Poop House

Last weekend I felt like I should be somewhat productive.  We've been lacking in ambition during the winter months.  (Kind of frustrating seeing as those are the prime opportunities to do work around the house, but I digress.)  Since we began building Gage's new bedroom quarters we have lost valuable real estate when it comes to storage options.  The one quarter of the basement that has remained untouched  had turned into a catch-all.  So we sorted that chaos out.   In the process of this cleansing Eric decided to amend the kitty pooping area sitch. 

Up until the walls came down connecting the finished and unfinished parts of the basement the kitties had the luxury of going to the bathroom in peace.  But since Eric was framing in a new wall, Dempsey has had free range of a kitty poop buffet.  Dogs are so gross.  Eric decided to help Dempsey avoid painful teasing of poop breath by his peers and designed a new poop house for the cats (I think I like the word poop).  Little did he know that I'd be coming home with the answer to his problems. 

At work we had a couple cremation container lids sitting around taking up space in the funeral home storage.  (When we cremate the rental casket after so many uses, we don't require a container lid thus we had two laying around without an option of disposal as they won't fit in our dumpster at work.)  I had originally thought I might be able to coerce Eric into building me a window bench using the wood but upon inspection he found a better use of them. 

 

I'm content with the end result and I'm glad we've cleared up room at work, and tidied up our space at home too!  It's environmentally friendly to boot!  I was worried at first that with the lid closed the cats wouldn't have enough vertical space to poop in comfort, but the evidence left behind suggest they have adapted quite well.  I promise no pictures of the evidence.  It didn't take long for their curiosity to get the better of them, I mean I wasn't even finished taking pictures of the finished product. 

Hidden Gem

Every single time (without a hint of exaggeration) that we take Dempsey over to the dog park we are questioned on what kind of breed he is.  We were told by the SPCA that they suspected a mix of Greyhound, Pit Bull and Sheppard.  And I can honestly see characteristics and traits of all three.  However there have been a few people on separate occasions who have challenged our response.  They are insistent that our sweet Dempsey is in fact an Egyptian Pharaoh Hound.  So Eric took it upon himself to do a little research into the appearance of these hounds and well I'll be dipped, we're pretty sure our buddy boy is one of these things.  Well, at least a cross of some sort. 

Upon seeing all these familiar pictures I then researched this breed of dog to see if he matches up with more than just appearances.  And man, does he!  He hits every single personality trait possible. So I'm pretty sure he's a cross with one of these expensive pups (average about 3-5 grand to buy a pure bred puppy) and I'd say we got ourselves a sweet deal with our hundred dollar shelter rescue.  Kijiji and garage sales, look out!  I even do well adopting live stock. 

Too bad we didn't know or realize what kind of dog he was before we named him otherwise we'd have named him Perry Pharaoh.  Heh-heh-heh get it?  Perry Farrell whom I adore of Jane's Addiction?  Hmm, eh, nothing eh?  Nevermind. 

Pure Bred, though he looks just like Dempsey without the brindle colouring.

Our version



 

Animal Planet

A few times a year I try to get away for the night to the big city with some of my favourite ladies (and sometimes even a couple of 'gents) for an evening of dancing and drinks. 
I need to make a disclaimer right off the hop that my intentions when I go dancing is to do just that, dance.  Even when I wasn't in a relationship my reasoning was the same.  I love to dance.  I love to lose myself on the dance floor.  I often close my eyes and just feel the music and move.  I don't take much stock of what's going on around me (unless of course there is a train wreck near by and then I won't be able to peel my eyes off her/him), I'm just in the zone. 

Often during all these times I sneak moments to look around and watch it all unfold around me.  The mating dance if you will.  The dance floor can often turn into its own episode of Animal Planet.  On Animal Planet they film it so we, the viewers, can watch the animals stalk their prey on the open terrain.  It's not much different at the bar just more confined quarters.  I can almost, quite literally, see the pheromones emitting from the males when they pounce upon a girl ( the prey).  The energy that exudes from them when they are in hunting form is intense.  They do not take no for an answer very easily, but when they finally do, they just quickly move on to the next.  They probably think they can coerce their way through our force field.  Oh and look out if one of the targeted prey is an easy target or a willing target.  All gloves are off with regards to the other hunters.  The only difference between the bar and Animal Planet is the subjects in one are dressed better than the other (I'll let you decide if I'm talking about the animals or the bar hoppers). 

This past Saturday was no exception to this rule.  The hunters were in fine form on the dance floor and the prey were easily coerced.  I saw a lot of gross 'mating' going on, if you will.  So to the pathetic animals who joined us on the dance floor, I say thank you.  Thank you for providing me with 5 hours of additional entertainment over and above my beloved dancing. 

Dog Parking

Today it was so beautiful outside, we decided it was finally the right time to take Dempsy to the dog park.  From the moment I walked through the double fence it was crystal clear to me and the others that I was a newbie and out of sorts.  Eric was lagging behind me and I since I was alone and not quite sure how Dempsy would react with the other dogs I played it safe and kept him on his lead.  Dead giveaway number one right?  I stood out like a sore thumb to the other dog moms and dads (God, I hate that saying).  I mean who goes to the dog park and makes their dog stay on his leash?  Ahaha, this girl. 

After Dempsy spotted a couple other dogs playing, I decided it was do or die time so I let him off his lead and was immediately scolded by the other humans because I didn't take his prong collar off.  Uhm, what?  Oh nevermind it's just a choker, you're good.  Phew, thank goodness I was good, cause I could tell a scolding would have followed. Yeesh.  Holy pressure at the dog park, and not the warmest welcoming, that's for sure!

I think most of us, who have common sense, can figure out the basic etiquette at the dog park:

If your dog doesn't play nice, go home.
Pick up after your dog.
Have your dog vaccinated.
Don't bring a dog in heat into the park.
Leave small children at home.

But there are other dog park 'unwritten' rules out there.  Oh don't kid yourself.  Rules that us green dog owners need to learn, and quick before we end up shunned like we're in high school again (and believe me, there are cliques at the dog park).  In the half an hour that I was there it didn't take me long to realize that these doggy parents police (I think they make up their own laws too) that park pretty strictly and have ZERO problem telling other dog owners where they are slacking (and I thought moms were the judgiest of all, moms of dogs are far, FAR worse).  I think I need tougher skin. 

So today I learned that I should never, ever bring a ball.  (How do I make a sad face?  And what if there are no dogs around for Dempsy to play with?)  I get that you probably shouldn't use a ball if there are other dogs around, I'm not an idiot.  I understand that it could create a territorial behaviour from mine or someone else's pup.  But I felt like a scolded 5 year old when I was told to "lose the ball".  No hello, no f*ck you, just LOSE THE BALL.  Just like that, after the scolding about a non existant collar that was the next sentence out of their mouths.  Sometimes I hate people. 

I also learned we should bring some water.  I guess I assumed there would be a water station/fountain/tap like at the city owned cemeteries.  Wrong.  There is a community water bowl though.  Go figure.  My dog drank a lot of other people's water today.  I'm a bad dog mom. 

And for the love of all things canine, we humans no longer have our own identity.  You do not ask another human being's name once you are inside those fences (I felt like I was at an AA meeting).  We, as individual people, no longer exist.  I am merely Dempsy's Mom.  Ugh.  This reason alone makes me not want to ever go back to the dog park.  But since he enjoyed it so much today and it was a decent experience for him overall, we likely will try it out again. 

This time I'll be prepared.  This time I shall trade the ball for the water.  This time I won't be so 'green'.  This time I might throw the 'tude back at them (I figure if I pretend to know what I'm doing in the confines of those fences I can probably pull it off) when they make me feel like the worlds worst person.  I'm kind of glad my boy Demps didn't go over to them when they called his name.  I'm glad he ignored her.  *Now how to I make a sticking out my tongue emoticon on here? 

This Moment {4} - Part two!

 

Roan had been bugging me incessantly about taking him to the Humane Society for a visit with the kitties.  So finally one afternoon I was able to scoot out of work early for whatever reason and take him.  I made sure to tell him I had no intentions whatsoever of adopting a new cat as we had three at the time and that was more than enough!  Eric also made sure that "DO NOT BRING ANY ANIMAL HOME." was the last thing he said to us as we backed out of the driveway.  (He tries so hard to be tough about animals....pfft) 

We got there and this little black cat with the worlds biggest personality immediately took to Roan.  Roan was bent over petting another cat and this black one jumped right up on his back and laid down, made himself right at home.  He's a smart kitty as in that moment Roan was smitten.  Roan begged me and pleaded with me to let him bring this cat home.  After all, I had a cat, Gage had a cat and Eric had a cat, it would only be fair right?  So I ask about the cat and was told that because we had three cats we weren't in the running to adopt this little guy as our town has a bylaw that only permits 3 cats per household.  Roan was heartbroken and on the verge of tears.  An immediate change in his character.  The girl at the Humane Society felt terrible and went to task on our behalf and got them to override the 'rules'.   So homeward bound we were. 

Eric immediately gave us his look of disapproval when he spotted the box in the backseat of the car.  And he guffawed at us that we adopted a black cat.  Black cats were assholes and stupid and no fun at all.  I assured him this wasn't the case with this little man, Shakespeare.  And the cat immediately proved me right.  Eric fell madly in love with this guy and stole him away from Roan. 

As I mentioned above he's got a humongous personality.  He's crazy laid back as you can see from the above photo.  He took to all of us right away with no weirdness or adjustments.  This was how he slept from the start.  Didn't seem phased that we were posing Bionicles on his body as he sawed logs.  He's a talker, he's a licker (and loves to have face love with us), he digs Eric's beard and often grooms us if we let him.  He sleeps with us, he shows up in the shower with us, he's playful and loves to go outside (we only allow him out with us while he's on a leash with harness).  He's a great hunter and makes sure that no mouse gets out alive (my hero).  He will reach up against us and put both his front paws on either side of our face and rub his head against ours (almost hug-like).  He's a great little find.  Just more proof that animals from shelters can wedge a place within your family and heart.  He's changed our stance on black cats forever.  He's truly awesome.  He's our Mitter Man. 

Shelter Dogs

So I heard a rumour that it's National Adopt a Shelter Dog Month.  Huh?  Who makes these things up?  I suppose it doesn't really matter as long as this title brings attention about adopting shelter dogs to the forefront.  I've decided to post about this because at the end of August I, myself, (much, MUCH to the chagrin of my mate) adopted a dog from a shelter.  Yes, I am WELL aware that I'm not a dog person (I've been reminded of this incessantly since I brought him home).  I've, 100%, touted the benefits, pleasures and ease of having cats for well...my whole life actually.  Here's our story. 

I grew up always having animals in my house.  We had cats, we had a dog.  I always felt a connection with the cats (though not all of them).  The dog was fine, I tolerated him.  He was a good boy, but like most dogs, he could be a pain in the ass too.  But you know what?  He knew when I was sad or feeling lousy and he always hung around to make sure I got through what I needed to get through.   I have lots of funny stories about Max the dog, so I'll always remember him and compare every other dog in my presence to him. 

Fast forward to about 5 years ago.  I'm a single mother with a 10 year old and a 6 year old at home.  I'm working full time and everything that needs to be done in a day falls on my shoulders.  So that's a perfect time to adopt a new puppy right?  Totally, pfft.  Man just typing it out makes me shake my head and wonder why I didn't see the insanity of this idea back then.  The picture in my head of a family dog for my sons was just too alluring.  So hunting for a breeder began and the mission to add a new four legged dog to our mix had commenced.  (Just the thought of my puppy experience sends shivers down my spine.)  The dream was lovely, just not realistic.  I couldn't take the incessant whining when she was crated at night. I couldn't handle the added chores of cleaning up pee and poop.  She didn't listen and would dart into the street and run from us.  She got into everything and chewed anything that fit (or frankly didn't fit) into her mouth.  I'm embarrassed and a little saddened to inform you that I'm not going to end this little story with a happy finish outlining how we all adjusted, she got better and we have a cozy relationship now.  Nope, that didn't happen.  What happened is I called the breeders and asked to return her, out of fear that I'd kill her or my children (don't worry, it likely would have been her).  The happy part of this story is two-fold.  She was adopted that very night, following her return, by someone who had adopted another pup from the same litter.  She was going to be living with another dog on a farm (no really, a real farm not the 'farm in the sky').  Perfect for her.  And I learned that I just couldn't handle a puppy.  Not then, not likely ever.  It's was harder than having a newborn baby.  And the patience needed?  I just don't have.   Lesson most definitely learned. 

Now jump ahead to August of this year.  Gage and I spent a day volunteering with the Hamilton/Burlington SPCA during their weekend Adopt-a-thon (They adopted around 100 animals out that weekend, magnificent!).  Gage was able to earn 8 out of the 40 hours of community service that's required to graduate high school and I love animals, so why not?  Hey, I'm not a troll!  Upon our arrival we immediately spotted the dog who would soon become Dempsy.  He was gorgeous, absolutely the most handsome pup in the place.  Gage fell for him, hard.  We took him outside for a run and hang out time and called Eric just to get a feel for his thoughts.  He was adamant we do not come home with this dog.  Gage wouldn't let it go.  For 8 hours I listened to him beg and plead for us to take this dog home.  Those eyes...they got to him.  I thought there is absolutely no way he's still going to be here at the end of our shift so I told Gage we'd give it some serious thought if he was still around.  I was wrong.  He had an adoption clause on him that he was not to go to a home with children, so he was out of the running for most of the families that walked through the doors that day.  (They just didn't know him that well as they'd only had him a week and didn't want to take a chance.)  So back outside we went with him and another phone call to Eric.  And here we are.

Today Dempsy has become part of our family and is continuing to delve deeper into our mix each day.  He's such a good boy.  They figure he's about 2 so there is still some puppy in him but he's so, so, SO much better than a puppy.  He was house trained and crate trained.  He listens when we call him.  He stays in the backyard.  He doesn't attack our cats (not violently anyway).  He does chew slippers and shoes (much to Gage's dismay) and he's not terribly good about leaving us alone to eat (yet).  He could also stand to use a little work on the whole not pulling on the lead while walking thing.  He's the best at playing catch and he brings back the ball!  Whoa!  He can be a little nippy still when he wants you to come with him or pet him or he gets excited.  But he's so much better now at not jumping up on people than he was when we first got him.  He also knows how to sit, shake paw and lay down (thanks Eric!).  And if we keep him stocked with raw hides and chew toys, he tends to leave our slippers and shoes alone.  If you 'ignore' him long enough he'll just lay down and chill.  We lucked out, he's really a good boy.  Similar to Max the dog.  One day he'll get there.  He's still got a few wiggles to work out. 

So my point is to remind those that there are good dogs, even great dogs at the SPCA and animal shelters in your area.  Don't just assume because they're in a shelter that they are problem dogs.  There are many reasons why someone turns an animal in.  Not all because of the animal.  Spend some time with them before you make the committment, take them out to play, walk them, get to know their personality and how they jive with you.  You could end up finding a real treasure.   Have you rescued an animal from your local shelter?  What was your experience like? 

This Moment {4}

If you're new to my blog (thanks to the October blogging challenge) and keep coming back then you'll soon learn that every Monday I have a ritual.  **I've borrowed an idea from Janine over at Reflections From a Redhead who borrowed it from Thom at To Gyre and Gambol, who initially borrowed it from Cath at Just My Thoughts. So I too have started a Monday ritual.

One image will be posted. No words will describe it. It will capture a moment from my past - memories that I cherish. Then on Friday I will post part 2 of this new ritual where I will share the story behind the photo. This borrowed idea is called {This Moment}.

Off With Yer Head!

I'm not sure if there has been a shift in the atmosphere or what the situation is/was but I feel like the bees were extra 'in your face' this year.  They were everywhere.  I killed more bees than flies this summer.  I feel mildly bad about it because, well... bees are good for our environment.  No human activity or ingenuity will ever be able to replace the amount of work that bees do for our world.  They are a huge reason we have fruits and vegetables.  In essence, they are also a critical component to us having livestock who feed on plants that continue to thrive because of bees and all the cross pollination that they do. 

Sorry, see?  I'm feeling so bad I felt the need to give you a mini science lesson to explain why I feel morose (not really) when I kill a bee.  But this particular post isn't about me killing a bee, it's about Eric killing a bee.  Not just hitting it and causing internal damages (thus leading to death) with the fly swatter, but actually unknowingly (and lacking any real skill to be able to pull it off again) perfectly beheading a bee and in the process snuffing it's life out of it.  (If they would just learn to leave us the hell alone and stay the f*ck out of my cans of pop while I'm trying to drink them, then we could all co-habitate on the same piece of property.)  

It was cleanly severed from the body and left in perfect form.  That's the bee head down there sitting on top of Eric's Zippo lighter so you get the idea of how small it is.  He would have never been able to pull that off had he been trying.  What a fluke.  Seemed appropriate to mention, what with all the dismemberments going on in our country lately (too soon?).  I was being sarcastic with that last sentence.  I wonder what it means to wake up to a severed bee head in your bed....

I wonder how we could mount and display this.  A new trend maybe?

Tank Dempsy

I like the idea of volunteering.  It saddens me that my life is kind of busy and when it's not busy I'm recuperating from its busy-ness (I'm digging the word busy right now.  Clearly.)  I wish I had more time to volunteer to help others.

Last weekend I donated my time and Gage's time to assist the Hamilton Burlington SPCA run an Adopt-a-thon.  Their goal was to adopt out 125 animals in honour of their 125 years in service.  They reached 96 I believe, which is a huge milestone.  One of those 96 happened to be a new puppy for the R-C-M household.  Sorry, let me be clear, he's not a puppy but in my eyes all dogs are puppies.  He's 18 months to 2 years (they think) and he's wonderful.  Wonderfully cute and only a little frustrating as demonstrated in the pie chart below.

Pie charts are fun!

So, much to Eric's dismay Gage and I fell in love with this sweet boy.  (Weirdly I could not shake the song "How Much Is That Doggy In The Window?" all day.)  We took him out for a walk early in the day and I had convinced myself that he'd be adopted for sure as the day went on.  Well, alas, the end of our shift neared and poor "Jermaine" (or Jamal or Jerome depending on what staff member or person you asked) hadn't been taken out for a look-see once!  So of course Gage and I felt inclined to take him out to play in the grass one more time.  And then he lured us in with those big brown puppy dog eyes of his.  (Eric said he couldn't help it, he's a dog, but whatever!)

We hadn't completely settled on a name yet.  We were thinking of Radar because his ears are so big they're like satelites, but then Eric came up with Tank Demspy (from Call of Duty) and I'm pretty ok with that.  We'd just call him Dempsy.  So I think that's where we are leaning now.  He's completely awesome with the cats, basically acknowledges them and then just ignores them.  He's a little hyper when he comes out of his crate but I suppose that's to be expected (he's probably so relieved that we keep coming back for him).  He's house trained which is a humungous relief to this lady and he doesn't leave our yard (or presence really) when he's outside.  He's still working out what gentle means with Roan, but Roan is also still working out what firm and in charge means too, so they're an ongoing project.  He walks pretty good on a leash but still needs to master what heel means.  We'll get there though.  He knows how to sit and we're working on 'lay down' and 'shake paw' now.  And he's picking it up! 

So all in all, I am not feeling regret yet at bringing a dog home considering that was actually the last thing on  my mind!  But it does lead me to wonder;  what would happen if I volunteered at a home for the aged...maybe I'd bring home a new grandpa?  Do you volunteer?  How do you donate your time? 

Stray Cat Strut

Everyone who knows us are aware that we are most definately cat people.  We recently had 5 cats but unfortunately lost one to illness in the spring and lost another just prior to that because she was being picked on and targeted by the other cats.  We were able to find her a lovely home where she is queen of the castle and spoiled rotten, so I'm content with that decision.  I'm not going to lie, the silver lining in these two heartaches was that we were now down to 3 cats.  A managable number. 

Fast forward to a little over a week ago when that kitty up there ^^ roamed up our driveway straight into Eric's cat loving heart.  It didn't help that she was a "tortie" which happens to be his favourite kind of kitty.   She was underweight, clearly starving and probably dying of thirst (quite literally) with this heatwave.   So we've been feeding her and giving her pets.  She's super friendly and affectionate once she gets past the initial fear.  She's a talker too, which I love.  She's got some battle scars so we've been worried about her.  Thank goodness one of  my best friends happens to be a vet tech so, like usual, I called upon her expertise and help. 

Today, LB took Sputnik (as Eric has taken to calling her) to her work with her and had the vet check her over.  She was tested for Feline leukemia and HIV, thankfully she was negative to both.  She was treated for ear mites and fleas, microchipped, vaccinated for rabies and given antibiotics for an eye infection.  She was just about to go under the knife for a spaying but it was discovered that she was already fixed.  What?  That means she's someone's kitty yet I haven't seen any posters up or anything.  I can't believe someone would just dump a cat.  That breaks my heart.  Anyway, we've agreed to foster her for the time being so someone is around to give her her meds on a regular basis and get her used to living in a home, other people, cats, etc.  We're secretly hoping she's going to adapt to the other three cats and if so, then we can outright adopt her.  However, if she doesn't we aren't on the hook to find her a home on our own.  She will be returned to LB's work and they'll adopt her out.  Win-win! 

So I guess the point of my story there is to bring me to the controversial subject of whether or not it's good to feed stray cats.  The opinions probably sit around 50/50. 

I believe the answer is yes, of course it's a good idea.  That poor cat didn't choose to live out on the streets and be a rebel.  It was dealt that hand and any help to give it some fighting chance isn't a bad thing.  I've learned recently how important it is for cats to eat and drink with frequency or their liver starts to shut down.  I can't imagine living on infrequent meals from a garbage can or the odd mouse or bird is beneficial and during the winter those options minimize even more.   I would think most stray cats are suffering from starvation. 

I understand there are several different reasons someone might be hesitant to feed a stray.  One fear is that they'll continuously procreate.  Well just because they have a full belly doesn't make them more inclined to find a tomcat and "do it".  It's called animal instinct for a reason, regardless if they are hungry or not.  You feeding a hungry, scared cat isn't going to drive them into the arms paws of another. 

Sometimes people hesitate to feed a stray because they fear the cat will never leave.  This is probably true, but who cares??  Are you that insensitive and yucky that a kitty won't make you smile?   Cat food costs so little in the big picture.  I get that you don't or won't want to take on the expenses of maintaining a cat with a vet, but just to put some food out each day?  Really?  That's hard?  Think about the difference you'd be making in that cat's life.

People might worry about attracting other wildlife by feeding these cats and that could also be true too if you leave the food out over night.  My suggestion is to merely bring the food and water dish in during the night.  Simple as that. 

I guess one of the biggest drawbacks to feeding a stray is that your neighbours often won't be on board with you.  We're quite lucky in our neighbourhood.  Everyone around us seems to love cats as well.  Last summer our neighbour across the street was feeding a stray and eventually found him a forever home.  So that's not a huge concern to me.  And frankly if that's all your neighbours have to complain about regarding you and your household, then they can suck it up.  You could be doing far worse things. 

My hope is if you see a kitty who is clearly in need, take time out of your day to try to win its trust.  Put some food out for him.  Talk in soothing tones.  Sit quietly with patience and maybe he'll approach you and allow you to show it some compassion.  Once you've acquired his trust, you'll be in a better position to capture him and take him to your local shelter where he will hopefully be adopted out to a forever home. 

There are so many other species sharing this world with us.  We happen to be the dominant one so why shouldn't we do our best to make things easier for the others?   If you see a dog wandering free, do it a favour and call the local humane society to come pick him up before he is hit by a car.  Animals do quite well on their own for the most part, but we live in a part of the world with dramatic weather changes and sometimes it's just too hot or cold to be subjected to the elements.  As the 'smartest' inhabitants on this planet, lets do our part! 

Sad Day, Hoppy Day!

This little guy is an inhabitant of my backyard.  He makes me feel better about all the dandelions that have taken over in place of a yard made of grass.  I kind of wish he had a hankering for pricker bushes more though.  Anyway, the other day I was driving up the busier street that runs parallel with ours and there was (sadly) a squished dead bunny in the street. 

NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!  Not Peter Peter Dandelion Eater!  I actually felt a pang of disappointment and sadness.  I'll miss his little squishy (no pun intended) nose and watching him hop, hop, hopping along. 

But wait for it.....

Then I saw him AGAIN!  I saw all those things I was going to miss, not the squished on the road version.  He's ALIVE!  Or zombified.  (And I know there is absolutely NO way that there could be more than one little rabbit.  Nope, just him!)  Oh hoppy day!

And in unrelated news, I have made it easier for you to keep tabs on my dull existance, by signing up for email notifications when I update!  The robots are making our lives just too easy!  Soon, they will be able to write my blog for me.

Crazy Cats



Just a random post of two of our crazy cats doing what they do best.  Act silly and adorable all at the same time.   That is all.  Enjoy the cuteness x 100. 

Found like this at 4:30 in the morning.  I actually had to go find my camera.

And the Squirrely-girl playing peek-a-boo!

 

Kitty Bunk Beds

Hello faithful readers!

I am so pleased to announce that I've completed two more crafty projects!  Only one is getting highlighted here because my house is its permanent home and the other is being gifted to someone so I'll wait to post about it until it's delivered to its forever home. 

Because I was so pleased with the outcome of my doggy bed project for Margie's sweet Boston Terrior Elliott, I (with the encouragement of Roan) decided to keep my eyes open for potential prospects to make a kitty bed for our house. 

Eric came across a similar table to the one used in the first project but instead of an octagon top, it's a round top and (I think) a little bit taller.  It sat in my craft room for a week or so before I got to it and Oliver took up residence.  I hope he likes the finished project just as much! 

So I followed the same steps as the first project by removing the doors and hardware and giving it a light sanding this time instead of peeling off all the veneer.  Also, because my living room isn't nearly as bright as Margie's I used more muted tones. 

I'm still trying to decide if I should do any sort of stenciling on it or just leave it plain like it currently is.  I'm a pretty plain girl.  It's been moved into my living room as that's the room I had in  mind for it when I created it.

So the table cost me $5.00 at Value Village.  The paint I used was the same paint I painted my living room with so that was free.  The material I used for the padded beds was left over material from my curtains when I converted them into blinds so that too was free!  And the stuffing I used on the padded beds came from old throw pillows I had laying around that were just taking up space.  Again, FREE!  All in all, this bed cost me nothing but the time I invested into redoing it. The only other thing I'm contemplating doing is adding a strip of velcro to the top of the bed so the top pillow doesn't fall off each time the cats jump down.  It hasn't so far, so if it doesn't become a problem, I won't bother. 
Not a bad finish considering I only spent about 4 hours total on this project.  It matches my living room perfectly. From the matching wall colour to the matching beds/blinds.  A sweet addition to my mono-chrome home!

The Tribe Has Spoken

We've come to the conclusion that after losing both Tabouleh and Nika within a month of each other the other cats have decided they are in a game of Kitty Survival.  It's an all out, who can be cuter and loved the most so as not to get tossed from the island. 

I have a hard time making the bed when they are all adorable like this. They don't seem to care that this positioning makes sleeping comfortably for us HOO-mans difficult.  Our kitties are the best.  For reals.

With Appreciation

A huge, gigantic, heart-warming, genuine thanks to one of my favourite people.  First for all of her advice -  even when I didn't want to hear it.  She was 100% right.  Second, for bailing me out.  Third, for coming to my rescue when it felt like I was terrorizing and torturing my kitty in hopes of saving her life.  Fourth, for reassuring me, that Nika's most recent, additional illness was not as a result of anything I had done. And fifth, for the beautiful flowers letting me know she's a true friend who wholey understands the pain and anguish I was going through this past weekend. 

Thank you Lesley.  With all my heart.  I love you, and appreciate you. 

The Final Hours

For the majority of Kanika's final hours I had the house to myself.  I am actually grateful for the alone time I got to spend with her.  These are the final pictures I took before we said our final good bye. 

We've brought her home, wrapped in her orange blanket and buried her in a casket in our back yard with my other beloved kitty, Tabby, who passed away in the summer of '97.  I'd been hanging on to her cremated remains all this time not sure what to do with them.  I thought it was appropriate to put her remains in with Nika and bury them both here at my home. 

Nika's passing is still so surreal to me.  I think Oliver has finally figured out she's not coming back.  He's been acting funny and (I think) crying strange mews while wandering aimlessly.  Poor little guy. 

Kanika

December 20, 2004 - March 3, 2012



I will never forget you.  You were my favourite and I hope you know that.  I hope you didn't suffer and that your last days with me were comforting to you, as they were comforting to me.  Thank you for picking me as your 'person' and for making me so happy for seven years.  I will miss all of your Nika-isms.  You were an amazing soul.  I love you so much, and I'm so sorry. 

I hope the two of you find one another and keep each other company.  Godspeed Nika, right into waiting arms.  Take care of each other.

In the Quiet Moments...

I'm laying in my bed with my computer sitting in my lap.  I should be getting dinner ready or going to the gym like I had planned.  Instead I'm doing everything in my power not to move because beside me lays my most favourite kitty in the whole world who happens to be gravely ill.  She is my kindred kitty and to say I'm devastated would be an understatement. 

I'm choosing to stay here because I'm not sure how much time I have left with her and for right now, in this moment, it's just me and her.  It is very clear that she is comforted with me here beside her.  (She's trying her hardest to purr for me.) And I am comforted with her beside me.

I have always had cats in my life (thank you mom and dad) and for the majority of it I've always wanted a Siamese.  Seven years ago I brought one into my heart, my home and my life.  Kanika "Nika" joined me and the boys in the spring of 2005 after being born on my dad's birthday the previous December 20th.  She was my baby.  She was sweet and chatty and tiny and all together awesome.  Everything I had hoped for in a Siamese, I got.  She has adapted well to all the changes that have come her way in her 7 years.

Two days ago I noticed she wasn't her usual self and had lost what little weight she had.  The poor thing was just skin and bones.  We took her to the vet yesterday and they immediately put her on IV fluids as she was extremely dehydrated and ran a gamut of tests on her blood.   My Nika-bear has liver failure.  And barring doing a biopsy at an expense I just can't afford, we are taking a chance that the vet's guess is correct.  That out of the three options of liver failure she has the one that's treatable.  Fatty Liver Disease.  So for now, I've brought her home to administer drugs, and force feed her in hopes that she'll start to bounce back.  We will know within a weeks time if we guessed right or not.  She'll either start to perk up or continue to go down hill.  The silver lining if there must be one is that this type of disease doesn't cause them any pain.  The most she'll feel is bleh.  Similar to how we feel when we have the flu.  For that I'm extremely grateful.

So for now I'll sit quietly here beside her and relish in the knowledge that she picked me as her person in life and she still picks me as her person in sickness.  When I went to pick her up at the vet's today as soon as I spoke to her she immediately came over to me and laid her head in my hands.  She has found her way up on to my bed to lay beside me and keeps looking at me and purring.  She loves me and I love her.  It's seems so ridiculous to feel this way over a cat and I can't really wrap my head around how much this is hurting me and the anxiety and pressure I feel for her to get better.  I'm just not ready to lose her too.  So I'm gonna go and keep petting my cat.  I'm gonna do everything a human can do to reassure a cat that she is safe and loved.

A Kitty to Love

A couple of years ago, Eric and I adopted a kitty from the Humane Society.  A calico, Eric's favourite.  We named her Tabouleh, like the salad, because she was all multi coloured and mixed up.  She was quite skittish at first and hid out in our bedroom for a good couple of weeks before deciding torturing her and killing her weren't in our plans.  After some time she definately got comfortable in her surroundings. She took an immediate liking to Oliver, though her and Nika never really became 'friends'. 

After about a year living in our house, we spontaneously adopted the most adorable and personable black cat, Shakespeare, and welcomed him to our fold.  They seemed to like each other.  Maybe it was the familiar smell of the Humane Society that made them kindred spirits, who knows.  They slept together in sunbeams, they played together, they ate together - a happy little duo these two made.  Until about 6 months ago.  Six months ago, everything changed for this couple. 

During a round of rough housing, the cats knocked over a metal object and it came crashing down off the table and made a terribly loud noise, clearly scaring the crap out of both cats, who immediately went running for their lives.  But not before turning on each other and trying to maime and kill one another.  Since that day, they cannot be alone together or in close proximatey of each other without a full on battle ensuing.  I'm talking fur in claws, scratchs, blood, etc.  He can't go near her without her hissing and snarling, she can't go near him without him goading her and stalking her.  He torments the piss out of her.  And this always ends in a physical altercation.

So we've tried everything we can to make them like each other again.  We've segregated them for lengthy times, we've integrated them for lengthy times, we've forced them, in a supervised capacity, to spend time together, we've purchased and installed hormone diffusers, and we've taken them to the vet and introduced medication in hopes of calming them.  To no avail.  They simply cannot live together in harmony any longer.  Sadly the other cats are cluing in as to who the weaker link is in this terrible equation as well and Tabouleh is starting to act out.  Unfortunately, it looks like we have to find another home for the Tubster. 

So my point in writing this little blog is to ask any of you, my dear readers, if you know of anyone who is looking for a cat who does not currently have one or if they want two cats, who is willing to get a kitten after integrating Tabouleh into their household.  I believe she will be fine with another cat, provided she is the dominant kitty.  I do think though that the best situation for our girl is a home where she is the only cat and can roam freely without the fear of having the snot kicked out of her.

She is spayed, and very well tempered, though a little skittish.  A 'fraidy cat if you will.  We think she's around 3 years old.  She is litter trained and an indoor cat.  She's very independant and will come to you on her own looking for pets and affection.  She loves to eat!  Dry food mainly but enjoys a snack of canned food every other day or so.  She loves catnip and playing with her toys.  We don't want any money for her, we just want her to go to a home where she won't be scared and someone will love her.  We are willing to supply the litter box, she's up to date on her vaccinations and we will send her toys that she loves the most with her to help in her transition.  Please ask around.  We really don't want to have to take her to the Humane Society again.  We just want her to have a happy life. 

Geek Kitties!

So we've been on a 'mission' to build our own kitty tower for a few months now.  Roan drew up a drawing of what he would like us to build.  It was so big it would have monopololized my entire bay window.  We scaled it down keeping the look relatively the same.  We were so busy this summer (yeah!) that we didn't really get a chance to work on it too much.  Well last night I stumbled across a design that I am leaning towards...something to appease me and my need to 'hide' things and something to appease the geekiness of Eric.

A TARDIS kitty tower from Dr. Who!!  How ingenious. 

I have faith that Eric can build this.  Now I just need to find him some time to do it between job interviews!