Me 'n My Laptop

This is me at Blogher in ... SAN FRANCISCO!!!

Loved Sizzle's idea - I'm about to go to a conference with 999 other people.  I am but a tadpole in the blogging world.  Not even a tadpole.  I'm just a gleam in the daddy frog's eye.

1. I bought new bras for this conference.  The straps don't slip.  This is BIG.  I mean, this is big news, not big boobs, unfortunately.
2. I love San Francisco with the passionate passion of a thousand suns.  I'm trying to move there.  For so many reasons. 
3. Due to an unreasonable fit of temper, I quit my TypePad blog, and started a new one with Blogger.  Which resulted in the longest URL in the history of Blogville.  I think it would be kinder to provide the link, Me 'n My Laptop, rather than show it on this page.  There's only so much room.  This also caused a big problem with getting my cards on time, but it is done.  I paid extra for fast shipping - 7 to 14 days.  They got here in THREE days.  I want my money back.
4. I blog about daily life with 4 pets, having Multiple Sclerosis, pretending I don't have MS, and daily pictures of the pets.  I'll get on that "daily" any day now.  I also take pictures of Volkswagon Bugs, and Hearts.
5. Some of my readers seem to believe my dogs can talk.  I have no idea why they think this. 
6. My Halfway Honey bought me my first laptop, cause he didn't want me to be the only one at a blogging conference without a laptop.  I will be the one tearing my hair out cause Vista doesn't act much like Windows ME at all. 
7. He's also paying for my private room.  See why I like San Francisco?  He lives there.
8. He's not the reason I want to move.  Prepare for some sick sick love for a city that's gonna drop into the ocean when the BIG ONE hits.  Oddly, I want to experience an earthquake.  Told you it's sick. 
9. I'm coloring my gray roots for this conference, and then I'm gonna let it go gray.  My younger sister has gorgeous gray hair, and mine will look the same.  Only better. 
10. I love my dogs.  Walking them got me healthy again.  Not walking them has got me over-weight again.  Damn dogs. 
11. I live in a tiny 4 room apartment.  Kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom.  I have 2 dogs, Muttin/Jeff, and 2 cats Barf 'n Hiney.  I have to be nice to the mean landlord because she lets me have all four. 

This is me.  Pre-Teeth.  I photo-chopped the Christmas tree hanging on the wall behind me.  The dogs won't be with me at Blogher08 in SAN FRANCISCO, so I may not stand out in the crowd of 1000 bloggers, but I'll work on shining the gleam in the daddy frog's eye.

However... I will be bringing my secret boyfriend ... it's time our secret was brought out in the open.  We'll be available for pictures. 

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Totally different from each other

Aren't I so lucky?  I have one cat who lives for bringing me his hunting jobs.  I think the landlady hired him behind my back to keep the building free of live mice.  Why couldn't I luck out and not get a cat who felt the need to bring me his trophies, as if I'm supposed to mount them and hang them up on the wall?  How do I know there are cats who don't feel as if they have to bring in dead mice and throw them 7 feet up in the air, and bat them around until it goes too far out of his reach  under the couch? 

Because this is what Barf was doing the whole time Hiney was training a dead mouse to perform gymnastic type tricks in the air.  And yes, he did know there was a dead mouse in the house.  The Mouse Capades lasted well over a couple of hours by the time I decided I had had enough. 

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Lazy blogging

Hmmm.

Blogging. 

Staring at screen.

Listen to cats stomp.

Think I'll do some yoga

instead.

I got nothing. 

Cept stupid comments

like the cats are stomping.

I have stomping cats

who want to be

petted.

Try finding a cat door

that installs into a window.

Specifically, a vertical window,

which opens sideways.

Go ahead - I challenge you.

And if you do find it,

do let me know. 

Because I am beyond

frustrated with the Internet

right now.

Stupid Internet.

That is all.

*

A Letter to Barf

Barf.  Can we talk? 

It's really very irritating when you meow at me like ... a dripping faucet.  Meow meow meow, with perfectly spaced rhythm.  Must you be so loud?  I swear the neighbor is going to start complaining.  You're really the most demanding cat - and you act like the entire world is supposed to stop in order to meet your needs.  And just what are those needs, hmm?  Dry food at all times.  God forbid should that dish be empty for more than 5 seconds.  Then canned food late in the evening.  Like clockwork, at 10pm, when the news goes on, you're "reminding" me that it's time for the good stuff. 

And then there's the window. 

It's not every cat that has their own cat window that is left open at all times.  It drives me insane with how ugly it is to have a window open, and bubble-wrap used as the "door", but I do it for you.  Yes, it benefits me as far as the cat box is concerned, but still - I'd rather clean a cat box when there's a blizzard outside.  But nooooo - you go into panic mode when it's closed because ... why?  You tell me.  Truly, I'd like to understand.  Surely we could come to an agreement ... like when it's below zero, perhaps, can I close it?  That fit you threw the other night when it was 24 below?  Not so hot.  (Unless of course, I misunderstood and you were really raving about Jeff Gordon because the 24 below reminded you of the new Nascar season coming up?) 

Let's move on.  Chewing my hair in themorning when I'm still asleep.  Really - I can wake myself up.  You don't need to bother.  When I'm laying down in bed, that's a clue for you to give me my rest and relaxation.  Despite what you think, I WAS NOT put on this earth to serve you. 

Oh, and the tripping thing?  Not cool.  I would sincerely like to walk safely in my own home, please.  One of these days, I'm going to fall down and bump my head, be dead, and unable to feed you.  So I strongly suggest you lose that little habit.  The dogs don't appreciate the body slams either.  Your body blocks trying to keep them away from me don't help their jealousy issues AT ALL.  They need attention too, in order for all of us to be one happy family. 

I know I'm not supposed to say this, because it might give you self-esteem problems ... but why can't you be more like your brother, hmm?  I mean, he's so quiet and sweet, and well... much more dignified.  Cats aren't supposed to whine like you do.  Or be so needy.  Look at him, sitting there watching me make breakfast, so polite.  And QUIET.  All he ever does is chirp, at the most, and it's charming.  He chirps when I talk to him, to acknowledge he's heard me.  When I call him, I hear him chirp, as if he's telling me "Yes, I'm here, what do you need?"  Oh, and why can't you enjoy being petted like he does?  He cuddles, and curls himself around my hand or feet, and purrs like a refrigerater to show his appreciation.  You?   You purr when you're tripping me, and trying to block me from going into the bathroom.  I don't understand.  And frankly, it hurts my feelings. 

One more thing.  That thing you do when you're laying down in the hallway?  When I start to step OVER you, in order not to disturb your rest (cause I'm thoughtful that way), it's NOT cool to jump up suddenly and run to get out of my way.  I've already started the process of space avoidance, and you suddenly exploding creates a bit of physical drama for me, and again, I could end up dead and you unfed.  So Barf, THINK first, before you move.  Thank you.

You think you're special cause of your looks - everybody just makes over you like you're the King of Sheeba cause you are a pretty cat - gotta give you that, but your personality needs a bit of work, mkay? 

I mean ... I've totally reconsidered my entire living place because of you two cats ... me and the dogs would be JUST FINE moving to the other place, but it's you cats who have put a crimp in that.  People would complain about you two ... especially you, Barfie dear.  Cause you're an obnoxiously "in your face" type of cat.  I really don't want to get a ticket for having an unruly cat who is a bully towards the other resident's dogs.  Or for having a cat who sits on someone's window sills, and howls because you think they should be feeding you their tuna. 

So ... behave from now on, wouldya?  Be grateful I found you in my car before you boiled to death in the heat. 

*

Just Call Me Whipped

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P.S.  You're giving me flashbacks of Muttin's puppy hood.  Not pleasant memories, I might add.

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Aha!

I had an epiphany today while watching the handyman snow-blow a path around the courtyard and around the building.  Earlier, I had been outside in the parking lot, sweeping 8 inches of freshly fallen snow off the parked cars.  I did the same thing yesterday, only about 6 inches.  While doing so, I reflected within that I really enjoyed doing so - the sun was bright, the snow wasn't too heavy, and I knew most of the owners of the cars were either old, on walkers, in wheelchairs and they would appreciate it.  I get true joy out of doing for them, because I know how it feels to not be able to do things.  And it truly feels sooo good to be able to do it myself again.  On my good days.  To be thankful for the good days, I do for others. 

Regarding moving to next door town, for the purpose of being 3-4 blocks closer to the river, where there is a walking path going around the river, and it's plowed in the winter = safe walking. 

1.  Cats will be exposed to much more traffic, neighbors, other cats, etc.  They have back door patios, and my cats would be a bother.  Here, they pretty much have the run of the courtyard, and they bother no-one cause no-one goes out there very much.  We don't have outdoor acess to the courtyard.  They have the garden area to hunt mice, should they decide to become more like cats, rather than dogs.  They are safe from traffic. 

2.  The Curves in town is clear across town.  Here, there is a gym about 2 blocks away, and my walking route goes right next to it during the summer.  During the winter, the roads are slippery and dangerous. 

Our apartment handyman had a snow blower today, and he made a path around the courtyard, and around the building.  The snow is 2 feet deep back there.  It took the visual for me to realize that is all I need - keep a damn path cleared and I don't have to move away.  I HAVE to walk.  I've gained 15 pounds back, and I could care less about living again, and I KNOW walking will fix that. 

So, tomorrow, I am going to ask the landlady if she will commit to making a "sidewalk" for me in the winter, AND keep the garden area as a garden (she wants to plant grass), then I will stay here.  I couldn't ask for a better place for my animals.  The other issue was not being able to have bird/squirrel feeders.  She told the new guy that he could have one.  Hmmm. 

The other place (I'm next on the list to be called and someone is going to a nursing home, so it's close) allows 1 small pet.  I know I can get the two dogs approved, but the cats are iffy.  I TRIED not to get attached, but damn.  I am attached.  We are a family of five. 

As this epiphany was happening, I realized to what extent I've put my life on hold, because I have been planning to move for 3 years now.  San Francisco is going to be years, I'm afraid.  Unless I simply just go with no net underneath ... I'm not saying that I'm giving up - absolutely not.   

Also, the new guy that moved in whom has so much in common with me?  He and I have been walking together, and it's soooooo nice to have someone closer to my age around here that doesn't need help.  Plus the fact that he's not boyfriend material is a good thing, cause we don't have that "thing" that complicates boy/girl relationships.  He is an avid gardener too, and it will be soooo nice to have HELP out there, rather me being the one that does the majority of the physical work.  Al tho the in common stuff is starting to get creepy.  We both drive same year/make of car, we both used to drive Ford Explorers.  We were both molested by fathers, and babysitters.  We both used to work for Club Inc.  We both used to have the same counselor.  He sees auras and visions, as I do.  Oh.  Get this.  He collects hearts.  Yea ... like I said ...creepy. 

Anyways.  I am peaceful once again inside.  I'll join Snap Fitness again, and start living like I live here, instead of mentally packing up and jumping ship.  After moving furniture a couple weeks and making a walk-in closet, I have really been liking my apartment too. 

SanFranMan is obsessed by politics lately.  He really likes Hillary, to the point of imagining he and her have a personal relationship.  All in his mind.  He's been calling me every nite, and we argue about politics, and he talks about his daughter alot cause he's worried about her, and then we argue about Hillary and Obama some more.  I originally liked Obama, but ever since Hillary showed her human side a couple weeks ago, showing how exhausted she is, I have come to like her better than Obama.  He just doesn't have the experience, and she can hit the ground running, should she be elected.  Our country is finally accepting the fact that a woman can be president ... and it's a HUGE plus that the first woman president (possibly) just happens to have the best experience one could ask for ... she was a First Lady 7 years ago.  It's good Obama inspires and dreams - our country has hope again, I think.  Either one, tho, is better than any of the other contenders, and I'm pretty sure we'll have a Democratic president this time around.  Ideally?  Clinton and Obama on the same ticket.  Then 8 years for Clinton, and another 8 years for Obama ... just might fix the majority of our country's problems.  Medical insurance, the war, illegal aliens, the recession, Medicare being the top priorities.  Oh, and rebuilding our status as the greatest country in the world ...

I can't believe I veered off so much off the Epiphany Course. 

*

Just Call Me

Posting out of order, yes indeed I'm. It's called "blogging housework"

I have looked high and low for my prescription glasses.  For days.  I finally gave up a couple of days ago.  Today, I found them in ... the eyeglass case in my purse. 

Am flying out tomorrow.  Should not have any problems getting a seat.  Flying stand-by is an exciting adventure for me, because I'm a freeee spirit.  A free spirit who delights in freaking out my mother and sister, who can't fathom flying without a booked, paid for plane ticket. 

I've got to take the dogs to the kennel.  Sniff.  Can't stand the thought of leaving them in a cage, and walking away from them.  Cause you KNOW I have to take them in myself, and arrange their beds and bedding, and water bowl.  Oh shoot, I need to make sure I have enough chicken. 

I'm not organized at all, cept for my suitcase - it's all packed.  For the first time EVER, I'm only taking one suitcase, and it's a carry-on.  Those who know me, know what a momentous event this is.

Would anyone know why my Firefox browser is all wonky?  It is only showing a white background, with the words in blue or purple, and that is on all websites.  Irritating.

I'm about to be released from my time with PPGuy. 

UPDATE:  He's been taken to the hospital, yes!  So relieved not to have that burden anymore.  It's been a moral dilemma, buying his beer, when it's the reason for all of his problems, medically, physically, mentally.  What no-one seems to understand is I didn't want to be responsible for him going thru the DT's without medical attention.  Quitting the drinking cold turkey, as bad off he is - not a good idea.  And as of today, he's got a daily nurse to make sure he takes his insulin, home health, who will do his housework, laundry, and cooking.  Also a daily PCS, who will make sure he showers, etc.  I quit doing everything but the cooking about 2 weeks ago, cause he didn't do one damn thing he promised to - not even flush the toilet, which is important because he flooded his apartment sometime ago, simply from not flushing his toilet.  He hasn't eaten for 4 days.  I'm just so glad not to have this on my shoulders anymore. 

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Just Call Me On My Way

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Ain't got nuttin

I haven't got anything of worth to write.  This morning I had this -

I never had a problem with farting until the cats moved in.  And I've been blaming the dogs.  Last nite, while not being able to sleep because I was busy searching for an axe so I could chop off my feet, it became abundantly clear who was stinking up the building.  The dogs were at the end of the bed, and the cats were at pillow level.  It was bad,  people.  Boy cats are evidently very rude. 

So you can understand why I've stayed away from blogging. 

*

Just Call Me Empty

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The Cats in the Household

So I'm going the laptop route.  Windows 98, slower than molasses in January, but oh well.  I wanted the laptop so I could write when the mood struck, and not be tethered to the wall where the electricity lives.

My eyes are doing the focusing camera thing.  In and out of focus for periods of 5 to 10 minutes.  Course .. not that a camera that took 5 to 10 minutes to focus would be a good thing.  I need to sit down when it's happening.  Have not heard of this particular symptom, but I'm sure it's MS related. 

Mdmhvonpa suggests that I use "Wifi", since I don't have the Internet.  Whatever that is.  There was a time back in my olden days when I could have used a wifi, since the husbands couldn't seem to be bothered with the dishes or the laundry. 

Look at that.  "Husbands".  Just how many did I have, hmmm?  ONLY TWO.

I must admit that it's nice mdmhvonpa seems to keep forgetting that I'm hitting the big Five Oh.  People who are hitting that number consider themselves advanced with the Internet sitting on top of a desk next to a keypad.  Wifi is a bit beyond us. 

So the dilemma about the pet door?  There's a fence around the yard, but little dogs can go under the fence.  The fact that Wheelie has a Chihuahua and still she put in a fence that doesn't contain little dogs is beyond me.  That fact and no Internet has sent me over the edge with stress.  Well, that and wrangling all these animals. 

I had hoped my kittens would not discover the Great Outdoors at this house.  They've been outside only 2 times at home, and that was with my constant presence to guard their precious little asses. 

So the pet door situation quickly went to hell.  I discovered Jeffrey giving the kittens lessons on how to go in and out the flap.  Literally.  Both kittens were sitting on their haunches, staring at the back door.  I thought they were just dreaming of the possibilities.  Then it dawned on me that I had been hearing somebody going in and out of the pet door for quite some time.  So I paid attention.  That damn Jeffrey was going in and out, in and out, and walking up to the kittens, touching noses, as if he were saying "Come on, guys, it's easy". 

I think he feels bonded with the kittens cause they're both male.  It helps him feel more secure ... what with Muttin being the Boss of All.

So once they mastered the pet door, KitKat took it from there.  He showed them that leaves blowing on the ground are not Kitten Eaters, and how much fun it is to jump out from under a big tarp when someone walks by.  Prior to this, my kittens had given KitKat a wide berth, respecting the fact that they were in his territory?  But now?  They're all chasing each other like kids in a daycare.  All I can say is KitKat better not lead them astray.  It's bad enough he's teaching them how to be cats. 

*

Just Call Me Irritated

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Martinsville

Today's race is at Martinsville Speedway in Virginia.

I'm in no mood to blog today, as I've discovered I've been duped.  There is no Internet at Wheely's house.  She hasn't learned her computer or Internet yet, so it looks like she quit paying the bill in August. 

And she KNOWS that I agreed to babysit her kitten, thinking I could do my blogging from there.  She KNOWS that I expected it to be there.  Grrrrr.

Gordon and Johnson are dominating the race.  161 laps to go, and Gordon is leading.  I think he's lead in laps too. 

I'm here at home, hurrying over so I could post the picture because I know how much YOU ALL appreciate it.

Fine, figures my mother would rat me out.  Sis is only 45.  She just ACTS like the older sister. 

Coming soon.  A blog about ring tones.  Owls.  Boys.  I guess at my age, I should use 'men' instead of 'boys'.  USE men?!  Hahahaha.  I so funny.  Me using them, rather than being used - that's a switch.  We're all grown-ups here, tho, right?  Of course right. 

I took Barf & Hiney to Wheely's house, and they're doing just fine.  It's not as frustrating as I thought it would be - that pet door. 

Her kitten, KitKat, can get thru, but my dogs are blocked.  Barf and Hiney have no idea what a pet door is, so at this point they haven't discovered it yet.  They spook easy, so the washer and dryer right next to the door is pretty handy for scaring them out of the laundry room.  KitKat growls at my kittens, and they just look at him like "hmmmm ... we'd play if you'd play".  They LOVE all the space - the favorite past-time so far is racing me down the hall every time I walk down it.  That and watching all the bird feeders out the windows.  Wait till I refill the squirrel feeders - maybe I catch it with the camera.

Muttin with frosting on her nose this morning.  Somebody spilled cake in the parking lot. 

Trying to lick it off before anybody sees her.  It's embarrassing to have frosting on your nose, thankyouverymuch.

The 52-inch Plasma TV?  Makes everyone look wide.  As in fat.  Fat faces especially. 

* 

Just Call Me Pissed Off for The Next Two Weeks
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My day with the vet .../s

I did my research.  I even did it twice.  I called the 2 local veterinarians to price getting male kittens neutered. Being on disability and suddenly having 2 kittens in the budget might mean one needs to find the best price, and maybe not necessarily the best vet.  My favorite vet's price was $60.00 per kitten.  The second vet was $45.00 per kitten. 

I chose the second vet, whom had also given all the dogs their shots recently - so basically, I've been using 2 vets.  (And wishing the one I dated would get his ass back home so he can start vetting for me, damn it!)  When I went in for that appointment, I remembered how Muttin had SCREAMED during one of her examinations - when I thought she had cheat-grass up her nose.  The vet had said they'd anesthetized her before roto-ruetering her nasal passages, but I don't think they did.  When I realized it was her, I stormed back to where she was, and was told "she was being a big baby about the needle".  I think they tried to do the roto-rueter thing without the anesthesia, not realizing I'd changed my mind and decided to wait in the waiting room, rather than running errands.  She screamed, I bolted back there, and THEN they gave her a shot to anesthetize her.  The fact that they didn't answer their phone when I needed a vet at 5:30am on a Sunday morning was the reason why I started going to the Favorite Vet - he answered their phone and he saw Jeffrey within a half hour of me calling that Sunday morning when he was having seizures.  They were the ones who gave the kittens their shots. 

Wheels haw a new kitten and she goes to the second vet, so when I took her Mr. KitKat to get his shots, I also took my dogs, because it was less expensive. 

That's the back story. 

When Wheels needed Mr. KitKat to be fixed too, I called the second vet, now called Unfavorite Vet, to see if I could bring him in at the same time as my two were going.  I also asked the price again, for Wheels benefit.  Forty-five dollars.  And I should bring them in between 7-8am, even tho they had told me 8-9am before. 

So this morning, I bundled up the 2 kittens and the 3 dogs, thinking I'd do Wheel's housework today, and the dogs could visit too, and Duke could flirt with his tennis ball in the canal. 

I gathered up her kitten, and off to the vet we go. 

They were closed.  So much for being there between 7-8am.  I was there at 7:30am.  Waiting in the van with 3 dogs and 3 cats was not amusing, but the kittens were all contained in carriers, so it wasn't too bad.  Poor Mr. KitKat - he's used to one little Chihuahua ... not 2 hyperactive jumping beans (Muttin/Jeff) and 1 kitten eater who bluffs (Duke). 

The office opens.  Then began a bizarre conversation with the receptionist ...

She:  Do you want them to have pain killers?
Me:  Uh ... ummm.  Well, yes.  Don't they need it? 
She:  Well, the surgery is less than 5 minutes, but sometimes the owners need it. 
Me:  The owners need it????
She:  I mean, it makes the owners feel better. 
Me:  (There are no words to put in here.  I went blank.  I didn't know what to say)
Me:  ...
Me:  Well, umm.  Doesn't it HURT them???  Don't they NEED the painkillers??? 
She:  Well, it IS surgery, but it's up to you. 
Me:  Does it cost extra?
She:  Oh yes, it's $4 to 10 dollars per kitten.
Me:  Oh!  Well I sure wish I'd been told this on the phone.
She:  How about the anti-biotic shots, will you be wanting them to have that too?
Me:  ...
She:  You need to put check-marks on the services you'd like from us to perform.
Me:  (Reading the form ...)

1.  _____  Pain killers                 $4-10
2.  _____  IV fluids                     $35.00
3.  _____  Identification chip      $45.00 plus $17.00 a month for service   
4.  _____  Blood-work to determine whether the liver and kidneys are mature enough for the surgery.               $30.00

Me:  No-one told me about this stuff on the phone, and I called twice even - once for my cats, and then again for Mr. KitKat. 
She:  Well, I'm sorry about that, but could you fill out the form now so we can get started? 
Me:  ...
She:  Because they're male cats, the surgery is really quite short, so we don't usually use any of that stuff unless there's a problem of some sort. 
Me:  Well ... I guess I do want the pain killers for them ...  can't really afford the rest... so ... go ahead.
Me:  No, wait.  I don't get this ... how the hell should I know if they need pain meds, or IV fluids?  I'm not the vet.  Isn't this surgery?  Why aren't the pain meds INCLUDED in the price???  I've NEVER been asked all this stuff before, and I've fixed a good number of animals in my day. 
She:  mumble mumbles something, which I ignore, cause I'm on a roll heavily laced with disbelief, confusion and anger.
Me:  So ... what if I get them home, and one of them should have a hard time recovering, or have some complication ...?  Are you telling me that if I'd chosen the IV fluids or whatever, that they might not be having the trouble recovering??? 
She:  (Looks at me impassively)  (Which I've always wondered what impassive looked like)  (Now I know)  (Impassive looks alot like "I don't give a damn, lady")  (And "Shut up, lady")
Me:  So basically, it'd be my fault if something went wrong?  It falls on me?????? 

So I check-marked for the pain killer.  And handed the kittens over.  And left in the van.

Me:  Hey you dogs! 
Muttin/Jeff/Duke:  (all look at me expectantly, and some were even relieved not to be in the vet's office)
Muttin:  Yes, what?
Me:  Weren't you guys all put to sleep when you got fixed? 
Jeffrey:  (Winces as if in pain)
Duke:  (Holds his back legs together)
Muttin:  Yea ... I don't remember a thing.  Piece of cake, cept for this damn belly scar that makes me look fat and I need a tummy-tuck now.  It's the least you can do since you took away my right to give birth.  Why do you ask?
Me:  Well ... according to how things are done now ... they don't use anesthesia anymore, and pain killers are optional. 
Jeffrey and Duke:  (Mouths agape in pure horror)  (Speechless)
Muttin:  Yea, so?  That'd be fun to watch.  Can I watch those little shit-head bags of fur get their manhoods chopped off, can I, can I?
Me:  (Lost in thought)
Me:  (Still lost in thought, even tho it's a bit difficult with Muttin giggling like 72 little girls at a slumber party at the kitten's fate awaiting them.  She was damn near HUMMING with pleasure)

I went back to Wheels house and called the Favorite vet and asked again how much it cost to get male kittens fixed. 

She:  $60.00
Me:  And what does that include? 
She:  Blood-work, anesthesia, pain meds to take home, etc. (I didn't listen after hearing pain meds)
Me:  Oh! 
Me:  I've got 3 kittens at another vet about to get cut - can I bring them to you instead? 
She:  So they haven't eaten since last nite?
Me:  Right.
She:  Of course, we'll fit them in.
Me:  On my way.

I explained the situation to Wheels, who's paying for all 3 cats, and she agreed that we don't want our kittens coming back traumatized and hating us.  Despite how macho they pretend to be, they're really nothing but pussies.  Mere babies.

I was caught between wanting the kittens to have the best care, but knowing I couldn't pay for it, and feeling bad that the price for Wheels had gone from $45.00 for the bare MINIMUM of care, up to $60.00 for THREE cats each.  But at least the $60 bucks was MUCH better care, and a bargain to boot.  To have all the other stuff included at the Unfavorite Vet, it would have been over $100.00 per cat!  Crazy!

I called the Unfavorite Vet and canceled the surgery.  When I picked them up, the vet himself asked what the problem was.  I recapped my original reasons for changing vets in the first place (not responding to an emergency phone call on a Sunday morning, and Muttin's screaming).  Then I recapped the itemized price list vs owner making medical decisions discussion with the receptionist.  At one point, when looking at her for verification that she had quoted me $45.00, she then added "and $5.00 for the anti-biotic shot ... and I interrupted with "What?!  You didn't say anything about anti-biotics!  And it's not on the form you wanted me to check mark all over hell!" 

At that point, I was just plain PISSED OFF.  I told him  that I wanted all the kittens back, and a copy of all our records, including Wheels, for Daisy the Chihuahua too, cause she'd be changing vets too, and that was really too bad, him losing a millionaire's business, cause who knew how much she had been planning on giving them in her will, what with her being an absolute nut ball over her pets and all.  (Easy for me to flaunt her millionaire-ness, huh?) 

I took the kittens to the Favorite Vet, grateful that once again, they were able to take my animals without notice, able to fit them in.  Because keeping 3 kittens from eating and drinking for 12 hours prior to surgery is not fun, and I didn't want to go thru it again. 

She asked me to sign the form that okay'd the anesthesia ... which freaked me out even more, as I realized the other vet hadn't mentioned using anesthesia ... did he clip cat balls without pain meds or anesthesia????  Cause they sure didn't mention an extra charge for it. 

I didn't even want to call them and find out. 

"

Just Call Me Astounded

.
 

They're fixed ... and high as kites cause evidently the meds are that good

The kittens got fixed today.  For my India reader, that means my little boy kittens can't grow into men cats who whore around, making more kittens, who then in turn make more kittens, and those kittens make more kittens, and pretty soon, I'd be one of those little old ladies who has 72 cats, and can't afford to feed them anything but tuna, and the tuna cans will pile up outside the front door, and pretty soon, there will too many cans for me to take out to the garbage, and the garbage men will turn me in to the city for not taking care of the garbage, and the neighbors will hate me and go to town meetings where they'll say I'm a hazard to their children's health.  I'm telling ya ... it's a slippery slope from where I sit with these two unfixed kittens, and I don't mind telling you I was frightened. 

So the little he-beasts got their balls cut off today. 

Can I just talk about how lovely it was from the hours of 8am to 4pm?  No kittens climbing the walls, or begging to be petted or fed.  No slinky, furry foot long snake-like beasties ran between my feet as I walked from room to room.  No teeth played at biting me while I prepared their meals in the kitchen.  No paws reached out to slap me as I went by.  No beady eyes stared at me as I twirled my hair in my fingers (bad habit).  No fuzzy bodies leap onto my head as I twirled my damn hair in my fingers (same bad habit). 

So I was also looking forward to the couple of days when they'd be all bandaged up and too sore to do anything but languish about the floor and beg for little pets but not too much, cause damn they were hurting, so take it easy, no need for the marathon pet sessions that they wouldn't release me from for 72 hours at a time, a couple of minutes would do just fine and oh by the way, could I just lift them up to the cozy pillow please so they could curl up for a nap?   Yes, they'd be just fine, no worries, but maybe I could open the curtains so they could bask in the sun some?  No sun to bask in?  Oh, then perhaps I'd move to a different apartment on the other side of the building where the sun does shine in the windows?  No?  Okay, no problem, they'd be just fine right here.   

This is what I had envisioned.  At least 2 days worth of peace and quiet, with me being a loving nurse every once in awhile. 

Well, it seems veterinary medicine has advanced quite a bit since the last time I had kittens fixed - maybe 15 years ago.  Or even 7 years ago, when the puppies got fixed.

Because for the last ... 5 1/2 hours they have been non-stop hell on wheels.  And they don't even have the decency to be afraid of the box that took them to the vet to get their personal parts chopped off in the first place.

There's no shaved parts, no bandages, and they haven't asked for a bag of frozen peas to help with the swelling.   

*

Just Call Me A Responsible Pet Owner

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It's just a Saturday

Poor Barf is thirsty, but every time he drinks water, he throws it up.  He'd the kitty who loves being petted and demands it on a regular basis, but now he doesn't want to be bothered at all.  He looks so miserable - all a cat mommy wants to do is cuddle him.  Sniff.

I shouldn't have said "every time he drinks water" because until this morning, I hadn't seen him drink water for at least 24 hours, but there'd be little dollops of clear green-tinged bile colored vomit.  Aren't you glad I have good descriptive writing abilities?  Yea, me too.  This morning he took a good long drink, and so far, so good. I think I'll hold off on the medicine to see if he keeps the water down.  He threw up both doses last nite. 

However, Hiney didn't eat this morning, but he's just as high-jinks as ever.  It is bothering him that Barf isn't feeling good, cause he pauses during his 72 mile an hour rounds around the apartment to lay next to Barf and licks him to death.  Barf started out with no energy, and not eating the next day.  Hiney will probably be the opposite, not eating, but with high energy, and he'll starve to death in mid-attack of the curtains.

I've always wondered about when the puppies were babies, why Jeffrey got Parvo, and Muttin didn't, considering how contagious Parvo is.  And now Barfn/Hiney are doing the same thing.  The vet told me yesterday that the babies who get the most colostrum in their mother's milk seem to have higher resistance to diseases.  Makes perfect sense, because Muttin is definitely the top dog in her pack, and Hiney is the top cat in his herd.  Cat pack?  Herd?  Hell, I don't know. 

SanFranMan has his kids for the next couple of weeks, and the plan is for me to meet them in Reno for a day or two.  He thinks all three days will be fine, but I don't want to push my luck.  Besides ... I have sick cats to take care of.  Which reminds me, I have to get all the dogs their shots updated before I go.  Chriminy, if it's not one thing or another with these blasted animals.  If Barf's still sick, I'm taking him with me.  It's not like he's pooping any ... true to form, all he's doing is barfing!  So I can hide him in the hotel room, a cat box won't be a huge issue.  Oops.  Since I'm taking all three dogs with me too, that would leave Hiney home all alone.  Lordy.   SFM loves my two little dogs - he seems to be holding out on Duke because he knows SonOne might be coming to get him someday, but he said he'd pay for boarding for the beasties.  I'm telling ya, folks, that's got to be true love.  He says it when he's half lit and I tell him if he says it in the light of day when he's sober, then I'll believe him, but hey, he just gave himself away.

Goodness, I've lucked out - there's a show on professional wrestling of the (Hulk Hogan variety) that is supposed to answer all my questions - Are they really fighting for real?  Do they hurt each other?  Is it fake?  Why in the HELL is it so popular?  That is the biggest question in my mind.

I must go now.  Hiney is eating my necklace and I've got to get ready to go to the race track tonite.  Counting laps, earning 50 more bucks, woo hoo!

UPDATE:  SFM just called to firm up plans for Reno, and his son wanted to make sure I'm bringing "the big dog".  And I talked to his daughter, the fast-talking, breathless little chicky, and told her I was BRINGING THEM ALL.  She doesn't know that might include kittens.  His son is on the verge of that "too cool for words" stage, still a little boy, excited about a dog, but almost in the teen years where it's just gross that his dad likes a girl.  So I'm tickled if acknowledged me even if it was via the Duke.  The dogs will make it a much easier icebreaker under the circumstances.  I'm in like Flynn!  So far anyways.  Wait till they meet me and discover I'm an incoherent and forgetful old lady whom they've already colored me as a daddy stealer.  Fun times!                            

Kittens in a 4 star hotel ... hmmm.  I might need to rethink it. 

*

Just Call Me Cat in the Lap

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If you came here cause of the P word, it isn't what you were hoping for

I have enjoyed my single life for the most part.  I'm not one who needs to be married, or even in a relationship to be happy.  I've reaped the rewards, so to speak, of getting to know many men, and have cared for a handful a good men.  That's not to say that I was a total slut, altho my sister would disagree, but that's because she's a total prude who walks around as if she's smelling a skunk 98% of the time.  And she doesn't know what she's missing, if you ask me, but I digress. 

I've always been the type to do my own handyman repairs.  I installed motion sensor lights on all three doorways once.  I've replaced a toilet.  Replaced the belt on the dryer.  (or was it the washer?)  I've changed the oil in my car, and changed flat tires before.  I've never lamented the lack of a man to take out the garbage or take care of the yard - I just did it myself, many times even if there was a man around.  I just did what needed to be done, and felt proud of myself for doing it.  I am the Queen of Alone - after all, I was alone when I had Jacob during his life and his death - I'm no weak link, or clingy vine is my point. 

But tonite, I'd be very very grateful to have a partner in my life right now.  Because I need help.  And I need it twice a day for the next week or so.  It's safe to say that I DREAD being alone right now.  And the next week looks like hell on earth. 

Because I am alone, I decided to look up suggestions on the Internet.  More than once it has provided me with whatever I seek, be it answers, a social outlet, and once even a man.  Or two.   I almost titled the search "Pussy Wrangling", but quickly realized that would not be welcome information popping up on my screen.

As always, the Internet thinks it knows everything, but real life is often another story. It said:

"Hold your cat between your knees while you're kneeling, making certain that her front legs are tucked between your knees to prevent scratching. With the palm of your hand on top of your cat's head, place your thumb and index finger on either side of her mouth, then tilt her head back until her mouth falls open.  You can also, if needed, use your other hand to gently push down on her lower front teeth. With her mouth open, drop the pill as far back on her tongue as possible, keeping her head back until she swallows."

Let me get this straight. I'm to hold my cat BETWEEN my knees, while I'm KNEELING?  ??  ???  While making certain that his front paws are tucked between my knees to prevent scratching?

I can't even get my mind around it.  Balancing while holding a cat between my knees, while their the paws between my knees ... (how many knees do I have?) AND popping the oral medicine via eye dropper ALL AT THE SAME TIME? 

Like the cat is going to sit still, with claws sheathed for all this - uh huh. 

I no dummy.

Barf is sick, and it's possibly Parvo.  He's not as sick as he could be since he's had his first shots, but I forgot to take them in for their booster shots. So they're both getting a course of antibiotics twice a day for about a week. 

I haven't felt this alone in many years ...

*
Just Call Me Praying for Help
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Cats Rule, Dogs Drool

I got all excited when I saw a new commenter and went to visit her site.  I had assumed she was the host of yesterday's Curious as a Cat meme site, as that's when I usually get new readers - when I link to other blogs, so I was a little freaked that she had said she was dx'd in 2003.  One of my voices said "Wow, what a small world!"  But then the other voice said "Duh, it's the Internet".  So I whipped off an email stating the same to her.  Only to realize after visiting her site that she wasn't the host of yesterday's meme, but a reader probably scanning the world for MS'er's and I popped up. Maybe I was Googled! 

So check out her site, Jane's Page.  She's got a cool world clock thingy that I was mesmerized by for a half hour.  She's a support group facilitator for MS'ers, which I have great admiration for - as I used to be a support group facilitator for survivors of sexual abuse.  I've often thought of doing the same thing for MS, but simply cannot manufacture the caring required to do so.  Which is really odd because doing groups was the one thing that I really loved doing, and did well, got kudos for on a community-wide basis, receiving awards, etc., for it.  It wasn't even "work" to me, because I loved it so much.  Then I got sick and it was all over for me caring about others - I just didn't have the energy.  Even now, when I am so much better, the mere thought of doing it again sucks the energy out of me.  So much kudos for anyone who's able too.  Hell, if I were in her area of the world, I'd certainly go to her group.  I'm willing to admit that I haven't been the most graceful and gracious about having the damn disease ...   

Here I am, typing intensely, suffering thru the freaking pain, when I realize Duke is whining and has been from some time. I turn to him, impatience crowding my soul, irritated with the incessant demands from my little family ...

Awwwww ... does the big, bad kitty have widdle Dukie's tennis ball?  Poor widdle guy ...

Lord.

Id you'll take a closer look at Barf's face ...

I do believe he's basking in the power of it all ...

I told Duke "Duke, get your ball", which usually sends him into a frenzy of excitement and thought the momentum of the excitement would give him the bravery to snatch it away from the cat.  But no.  He just stood there for the longest time, not looking at either the cat or the ball or me, but at the edges of me, the kitten, and the couch in front of him, praying evidently for relief from the torture that is his life with these kittens.

Finally, with much encouragement from me, he reached out his paw and got his ball (balls?) back .... hahahaha I so funny. 

*

Just Call Me Comedian Is My Middle Name

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We're redecorating around here

And as we all know, black and red work well together.
.

And the cheetah print quite compliments the brown tones in Barf. 
.

When saving the pictures I use, I have to rename them, and I usually use what comes first to mind.  So the red and black was called "Black And Red Hiney".

And then "Brown On Brown Barf".

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Just Call Me Oh So Funny
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Race Day

Race today at the Lowe's Motor Speedway in Charlotte, North Carolina.  I can't concentrate on it cause I finally feel good and want to take advantage of it by cleaning the house, do some re-arranging of some furniture, and tame the kittens. 

Duke is moping around for some reason.  I think he's addicted to water, and pouts when he doesn't get it each day.  In teaching him how to be a proper Black Lab, I've created a monster. 

Wicker furniture is all fine and good and all, but daaayyum - those kittens are climbing fools.  I've decided to keep them both because they're both cause they're both soo cute and funny and adorable and they wiggled into my heart.  The main it is how they are with the dogs.  It's just fascinating to watch all the personalities. 

/

/

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Formal introduction

 

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Meet Barf above, and below, is Hiney ...

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The Sick and The Cute

Count 'em and weep. 

Tony and Stewart, huh.  Why not Jeff and Gordon, in that case?  Might as well name them Whine and Bag, in the case of Tony Stewart.  Clever Ben.

I loved all the suggestions for names, in particular Jasper and Jenkins ... however, after some experience with Spit and Spat, I had difficulty remembering who was who, so it became clear that I would have to have descriptive names for them, that I would be able to remember.  Like Blacky and Brownie.  Something obvious like that. 

The cuteness is almost ridiculous. 

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Doors = GREAT cat toy!

Believe me, it is not necessary for me to talk about why I won't forget which one is Barf, and which one is Hiney.  Suffice to say ... the vet giving them a "clean bill of health" was a bit hasty.  Also?  Kittens this little don't seem to know that cats don't like water, as Hiney needed his "diaper" changed more than once.

They're much better now. 

*

Just Call Me Vet Apprentice

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Kitty Update

The two kitties that were dumped on me cause my car evidently is stupid and has "Sucker" stamped over it's windshield?  I believe a $90.00 vet bill for their shots means their MINE.  Dammit. 

I'm now the proud owner of two male kittens.  Whose names are not Spit and Spat, because somehow those names are two cutsy cutsy for male cats.  Cute now, grown up later, is what I'm saying.  The vet said he liked the "tabby" as he pulled the brown one towards him, so now "Tabby" keeps running thru my head for him, but again, not quite right for a male cat. 

The black one had become a little lethargic the nite before the vet visit, and had diarrhea, and then it vomited in the morning, before he even ate, so I was convinced it had distemper or parvo or leukemia or one of the other ka-zillion diseases I researched on the Internet.  Damn Internet had me scared to death, thankyouverymuch, but he's got a clean bill of health - may have been stress - just what I need - another animal with a sensitive tummy or bowel system (Jeffrey). 

So anyways, knowing that cats rarely survive the distemper or parvo, I had convinced myself he wasn't going to make it, and must admit, the thought, while sad, what was sadder (smarter?) was the fact that should it die, that would free me up to give my mother the ONE kitten she said she would take IF it had it's shots, and was litter trained, etc.  I thought whew, boy would I have been glad to have my population problem solved. 

But alas, the kitten is fine, they both now have their shots, and the one who was acting sick became quite healthy the minute I got them home again.  Naturally. 

Where's VetMan when I need him?  Why, yes, VetMan Dear, I HAVE missed you and want you to come back from ... Brazil? now is it?  Absence DOES make the heart grow fonder, isn't that an interesting discovery?  If I declared my love in an open love letter, do you suppose that would bring him home to me, hmmm?

Dear VetMan,

Hi, how are you?  Where are you now?  I haven't heard from you since you left Chili, and were headed towards Brazil, stopping where you may. 

Well, I'm here to tell you that I miss you and wish you would come home.  We need to explore a relationship together.  Perhaps I was a bit hasty last time.  Please consider giving me a second chance. 

Thank you very much and oh so sincerely,

     Laurie

PS.  By the way did I mention I have 2 new kittens?  Oh, and the dogs are just fine, thanks, altho, Duke is due for his shots. 

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Damn my hands hurt. 

According to the dogs, it's getting a bit crowded in here.  It doesn't help that I sold one of my dressers from the bedroom, so I pulled it out into the livingroom for it to be picked up, and so I could fit in the shelves that are replacing the dresser.  Last Saturday.  And it's still here. 

So I'm up for some name suggestions, people. 

*

Just Call Me Oh So Sincere

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The Kitten Conversation

Duke:  What are they?  Furry tennis balls?

Me:  No, Duke, they're kittens.  Don't EVEN think about fetching kittens. 

Muttin:  No, Duke, they're breakfast.  One bite apiece, and you're full for the rest of the day.  Just think of it.

Me and Jeffrey:  Muttin! 

Duke: Not tennis balls?  What are they good for then?

Muttin:  Exactly.

Jeffrey:  Can we play with them? 

Me:  Of course you can, Sweetie Boy.  They will be giving you a run for your money once they get used to things.  Or in your case - a run for your chicken.

Jeffrey:  My chicken?!  No!  Do they eat chicken too?  What are you saying???

Me:  Calm down, sweetie - it's just a phrase.  It means they're going to be alot of fun to play with ... yea, that's it.

Muttin:  Jeffrey, you and I need to have a talk. 

Jeffrey:  About chicken? 

Muttin:  No, Dimbo.  Don't you see a pattern here?  First, there's Duke ...

Jeffrey:  ... Yessss ... ?

Muttin:  Have you noticed how much attention she pays him, hmmm?

Jeffrey:  Well, if we wanted to fetch tennis balls, I'm sure she'd throw them for us too.  But I thought we were too cool to do that?

Muttin:  We are.  The point is ... she doesn't pay as much attention to us anymore.  Other people have noticed.  Remember when the old man down the hall asked her if her two little dogs ever got jealous because of the big dog? 

Jeffrey:  Well, yea.  But I don't get jealous ... do I? 

Muttin:  (rolls her eyes)

Me:  Muttin, it sounds like you're the jealous one.  What can I do to make you feel better?

Muttin:  Get rid of the kittens.  Feed us twice a day.  Vote for Hillary. 

Me:  The kittens are here to stay.  Maybe.  SonOne might take them to the Humane Society for me when he comes in July tho, if they don't work out. 

Muttin:  At LAST, someone's got some sense around here.  I take back every mean thing I ever said about that boy. 

Jeffrey:  What's he got against kittens?  He hasn't even met them yet.

Me:  He's terrified I'm going to become a little old crazy cat lady whose house is covered in tuna fish cans, and he's gonna be the one who has to clean them up when I die.  Evidently it's been a frequent nightmare of his since childhood. 

Muttin:  Well, the fact that you had 7 cats during his teen years may have something to do with that.  Duh.

Duke:  They are cute. 

Me:  There's that.  There's no such thing as an ugly kitten.  That's how you get sucked into their world, and it's said that no-one owns a cat, they won't allow it.  They own us, is what they say. 

Muttin:  Speak for yourself, Tonto.   

Jeffrey:  They're adorable.  I can't wait to play with them.

Duke:  Me too.  When can we play with them huh huh huh?

Me:  As soon as Muttin stops barking her fool head off at them, so she doesn't scare them into places I can't get them from. 

Me:  And two, as soon as you, Duke, quits chuffing all over them.  And that poking them with your nose has got to stop.  Once they figure out they have claws, you're gonna be sorry.

Duke:  Well, they're just so fun and furry ...

Me:  And three, as soon as you stop talking about them as if you're wondering if they'd be better bar-b-qued or fried. 

*

Keep? Are YOU insane?

Am I keeping them?  That would be the question of the year, wouldn't it? 

Some jerk left them in my car, because evidently my car also has "Sucker" imprinted on it's front windshield.  The black one is very affectionate, purring the minute I touch it, and it's got a tiny little white spot on it's chest.  And the bluest blue eyes.  The other one is more of a spitfire, hence it's name - Spit, is greys and browns.  Spit is a recycled name, because

the grey cat in this picture was named Spit.  This picture is a whole post in itself, for another day. 

Suffice to say ... I tend to be an animal person.  But the LAST thing I need is to be an animal person with 5 pets who want to move to San Francisco.  Cause you just know those kittens have picked up the dream as well. 

It did occur to me that when Muttin/Jeff kick the bucket, I would still have the cats ...

I am fast becoming out of control. 

*

Just Continue to Call Me Sucker or is it "Suuck a!"

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Stop the Insanity. Please.

.

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.

.

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What the hell?  I like wicker, but this is a bit much, yes?  The living room is out of control, first with the sunflowers that threw up all over the floor, and now the wicker is trying to play King of of the Mountain.  And what about those dogs - what are they doing?  Are there loose sea horses running around in there?  Flower from Meercat Manor?  Who turned the coffee table upside down?  All these questions. 

Maybe I got bored.  Needed more floor space? 

.

.

.

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Maybe a closer look would help?  Have I found the world's largest Hobo spider?  I had to turn the coffee table upside down, put it on top of a stool, and put the glass top on top (of the bottom of the coffee table), then placed the laundry basket, etc., on top that the glass.  For weight.  So the dogs wouldn't knock it down. 

Why in the world would the dogs want to knock it down? 

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.

 

Lord help me. 

*

Just Call Me Sucker

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