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Posts Tagged ‘brought to you by cats’

(Disclaimer: This post includes some mild TMI. Don’t read on if you can’t deal with vomit or sweat.)

I forgot to tell you, reader, about how last Saturday went down.

  • Near the end of rehearsal, I started feeling very, very shaky; and soon nausea set in. Just as I was about to leave the studio, I realized “I better get home quickly, because I am about to throw up.”

(Have I mentioned this happened during a downpour of Biblical proportions? Because it did.)

  • By the time I made it to my exit, I was shaking like crazy. Once I got home I bolted to the bathroom and proceeded to throw up in a violent, painful way. This went on regularly for some five hours; until I finally calmed down enough to keep down some water and saltines.

It’s worth mentioning that Craig was out of town at this time. Even though I tried to distract myself by watching movies on my laptop, and random noise that I heard caused me to jump out of my skin.

  • I finally got ready to go to sleep, when I started sweating profusely. I’ve had night sweats before, and I thought this was part of my body’s way to rid itself of whatever had made me sick earlier… but that doesn’t make it any less unpleasant. Your pajamas are soaked and stuck to your skin; all your sheets and pillows because grossly damp, and you become aware of the fact that you don’t exactly smell nice.
  • Just as I drifted off, I heard my two cats making a racket. I looked over the edge of the bed, while I didn’t see anything, I could tell by their behavior that there must be a (big) bug in my room. I was NOT equipped to deal with bug-slaying at that moment, so I rolled over and prayed the cats would dispose of it (Sure enough: after mere seconds of hearing Steve claw at the carpet, I could hear him chewing on something that sounded…crunchy).
  • I drifted back off again, only to be awakened by Steve throwing up on the carpet…right next to my bed.
  • After hearing him scratch on the carpet some more, I discovered he was trying to bury his mess. With my laptop cord.

The next morning I woke up drenched in sweat, and proceeded to clean up cat vomit and look for the remains of The Alleged Bug (I didn’t find them. I guess that’s what made Steve sick?). Then I texted Craig and asked when he would be home, because we sure needed him.

Here’s to better Saturday nights.

 

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I’m quite sick right now (apparently being injured just WASN’T ENOUGH). Last night my husband brought in a plate of food and a glass of water into the room where I was resting, and left both on the bedside table. I didn’t reach for them right away (very drowsy/dizzy; thank you, Doxycic), and a few couple of seconds later I hear “Look at that cat!”

I roll over and look and the little fart is standing on the table, face in the glass, drinking my freaking water.

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Bugger.

The plate had chips on it, which I didn’t finish. When I woke up a bit later, he was eating one of the chips (he Has A Thing for tortilla chips).

Jeez, cat. Stealing food and drink from a sick woman!

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When I got home from church today, Craig mentioned that he hadn’t seen “KeyKey” (our biggest cat) all day.

I quickly realized that I hadn’t seen him, either, and started looking around for him. I checked under the beds and in the closets; I called his name, clicked my tongue*, and even got out the can opener. Nothing. He was nowhere in our apartment.

“I don’t understand why he would leave us,” I told Craig (KeyKey was rescued from the side of the road as a kitten, and doesn’t enjoy being outside for more than thirty seconds at a time).

“I don’t understand how he could leave.”

“You mean, besides the open windows and patio door?”

“So…. he jumped down from the balcony?”

I pointed out that it was a likely scenario (we’ve assumed that’s how Torgo escaped). And even though today’s chilly/wet weather made it seem even more unlikely he would have made a break for it; I decided to go outside and look around for him.

Down in our parking area, I called his name once, then heard a desperate-sounding meow.

***

I found our Big Kitty under our staircase, cowering in an old Rubbermaid tub He hollered and hollered as I walked toward him, and when I lifted him out of the tub (still wearing my church clothes of course), I noticed that his hind legs and tail were covered in mud. He meowed at top volume the entire way up the stairs.

***

The muddy cat squirmed out of my arms as soon as we got inside. Craig asked incredulously where I found him… while he tossed the kitty into the bathroom where I was washing mud off my arms. As he walked away he said, “Don’t let him out of there if he’s dirty.”

I started to call after him that washing a large agitated cat is really more of a TWO-PERSON job, but then I thought better of it (football was on). It wasn’t the first time I washed a big, muddy cat by myself; and it probably won’t be the last!

Except for some more meowing, KeyKey Kat stayed pretty calm while I washed & dried him. Then I let him run and hide under the bed while I cleaned the sink, tub, and bathroom floor/shampooed the muddy pawprints out of the carpet/vacuumed. Day of rest, my chest!**

Still, I’m so glad he didn’t go far– and that I found him right away. Don’t do that to us again, kitty kat. We love you too much.

*That’s how we “call” our cats when we give them treats. If you’re in our apartment and you click your tongue three times, you’re going to be surrounded by cats in about two seconds.

** It rhymed, okay?

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It’s 72 degrees here in Houston today, so the cats and I spent the morning on the back patio, cleaning it up and getting the containers ready for planting next month (well…I did, anyway. The cats just ran around in Holy crap, the human actually let us OUTSIDE! jubilation. Can’t say I blame them).

I can’t believe it’s almost garden time again!

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Staying optimistic.

We’ve been thrown an unexpected … curveball … recently.

No, I’m not pregnant. This is not a post about surprise pregnancy.

Everything was fine. Our life had fallen into a pleasant, peaceful routine; which we were looking to shake up by buying and moving to a nearby condo. dfszzseeeeeeeeeeezzzzzzzzzze*

Things have been shaken up, all right, but not the way we wanted. I won’t go into detail about it (not now, anyway), but I can tell you this: I know it’s nothing we can’t handle. We’ll get through it fine, but we’ll have to make some changes to our life. Changes that will not be easy or fun, but isn’t that how life goes?

I’m keeping optimistic– if nothing, else, for my husband. This has been a hell of a week for him (and it’s Wednesday); he’s feeling a lot of stress and a lot of pressure. I say prayers for him and try to be as supportive (and non-irritating) as possible. And I keep saying “It’ll be okay in the end.”

* That’s a bit of input from my cat, who was trying to walk on my keyboard while I was typing.

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There are a handful of stray and/or roaming cats in our apartment complex. They hide out under cars, prowl around the fishing hole for discarded bait, and occasionally wander up to an apartment to lounge on its porch. Our porch has been “visited” by roaming cats on at least three occasions– all sniffed around and left after a few minutes. So I didn’t think anything of it when I saw this little fellow up on our porch last Saturday morning:

I said hello to him, petted him for a few minutes (he was super-friendly and started purring immediately), then went on my merry way. When I returned a few hours later (with a new haircut), the cat was gone.

It was cloudy by then, and it got darker and darker as morning turned into afternoon. Just after lunch, a huge thundercloud opened up and we experienced the biggest rainstorm we’ve seen in five months! The rains were so strong that they blew over the tomato cages on our big plants– and threatened to blow over the plants themselves! I rushed outside and moved the plants under the roof and close to the wall, then fixed the cages and straightened up the plants (one was starting to lean precariously to the side). This took less than a minute to accomplish, but in that time I got soaked!

A few minutes after the plants were safe and I was dry, I heard a meowing sound– but not the same meowing sound that our cats make. When  went to the front door I found my little red-furred friend from that morning, soaking wet and squalling on our doormat.

I didn’t want to bring a strange cat into the apartment with my two cats (it might be worth mentioning that at the time, I thought he was actually a she. Apparently, I do not know my cat genitalia very well. I am completely okay with that), so I fixed up a box with some old materials and a little dish of food (hey, I’m not heartless) and it out on the porch. The kitty quickly climbed into the shelter and waited out the storm in there, happily munching on kitty kibble.

The storm went on for a couple of ours– rain coming down in sheets over the lake, thunder loud enough to shake the walls, and some impressive displays of lightning. It eventually slowed and stopped, and the sun came back out at the end of the afternoon.

The kitty was no longer in the box shelter by now, but was sprawled on our front porch as though he lived there. My husband and I decided to take him over to T, a single friend of ours who had been wanting a cat of his own. T loved the cat, texted us the next day about how sweet and cuddly and playful he was, and they lived happily ever after.

Or so we thought.

Cut to the middle of this week, when T is texting my husband asking him to please come and take the cat (now called “Little Missy,” since we still thought he was a girl)– he didn’t want it any more. Kittens are very active at night, and our poor friend works a lot and has to be up at 4:30 in the morning. This…was not working out well.

I contacted the woman from whom I adopted Torgo last year and was told to bring the kitten to Pet Adoption Day today. There, she took a look at him, said that he was pretty (he is) and sweet (he is, and how) and that he would probably get adopted right away (I don’t doubt it).

…She also told me that she didn’t have any cages for him today. D’oh!

Luckily, by this point we had learned A) he wasn’t a female, after all, and B) he had tested negative for Feline Leukemia and Feline AIDS. I quickly called my husband ad talked it over and we decided that the kitty (now with the less-effeminate moniker “Steve”) would stay with us, in our guest room, until we could bring him to Pet Adoption next Saturday.

So, now we have three cats in our apartment (a scenario which we’ve been trying to avoid, at risk of becoming Those People With All Those Cats); although they are kept separate. So far, everyone’s calm, but I’m a little worried about the first night. We’ll see how it goes.

I’ll update tomorrow–hopefully with pictures!

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Cat vs. Plant

We recently bought the  Burpee’s XL Ultimate Growing System to help us sprout some seeds. So far, we’ve only planted chives and mung bean. The chives…have not sprouted, and probably never will. The mung beans, on the other hand…

…are doing pretty well. They would be doing even better, in fact, if my cat stopped digging them up every day.

Torgo, the black-faced bean-disturbing bandit.

Mind you, he doesn’t eat them. He merely pulls them out of the peat with his teeth and lays them neatly on the carpet next to the tray so I can re-plant them (at least he’s courteous). We caught him in the act last night.

…and moments ago, as I was typing that last paragraph, I turned around and saw this:

Observer, aka "The Little Cat," just helping himself to some salad.

I think the lesson here is that indoor seed starters and my cats do not mix.*

*Alternate lesson: indoor seed starts are a great way to keep cats entertained.

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