednesday's mouse was the most disgusting yet, because instead of eating it front-to-back or back-to-front, she'd eaten in LATERALLY, from the underbelly up. Three of the feet, most of the viscera, and the lower jaw of the mouse were gone...but the tail, spine, and much of the bleary-eyed head were still intact. It looked like a horror movie prop: a mouse dipped in acid, its ribs gnawed back into little fingers and one little back foot hanging off.
Why does Zsa Zsa do these things? I thought she was a cute little bundle who snores happily on my lap, not a wicked witch-monster who spends the early morning hours eating small creatures alive.
Of course this only makes me love her more.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Living with a Cat Who Is Mental About Water
Zsa Zsa has always been obsessed with running water, but as her kidneys continue to deteriorate -- and, maybe, as she grows increasingly senile -- this water thing just keeps getting crazier.
Last month I realized that her FAVOURITE way of drinking water was to lick it off of a wet loofah. You see, I have a synthetic loofah ball hanging off my bathtub tap, and every time I finished taking a bath she'd jump in and start licking it.
I figured that was an easy way to make her happy, so I broke my cardinal rule -- "Never encourage irrational behaviour in my cat" -- and started running water over the loofah "on demand." The problem was, the demand was CONSTANT and her cries became increasingly strident. She stopped reluctantly drinking out of the water bowls I've scattered around the house, instead sitting endlessly in the tub and yelling at me to pour more water, damnit.
That alone would just be sort of sad and pathetic, but I became TRULY annoyed when I realized that she'd only lick the LEFT half of the loofah. The OTHER half was perfectly wet and accessible, but she'd just never lick it. Only the left. This doubled the number of times I had to accommodate her already bizarre obsession.
I've gradually stopped her from yelling at tje loofah (by instead presenting her with a fresh bowl of water), but last week we moved to a new level of crazy. Now, instead of waiting for the tub to drain before licking the loofah -- which she still does religiously after bathtime -- she'll dive right in and start drinking before all the water is gone. Here she is.
There's no solution: she's thirsty AND crazy. It's a good thing we're in love.
Last month I realized that her FAVOURITE way of drinking water was to lick it off of a wet loofah. You see, I have a synthetic loofah ball hanging off my bathtub tap, and every time I finished taking a bath she'd jump in and start licking it.
I figured that was an easy way to make her happy, so I broke my cardinal rule -- "Never encourage irrational behaviour in my cat" -- and started running water over the loofah "on demand." The problem was, the demand was CONSTANT and her cries became increasingly strident. She stopped reluctantly drinking out of the water bowls I've scattered around the house, instead sitting endlessly in the tub and yelling at me to pour more water, damnit.
That alone would just be sort of sad and pathetic, but I became TRULY annoyed when I realized that she'd only lick the LEFT half of the loofah. The OTHER half was perfectly wet and accessible, but she'd just never lick it. Only the left. This doubled the number of times I had to accommodate her already bizarre obsession.
I've gradually stopped her from yelling at tje loofah (by instead presenting her with a fresh bowl of water), but last week we moved to a new level of crazy. Now, instead of waiting for the tub to drain before licking the loofah -- which she still does religiously after bathtime -- she'll dive right in and start drinking before all the water is gone. Here she is.
There's no solution: she's thirsty AND crazy. It's a good thing we're in love.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
The ZsaZsaBlog V
I'm pleased to report that Zsa Zsa -- currently known as "Zsa Zsa the Tan," or "Pinquevarnimeoi" in the Elvish tongue -- seems to be doing well. She's eating and drinking and has even started "talking" again, narrating her comings and goings with a squawk and a chirp.
I can't point to any one thing that's helped her, because I wasn't willing to do a controlled-study of her health. I just tried half a dozen potential fixes all at once.
To address her dehydration, I lowered the thermostat a bit to prevent the amount of dry air blowing around. More significantly, I stopped running my bedside fan during the night...I normally keep it going so I won't hear her snore (or the squirrels running around in the attic, which they do at all hours). Instead I just wear earplugs and I think both of us wake up with slightly moister throats.
I also did an intensive study of her water-mania. By setting up a collection of home-made contraptions in the tub I was able to figure out what she likes and dislikes about various forms of water. If your cat is obsessed with water, maybe this information will help you:
But after that the process must be repeated, maybe because by then she's forgotten that she saw the water arrive.
Incidentally, she WILL drink out of a deep pot or basin, but ONLY if she sees it arrive and ONLY if it isn't put near her food or directly in front of her. After a short period of time she'll sneak over and drink out of it.
I don't know what all this says about cat psychology, except that cats are mental.
So once I got her drinking it was time to get her EATING again, and as I mentioned before I did this by mixing a bit of cat food gravy and chicken in with her "proper" food and heating it for three seconds. After she ate it for a few days I stopped adding the gravy, which probably annoys her but she has continued eating anyway. She's even started eating her dry food again.
It's probably significant that her antibiotics (for her urine infection) have kicked in; she is no longer doing her "pee scream" and probably feels better in general. Finally, I'm spending lots of time petting her and chatting with her, which might improve her joie de vivre.
So even though she's still alarmingly thin (and she's developed an explosive sneeze), I think she's in the clear for a little while longer. I won't consider her out of the woods until she gains some weight -- and even then I think we're living on borrowed time -- but I hope we'll at least be able to spend one more Christmas together.
I can't point to any one thing that's helped her, because I wasn't willing to do a controlled-study of her health. I just tried half a dozen potential fixes all at once.
To address her dehydration, I lowered the thermostat a bit to prevent the amount of dry air blowing around. More significantly, I stopped running my bedside fan during the night...I normally keep it going so I won't hear her snore (or the squirrels running around in the attic, which they do at all hours). Instead I just wear earplugs and I think both of us wake up with slightly moister throats.
I also did an intensive study of her water-mania. By setting up a collection of home-made contraptions in the tub I was able to figure out what she likes and dislikes about various forms of water. If your cat is obsessed with water, maybe this information will help you:
- She must SEE the water arriving in a rivulet; if you just bring it to her in a bowl she doesn't believe it's fresh.
- She doesn't, however, want to drink RUNNING water, which explains why her cat-fountain leaves her so unimpressed. No, she only wants to drink it once it's STOPPED moving.
- She doesn't like LARGE pools of water; they must be small and shallow.
- She doesn't want to actually get wet.
But after that the process must be repeated, maybe because by then she's forgotten that she saw the water arrive.
Incidentally, she WILL drink out of a deep pot or basin, but ONLY if she sees it arrive and ONLY if it isn't put near her food or directly in front of her. After a short period of time she'll sneak over and drink out of it.
I don't know what all this says about cat psychology, except that cats are mental.
So once I got her drinking it was time to get her EATING again, and as I mentioned before I did this by mixing a bit of cat food gravy and chicken in with her "proper" food and heating it for three seconds. After she ate it for a few days I stopped adding the gravy, which probably annoys her but she has continued eating anyway. She's even started eating her dry food again.
It's probably significant that her antibiotics (for her urine infection) have kicked in; she is no longer doing her "pee scream" and probably feels better in general. Finally, I'm spending lots of time petting her and chatting with her, which might improve her joie de vivre.
So even though she's still alarmingly thin (and she's developed an explosive sneeze), I think she's in the clear for a little while longer. I won't consider her out of the woods until she gains some weight -- and even then I think we're living on borrowed time -- but I hope we'll at least be able to spend one more Christmas together.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
One-Track Zsa Zsa Blog
Most things in my life are being crowded out by Zsa Zsa's health at the moment, so I do apologize for my absenteeism and obsession.
The vet said that Zsa Zsa's urine showed signs of infection, so she gave me antibiotics, but she was most concerned that Zsa Zsa had started losing her appetite and had lost about two pounds; really, she's skinnier than ever, and she's spending more and more time just curled up and sleeping. I didn't want to be alarmist in my last post because I didn't want to sound like a hysterial mom -- and I was trying to be positive about it instead of doing my usual "SHE'S DYING!" drama -- but unless things improve this week I think that her time is coming.
She's always been weird about water -- preferring oil-slicked mud puddles and toilets to any source of fresh water -- but her pickiness seems to have turned into dehydration. I'm watching her like a hawk to find out what I can do to get her to drink more, and I'm breaking all the taboos: repeatedly flushing the toilet, running water in the bathtub, leaving bowls of water around. She's drinking a bit but only if I constantly refresh the source, and even then she'll only drink for a few seconds before turning up her nose. Her kitty water-fountain doesn't seem to interest her much.
Far more frightening is her aversion to her low-protein food. Maybe she decided after thirty cans that she just didn't like it anymore. Last night, in total desperation, I emptied a can of her old forbidden Purina brand onto the plate with her new food, and she gobbled up the Purina...then finished off the new stuff too.
That was last night and I tried it again today, but it didn't seem to work as well; I gave her a few pieces of chicken and she ate them with gusto, then curled up and buried her head in the pillows. So I wonder if she's simply getting sick when she eats, and slowly deciding not to eat anymore, even the stuff she loves. I bought a can of tuna as a last resort, but I haven't decided to try it yet.
She's still bright-eyed and alert, but she mostly just sleeps, usually on top of me. She isn't showing any outward signs of pain but her strange posture persists...an awkward way of sitting that first started three months ago when these troubles began.
I've looked online and there are other pet owners who have reported similar things -- urinary infections, loss of appetite, weird posture, no more drinking -- and they always seem to involve kidney problems, potential strokes, and vets with no answers. Some cats seem to recover...I'm hoping that once Zsa Zsa's antibiotics kick in she'll show some improvement.
I'm in that awful spot between hoping she'll recover and not wanting to prolong any potential suffering. How do you know when enough is enough? In the past I'd decided that if she stopped eating I'd take that as "a sign," but we've reached that point and she still seems...well, "happy," in a really sleepy sort of way. She lies in my lap and purrs (like she's doing right now), she wakes me up in the morning to meow for food she never eats, she isn't crying or collapsing.
But I'm constantly wondering: does she hurt? I don't know! I want to spare her unnecessary pain but I don't want to "write her off" either.
The vet said that Zsa Zsa's urine showed signs of infection, so she gave me antibiotics, but she was most concerned that Zsa Zsa had started losing her appetite and had lost about two pounds; really, she's skinnier than ever, and she's spending more and more time just curled up and sleeping. I didn't want to be alarmist in my last post because I didn't want to sound like a hysterial mom -- and I was trying to be positive about it instead of doing my usual "SHE'S DYING!" drama -- but unless things improve this week I think that her time is coming.
She's always been weird about water -- preferring oil-slicked mud puddles and toilets to any source of fresh water -- but her pickiness seems to have turned into dehydration. I'm watching her like a hawk to find out what I can do to get her to drink more, and I'm breaking all the taboos: repeatedly flushing the toilet, running water in the bathtub, leaving bowls of water around. She's drinking a bit but only if I constantly refresh the source, and even then she'll only drink for a few seconds before turning up her nose. Her kitty water-fountain doesn't seem to interest her much.
Far more frightening is her aversion to her low-protein food. Maybe she decided after thirty cans that she just didn't like it anymore. Last night, in total desperation, I emptied a can of her old forbidden Purina brand onto the plate with her new food, and she gobbled up the Purina...then finished off the new stuff too.
That was last night and I tried it again today, but it didn't seem to work as well; I gave her a few pieces of chicken and she ate them with gusto, then curled up and buried her head in the pillows. So I wonder if she's simply getting sick when she eats, and slowly deciding not to eat anymore, even the stuff she loves. I bought a can of tuna as a last resort, but I haven't decided to try it yet.
She's still bright-eyed and alert, but she mostly just sleeps, usually on top of me. She isn't showing any outward signs of pain but her strange posture persists...an awkward way of sitting that first started three months ago when these troubles began.
I've looked online and there are other pet owners who have reported similar things -- urinary infections, loss of appetite, weird posture, no more drinking -- and they always seem to involve kidney problems, potential strokes, and vets with no answers. Some cats seem to recover...I'm hoping that once Zsa Zsa's antibiotics kick in she'll show some improvement.
I'm in that awful spot between hoping she'll recover and not wanting to prolong any potential suffering. How do you know when enough is enough? In the past I'd decided that if she stopped eating I'd take that as "a sign," but we've reached that point and she still seems...well, "happy," in a really sleepy sort of way. She lies in my lap and purrs (like she's doing right now), she wakes me up in the morning to meow for food she never eats, she isn't crying or collapsing.
But I'm constantly wondering: does she hurt? I don't know! I want to spare her unnecessary pain but I don't want to "write her off" either.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
The Return of the "Pee Scream"
There's something very sad about watching your cat meow, squat, scream, and then stare at you like you should be able to pee FOR her. But this is the second time we've gone through this and I have to admit that I'm a bit more relaxed: there's nothing I can do for Zsa Zsa -- known currently as "Catwise Gamgee" -- until we get her to the vet this morning, and then she'll probably be fine after another bunch of antibiotics.
Apparently, when cats get bladder infections they think their bladders are constantly full, so they wander around trying to pee all the time. When Zsa Zsa does this she never actually MANAGES to pee -- she just squats and flicks her tail around like she's really angry -- and that's fortunate, because she's usually squatting over something like a pair of shoes or a feather headdress.
But when she actually DOES manage to pee it's usually just outside her litterbox, which brings us back to the old "scrub the basement floor" routine. I'd almost forgotten the joy of coming home to the smell of cat urine!
PS: The old receptionist at the vet office pronounced her name "Say-Say." The new receptionist pronounces it "Yah-Yah." Baffling!
Apparently, when cats get bladder infections they think their bladders are constantly full, so they wander around trying to pee all the time. When Zsa Zsa does this she never actually MANAGES to pee -- she just squats and flicks her tail around like she's really angry -- and that's fortunate, because she's usually squatting over something like a pair of shoes or a feather headdress.
But when she actually DOES manage to pee it's usually just outside her litterbox, which brings us back to the old "scrub the basement floor" routine. I'd almost forgotten the joy of coming home to the smell of cat urine!
PS: The old receptionist at the vet office pronounced her name "Say-Say." The new receptionist pronounces it "Yah-Yah." Baffling!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Domestic Drag Show: "Macavity" By Sarah Brightman
The newest (and longest) Domestic Drag Show is ready for viewing...if you dare!
This has always been a difficult song to do. Despite the somewhat arbitrary and easily forgettable "you/they" lyric switches, it simply has a weird tempo between "burlesque" and "big band." I don't know whether to grind or prance. And coupled with the relatively snoozy running time (3:45 in its edited version) I just don't do this live anymore.
I think all this awkwardness comes out in the video, filmed on two separate nights several weeks apart, including "second unit" hands. Fortunately Zsa Zsa consented to appear as the nefarious, gender-switching "Macavity" himself.
If anybody wants a signed, one-of-a-kind "Macavity" portrait, it's still nailed to my wall.
This has always been a difficult song to do. Despite the somewhat arbitrary and easily forgettable "you/they" lyric switches, it simply has a weird tempo between "burlesque" and "big band." I don't know whether to grind or prance. And coupled with the relatively snoozy running time (3:45 in its edited version) I just don't do this live anymore.
I think all this awkwardness comes out in the video, filmed on two separate nights several weeks apart, including "second unit" hands. Fortunately Zsa Zsa consented to appear as the nefarious, gender-switching "Macavity" himself.
If anybody wants a signed, one-of-a-kind "Macavity" portrait, it's still nailed to my wall.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
The ZsaZsaBlog IV
It's been a full month since Zsa Zsa's crisis and she seems like her old self again. I'd forgotten about all the spunky things she used to do which she'd gradually stopped doing. Now, thanks to her totally vile and disgusting soft food diet, she is back to rolling around, staring out of windows, and running up and down the stairs.
She still sits down strangely, which may be arthritis or an after-effect of last month's awfulness, and she still tries to pee outside her litterbox...probably a habit now, which is easily dealt with by strategically placing a few bowls around the basement. It's actually easier to dispose of cat pee in a bowl instead of in a litterbox.
She's even putting on weight again, but strangely it is all under her belly instead of on her back and shoulders, which are still disturbingly bony. Maybe this is just part of being an old lady.
She does do a few NEW things these days. She has an absolute MANIA for sitting on my lap...this could partially be because of the cold weather, but I think she mostly just feels weak and dependent. The few times I've tried to take her outside she has hissed and fought for her life, as though she knows she can't defend herself. This is strange considering her lifelong joy in being outside.
I'm a bit worried that she's growing less and less interested in her food. For the first few weeks she was rabidly eating it, but now she lets it sit for a few hours and only finishes half of it. Maybe she was just half-starved before and now she's back to "normal."
So Zsa Zsa's doing fine at the moment, but given our track record over long weekends I am not getting too complacent...
She still sits down strangely, which may be arthritis or an after-effect of last month's awfulness, and she still tries to pee outside her litterbox...probably a habit now, which is easily dealt with by strategically placing a few bowls around the basement. It's actually easier to dispose of cat pee in a bowl instead of in a litterbox.
She's even putting on weight again, but strangely it is all under her belly instead of on her back and shoulders, which are still disturbingly bony. Maybe this is just part of being an old lady.
She does do a few NEW things these days. She has an absolute MANIA for sitting on my lap...this could partially be because of the cold weather, but I think she mostly just feels weak and dependent. The few times I've tried to take her outside she has hissed and fought for her life, as though she knows she can't defend herself. This is strange considering her lifelong joy in being outside.
I'm a bit worried that she's growing less and less interested in her food. For the first few weeks she was rabidly eating it, but now she lets it sit for a few hours and only finishes half of it. Maybe she was just half-starved before and now she's back to "normal."
So Zsa Zsa's doing fine at the moment, but given our track record over long weekends I am not getting too complacent...
Friday, September 05, 2008
The Skinny on the Skinny Cat
Thanks to everybody for your advice and encouragement regarding Zsa Zsa's troubles. After many trips to the vet -- including one enforced "cat daycare" in order to get a fresh urine sample -- the diagnosis is...
...inconclusive. Instead of knowing what she's suffering from, we at least have a better idea of what she ISN'T suffering from.
She doesn't have worms, for instance, which is particularly weird considering what I pulled out of her butt last week. It must have been a piece of string...or maybe a bit of undigested mouse.
She also doesn't have diabetes, and nothing is wrong with her thyroid. That's the good news.
The bad news is that her urine shows signs of approaching kidney problems...or maybe liver problems, they're not sure which. Fortunately these problems can be managed through proper diet, so we're now doing the three-day "New Cat Food Taste Test," which is kind of fun and which she absolutely LOVES.
I am instructed to keep watching her for further deterioration, and to buy a bathroom scale so I can monitor her weight. I had previously refused to get a scale because I suspect it would lead to compulsive weighing of MYSELF, but there are certain sacrifices one must make for one's unfailing companion.
As for Zsa Zsa herself, she's back to her normal behaviour, though alarmingly thin. She's just as social, active, curious, and thirsty as she always was. Her "bad spell" during the weekend may have been due to a number of things -- like the terrible heat and the worm medication I gave her -- but she SEEMED to get bad whenever I fed her Purina soft food, which I kept doing in order to comfort her. She may have developed an intolerance for something in that food. Very, very strange.
Anyway, Zsa Zsa no longer appears to be on death's door and is instead scratching back at mine. Thank goodness!
...inconclusive. Instead of knowing what she's suffering from, we at least have a better idea of what she ISN'T suffering from.
She doesn't have worms, for instance, which is particularly weird considering what I pulled out of her butt last week. It must have been a piece of string...or maybe a bit of undigested mouse.
She also doesn't have diabetes, and nothing is wrong with her thyroid. That's the good news.
The bad news is that her urine shows signs of approaching kidney problems...or maybe liver problems, they're not sure which. Fortunately these problems can be managed through proper diet, so we're now doing the three-day "New Cat Food Taste Test," which is kind of fun and which she absolutely LOVES.
I am instructed to keep watching her for further deterioration, and to buy a bathroom scale so I can monitor her weight. I had previously refused to get a scale because I suspect it would lead to compulsive weighing of MYSELF, but there are certain sacrifices one must make for one's unfailing companion.
As for Zsa Zsa herself, she's back to her normal behaviour, though alarmingly thin. She's just as social, active, curious, and thirsty as she always was. Her "bad spell" during the weekend may have been due to a number of things -- like the terrible heat and the worm medication I gave her -- but she SEEMED to get bad whenever I fed her Purina soft food, which I kept doing in order to comfort her. She may have developed an intolerance for something in that food. Very, very strange.
Anyway, Zsa Zsa no longer appears to be on death's door and is instead scratching back at mine. Thank goodness!
Monday, September 01, 2008
24 Hours
A warning to the sensitive...this is a little gross. And I do apologize that so many of these posts are about my cat; I'm considering calling this "The ZsaZsaBlog."
5:00am: I wake up to a terrible smashing sound. I go into the bathroom and see that the cat has knocked a bottle of shaving cream off the edge of the tub. Nonplussed, I go back to sleep.
7:00am: I wake up again, this time to an overpowering smell of feces. Zsa Zsa is on my bed and she's troubled, because...well, there's a huge clump of(unmentionable) hanging out of her (unmentionable).
Fortunately I have a kleenex box beside my bed, so I protect my hands and pull several inches of yellow string out of her butt. Assuming that it's a piece of partially-digested mouse tail, I take it downstairs and throw it out...then I realize, holy cow, that was a DEAD ROUNDWORM.
9:00am: I make the rounds of the house and discover several places where Zsa Zsa had tried to relieve herself of the offending worm. Soap, water, sponge, gross.
1:00pm: I take the bus to Conestoga Mall and buy roundworm medication from the pet store. These are little powdery capsules that you're supposed to mix with her food. Since I don't want to pull another worm out of her butt tomorrow morning, I feed her a second time, mixing the medication in with her food.
2:00pm: In the bathroom, I discover why Zsa Zsa had knocked the shaving cream over: there's an enormous moth huddled up in the corner of the room. Since I am a seasoned moth-rescuer, I manage to get it outside without destroying it. This is good.
4:00pm: I take a nap.
5:00pm: I wake up to the strong odour of liver-and-chicken cat food; Zsa Zsa has vomited up and down the stairs in several artfully-arranged puddles. Soap, water, sponge, gross. I don't think she has digested any of the medication I gave her, but I don't want to give her more in case that's what's causing her to throw up.
7:00pm: I begin getting ready for the night. I wear my cyberlox hair extensions for the occasion, since they look a bit like roundworms. Zsa Zsa sits under the computer chair, incredibly thin, somewhat warm but responsive. I decide that she's only warm because my apartment is extremely hot, but maybe she's sick and has a fever.
10:00pm: Club Abstract. I have trained myself to love the inevitable bridesmaids. Sweet people everywhere and a general love of my cyberlox. Some folks tell me that cats ALWAYS vomit when you give them such medication, others say that cats should NEVER vomit under those conditions. I am reminded that everybody has an opinion about cat health but nobody really knows for sure. At least other people have pulled worms out of their cats' butts too.
2:30am: I return home, half expecting to find Zsa Zsa dead or dying. Instead she trots up to the door like she always does, expecting treats. I sit her down and explain that she has a parasitic infection and that we'll need to go to the vet. She paws gently at my cyberlox and then goes looking for mice.
5:00am: I wake up to a terrible smashing sound. I go into the bathroom and see that the cat has knocked a bottle of shaving cream off the edge of the tub. Nonplussed, I go back to sleep.
7:00am: I wake up again, this time to an overpowering smell of feces. Zsa Zsa is on my bed and she's troubled, because...well, there's a huge clump of
Fortunately I have a kleenex box beside my bed, so I protect my hands and pull several inches of yellow string out of her butt. Assuming that it's a piece of partially-digested mouse tail, I take it downstairs and throw it out...then I realize, holy cow, that was a DEAD ROUNDWORM.
9:00am: I make the rounds of the house and discover several places where Zsa Zsa had tried to relieve herself of the offending worm. Soap, water, sponge, gross.
1:00pm: I take the bus to Conestoga Mall and buy roundworm medication from the pet store. These are little powdery capsules that you're supposed to mix with her food. Since I don't want to pull another worm out of her butt tomorrow morning, I feed her a second time, mixing the medication in with her food.
2:00pm: In the bathroom, I discover why Zsa Zsa had knocked the shaving cream over: there's an enormous moth huddled up in the corner of the room. Since I am a seasoned moth-rescuer, I manage to get it outside without destroying it. This is good.
4:00pm: I take a nap.
5:00pm: I wake up to the strong odour of liver-and-chicken cat food; Zsa Zsa has vomited up and down the stairs in several artfully-arranged puddles. Soap, water, sponge, gross. I don't think she has digested any of the medication I gave her, but I don't want to give her more in case that's what's causing her to throw up.
7:00pm: I begin getting ready for the night. I wear my cyberlox hair extensions for the occasion, since they look a bit like roundworms. Zsa Zsa sits under the computer chair, incredibly thin, somewhat warm but responsive. I decide that she's only warm because my apartment is extremely hot, but maybe she's sick and has a fever.
10:00pm: Club Abstract. I have trained myself to love the inevitable bridesmaids. Sweet people everywhere and a general love of my cyberlox. Some folks tell me that cats ALWAYS vomit when you give them such medication, others say that cats should NEVER vomit under those conditions. I am reminded that everybody has an opinion about cat health but nobody really knows for sure. At least other people have pulled worms out of their cats' butts too.
2:30am: I return home, half expecting to find Zsa Zsa dead or dying. Instead she trots up to the door like she always does, expecting treats. I sit her down and explain that she has a parasitic infection and that we'll need to go to the vet. She paws gently at my cyberlox and then goes looking for mice.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Meeses to Pieces
After Zsa Zsa devoured a mouse from head to tail a few weeks ago, I did some research and discovered that mice are a wonderful type of cat food. I'm worried that she'll get tapeworms from eating them, but since there's no way to stop her I've decided to make the best of it.
We know that the mice prefer to enter my apartment through a vent under my kitchen table, so I built a special "mouse blind" for Zsa Zsa to hide behind while hunting. Five minutes ago she trotted into the computer room, dropped a mouse at my feet, and proceeded to eat it.
I knew you'd want to see this so I took lots of pictures -- and even a video -- but I'm afraid that they're just too disgusting. Instead of swallowing this one whole, she chewed bits and pieces off from various places, and while I'm amazed at the total lack of blood I am less surprised at the reverse-flow through the mouse's digestive tract...something you don't want to see.
So I'm afraid you'll need to take my word for it. Zsa Zsa is accepting congratulations for a job well done, and also soliciting tips for preparing tasty mouse treats.
We know that the mice prefer to enter my apartment through a vent under my kitchen table, so I built a special "mouse blind" for Zsa Zsa to hide behind while hunting. Five minutes ago she trotted into the computer room, dropped a mouse at my feet, and proceeded to eat it.
I knew you'd want to see this so I took lots of pictures -- and even a video -- but I'm afraid that they're just too disgusting. Instead of swallowing this one whole, she chewed bits and pieces off from various places, and while I'm amazed at the total lack of blood I am less surprised at the reverse-flow through the mouse's digestive tract...something you don't want to see.
So I'm afraid you'll need to take my word for it. Zsa Zsa is accepting congratulations for a job well done, and also soliciting tips for preparing tasty mouse treats.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
To Gentlemen Who Occasionally Want to Kick the Cat
So yes, I'm still alive, but I've had "one of those weeks." Not only was I spectacularly sick, dealing with money troubles, canceling all my social appointments, and taking my car into the shop...but through all this my cat was urinating on the basement floor.
You might know what stale cat pee smells like: sharp, evil, headache-y. If the Wicked Witch of the West ever got over her hydrophobia and took a pee, I bet it would smell like that.
Feverish, snotty, and exhausted, I kept on scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing...and then, a few hours later, the pee was back with its attendant odour. Things reached a head when, on Saturday night, I brought a person into my apartment who physically FLINCHED at the front door, and then suggested we "open a window and turn on the fan." And not just because I'm so damn hot.
The next day I scrubbed the basement floor again, and I bought baking soda and spread it around. Then -- in a moment of inspiration -- I put a deep ceramic saucer on the ground where she tends to pee. Lately she's been urinating directly in that saucer, which I quickly empty -- the smell isn't NEARLY so bad when it's fresh and unable to ooze into anything.
Why has she started doing this? I suppose it began with her bladder infection; maybe she associates the litter box with stress and pain now. It's time to buy her a new box anyway.
As for the infection itself, I've been sticking pills down her throat twice a day for almost two weeks, so supposedly the problem is gone. Once I have vacuumed and cleaned up the detritus of The Cloistered Sickly Muffy, my apartment will once again be safe for visiting.
PS: Why does that guy in the picture want to kick his cat? "It usually isn't any antipathy to Tabby's furry innocence...it's just that you're out of sorts...brain groggy...nerves jumpy...every man has had such days. Possibly you're smoking the wrong cigars."
The advertisement says that Muriel cigars will NEVER get on your nerves, and will "fetch you up at the end of the day with a smile as sweet as a baby's." Shiver.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
The Poo Scream
This afternoon my cat began making her "poo scream."
I've only heard this a few times, and it has always happened when I've shamefully neglected cleaning her litterbox. Her "poo scream" sounds like a regular yowl, but instead of having a clean tone it actually "breaks up" at its peak, as though to say "Before I was only kidding but NOW I REALLY MEAN IT!"
An awful humidity has been playing havoc with the litter -- twenty seconds after she pees, the entire apartment stinks for hours -- so I thought maybe the smell in there was too much for her. I cleaned the litterbox -- it was pretty clean to begin with, really -- and she went down to use it...and started to scream again.
So I went through all the usual distractions -- gave her fresh water, gave her treats, took her outside -- but to no avail; it became obvious that Zsa Zsa really wanted to do SOMETHING in her litterbox, but was for some reason unable.
I called the vet and she told me that Zsa Zsa was probably constipated, and she sent me down to the pharmacy for some Lactulose ("You've got a CONSTIPATED CAT?!?" yelled the pharmacist) and I also bought one of those plastic syringes made for babies. Then, apologetically, I propped poor Zsa Zsa in my lap and squirted one milliliter of bitter-tasting medication down her throat.
She coughed, sneezed, then crawled to the middle of the floor and began to gulp spasmodically. She continued to do this for half and hour -- sort of hiccuping, really -- and then gradually stopped. An hour later she was willing to accept my company again. I can't blame her for being angry; it can't be nice to be both constipated AND hiccuping at the same time.
Unfortunately she still hasn't gone to the bathroom, though she's no longer complaining about it. I'm supposed to give her three doses of Lactulose each day until she finally lets loose, and I'm happy to report that our second session went much smoother than the first; Zsa Zsa's a pretty easy-going cat.
If you have ever had a pet -- or even a pre-verbal child, God forbid -- you know how awful it is to see them suffer, and to know that the only way to help them is to make them suffer MORE, often by betraying their trust in you. I can only hope that, when Zsa Zsa is finally spraying the inside of her litterbox with Lactulose-inspired diarrhea, she understands I'M the one who made it all happen for her.
I've only heard this a few times, and it has always happened when I've shamefully neglected cleaning her litterbox. Her "poo scream" sounds like a regular yowl, but instead of having a clean tone it actually "breaks up" at its peak, as though to say "Before I was only kidding but NOW I REALLY MEAN IT!"
An awful humidity has been playing havoc with the litter -- twenty seconds after she pees, the entire apartment stinks for hours -- so I thought maybe the smell in there was too much for her. I cleaned the litterbox -- it was pretty clean to begin with, really -- and she went down to use it...and started to scream again.
So I went through all the usual distractions -- gave her fresh water, gave her treats, took her outside -- but to no avail; it became obvious that Zsa Zsa really wanted to do SOMETHING in her litterbox, but was for some reason unable.
I called the vet and she told me that Zsa Zsa was probably constipated, and she sent me down to the pharmacy for some Lactulose ("You've got a CONSTIPATED CAT?!?" yelled the pharmacist) and I also bought one of those plastic syringes made for babies. Then, apologetically, I propped poor Zsa Zsa in my lap and squirted one milliliter of bitter-tasting medication down her throat.
She coughed, sneezed, then crawled to the middle of the floor and began to gulp spasmodically. She continued to do this for half and hour -- sort of hiccuping, really -- and then gradually stopped. An hour later she was willing to accept my company again. I can't blame her for being angry; it can't be nice to be both constipated AND hiccuping at the same time.
Unfortunately she still hasn't gone to the bathroom, though she's no longer complaining about it. I'm supposed to give her three doses of Lactulose each day until she finally lets loose, and I'm happy to report that our second session went much smoother than the first; Zsa Zsa's a pretty easy-going cat.
If you have ever had a pet -- or even a pre-verbal child, God forbid -- you know how awful it is to see them suffer, and to know that the only way to help them is to make them suffer MORE, often by betraying their trust in you. I can only hope that, when Zsa Zsa is finally spraying the inside of her litterbox with Lactulose-inspired diarrhea, she understands I'M the one who made it all happen for her.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Scrutable Poetry Corner: "Dilemma"
In keeping with the recent "cat" theme, here's "Dilemma" from the December 22, 1928 New Yorker. I actually think it's kind of lovely.
He wrote some books.
Kittens, of course, are embarrassing...This is by Harold Willard Gleason, best known for...well, nothing much that I can figure out.
Yet, in the full o' the moon,
Who would not wander, a sinuous wraith,
Out of the door--away--
Threading the area's fragrant shades
To a fence where gallants croon,
Tiger, maltese, and tortoise,
Many a lovelorn lay?
There, where the pails gleam silver,
What rapture to pose and yawn,
Queening it over the envious swains,
Preening, alluring, heart-harassing;
Fanning to fury a duel-din
Death to the drowsy dawn!
Helen of Troy, in fur...
--But kittens, alas, are embarrassing!
He wrote some books.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Things You Can Say To Your Cat
Since we're talking about "cat intelligence," here's a list of phrases you might wish to use when interacting with your cat. I can't guarantee that they'll understand what you're saying, but note the simple syntax (excluding the final phrase, which expresses an idea that spayed or neutered cats would probably find nonsensical anyway).
Who's my pretty cat? This is a rhetorical question.
Awww, puss-puss-puss. An affectionate statement.
What do you want?
Look at you! Say this when the cat does something remarkable.
Want to go outside?
Want your treats?
Shush!
Yeah, you're my BEST girl. This is said while petting. May inspire jealousy if you have multiple female cats.
You'd be a BEAUTIFUL pair of mittens. Say this in a lighthearted way that makes the cat think you're being sweet, and then say "Har. Har."
Are you sad? Are you the saddest girl this side of the Baden Tower? Usually said in a mocking tone of voice, when the cat is upset about something trivial. You don't need to know where the Baden Tower is in order to say this.
What're you lookin' at? Not accusatory. Said when the cat is looking intently at something which you yourself can't see.
I'm sorry. Say this after a fight.
It's not that I don't love you, it's just that...well, you're a cat, and people would talk.
Who's my pretty cat? This is a rhetorical question.
Awww, puss-puss-puss. An affectionate statement.
What do you want?
Look at you! Say this when the cat does something remarkable.
Want to go outside?
Want your treats?
Shush!
Yeah, you're my BEST girl. This is said while petting. May inspire jealousy if you have multiple female cats.
You'd be a BEAUTIFUL pair of mittens. Say this in a lighthearted way that makes the cat think you're being sweet, and then say "Har. Har."
Are you sad? Are you the saddest girl this side of the Baden Tower? Usually said in a mocking tone of voice, when the cat is upset about something trivial. You don't need to know where the Baden Tower is in order to say this.
What're you lookin' at? Not accusatory. Said when the cat is looking intently at something which you yourself can't see.
I'm sorry. Say this after a fight.
It's not that I don't love you, it's just that...well, you're a cat, and people would talk.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Sherlock Holmes Solves Some Mysteries
The Case of the Oily Foundation
Even if you have a singularly oily T-Zone, purchase a non-greasy prep lotion such as the one marketed by Quo. It will give you that "fresh-faced lass" smoothness and also prevent your foundation from sliding off.
It was worth being mocked by a cosmetician to solve this case.
Yesterday's Gluteal Soreness
You're wondering why you woke up with a mysterious muscle-soreness running all down your right side? It's because you spent the day previous chasing a duckling under the cars in the parking lot. Seriously, Muffy, have you not yet learned that nature is cruel? You must rest your old bones.
The Mystery of the Early-Morning Cat
Have you not noticed that the cat ONLY does her early-morning yowling when the balcony door is open? Had it not occurred to you that this door lets in an uncommon amount of light, making the bedroom brighter than usual? Have you yourself not been fooled by this illumination?
It's not a wonder that your cat is being fooled, as she is dim-witted.
The Strange Case of the Rotting Vegetable Odour
It's garbage day, and all your windows are open! While YOU eat food which is so packed with preservatives that its half-life is measured in centuries, others eat fresh provender which decays more quickly.
So not to worry, my dear Muffy...that smell is coming from outside!
Even if you have a singularly oily T-Zone, purchase a non-greasy prep lotion such as the one marketed by Quo. It will give you that "fresh-faced lass" smoothness and also prevent your foundation from sliding off.
It was worth being mocked by a cosmetician to solve this case.
Yesterday's Gluteal Soreness
You're wondering why you woke up with a mysterious muscle-soreness running all down your right side? It's because you spent the day previous chasing a duckling under the cars in the parking lot. Seriously, Muffy, have you not yet learned that nature is cruel? You must rest your old bones.
The Mystery of the Early-Morning Cat
Have you not noticed that the cat ONLY does her early-morning yowling when the balcony door is open? Had it not occurred to you that this door lets in an uncommon amount of light, making the bedroom brighter than usual? Have you yourself not been fooled by this illumination?
It's not a wonder that your cat is being fooled, as she is dim-witted.
The Strange Case of the Rotting Vegetable Odour
It's garbage day, and all your windows are open! While YOU eat food which is so packed with preservatives that its half-life is measured in centuries, others eat fresh provender which decays more quickly.
So not to worry, my dear Muffy...that smell is coming from outside!
Thursday, June 05, 2008
A Lot of Small Things That Don't Deserve Individual Blog Posts
I am never in uptown Waterloo between 4:30pm and midnight, but today I walked home late in the afternoon -- enjoying the sultry air and the slowly easing humidity -- and I was shocked to find that a group of cool, wonderful people were congregated on EVERY CORNER.
I talked to one group of long-lost acquaintances, walked another block, and then talked to another group. All of us were part of a long, lazy line of good-natured chattiness.
What uptown Waterloo needs is a string of affordable sidewalk cafes.
Somebody has finally cleaned the fountain in the park beside the retirement home. For the last two months that fountain has been a stagnant pool of wet duck feces. I did enjoy watching toddlers try to climb into it as their parents screamed in terror, but I will enjoy it much more when it is sparkling and bubbling and cheerful again.
Until somebody puts dish soap in it.
Speaking of pranks, some happy-go-lucky hooligans have hung six pairs of shoes on the George St. power lines, presumably to practice their bolo-tossing skills. This is one of those enduring acts of vandalism that surely causes a headache for city workers, but which always looks sort of jaunty and harmless on the surface.
Bullet points look terrible in this blog template. That's why I'm writing in full paragraphs with bolded words as separators.
Yesterday at lunch I noticed that something was stuck in my teeth, and after a bit of wrestling I pulled it out...and it was a tiny chunk of enamel. Since I didn't eat a "bacon, lettuce, and enamel" sub that day I could only assume that it was from my very own teeth, and I scheduled a dentist appointment for today.
They looked in my mouth and confirmed that, yes, a piece of one of my molars had chipped off. They considered this to be strange but didn't seem particularly worried. I stopped being worried too once I found out that the repair would be covered by my insurance.
I am still waiting for my new iMac to arrive, which I ordered almost three weeks ago. This is like anticipating Christmas but having people keep moving the date back, until by Valentine's Day you don't care much anymore.
If anything, my cat's morning "yowl-a-thon" is growing all the more intense. She is, in fact, yowling at me right now. I really do think that this is a function of her age, as suggested by Eli in the comments.
Thank goodness the American Democratic primary is finished. I was seriously losing sleep.
I talked to one group of long-lost acquaintances, walked another block, and then talked to another group. All of us were part of a long, lazy line of good-natured chattiness.
What uptown Waterloo needs is a string of affordable sidewalk cafes.
Somebody has finally cleaned the fountain in the park beside the retirement home. For the last two months that fountain has been a stagnant pool of wet duck feces. I did enjoy watching toddlers try to climb into it as their parents screamed in terror, but I will enjoy it much more when it is sparkling and bubbling and cheerful again.
Until somebody puts dish soap in it.
Speaking of pranks, some happy-go-lucky hooligans have hung six pairs of shoes on the George St. power lines, presumably to practice their bolo-tossing skills. This is one of those enduring acts of vandalism that surely causes a headache for city workers, but which always looks sort of jaunty and harmless on the surface.
Bullet points look terrible in this blog template. That's why I'm writing in full paragraphs with bolded words as separators.
Yesterday at lunch I noticed that something was stuck in my teeth, and after a bit of wrestling I pulled it out...and it was a tiny chunk of enamel. Since I didn't eat a "bacon, lettuce, and enamel" sub that day I could only assume that it was from my very own teeth, and I scheduled a dentist appointment for today.
They looked in my mouth and confirmed that, yes, a piece of one of my molars had chipped off. They considered this to be strange but didn't seem particularly worried. I stopped being worried too once I found out that the repair would be covered by my insurance.
I am still waiting for my new iMac to arrive, which I ordered almost three weeks ago. This is like anticipating Christmas but having people keep moving the date back, until by Valentine's Day you don't care much anymore.
If anything, my cat's morning "yowl-a-thon" is growing all the more intense. She is, in fact, yowling at me right now. I really do think that this is a function of her age, as suggested by Eli in the comments.
Thank goodness the American Democratic primary is finished. I was seriously losing sleep.
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