An Update

A very generous friend loaned us 5 space heaters for our 1100 square foot house. Friends are totally made of win.

Our hot water lines froze in the night. Good times!

Here’s how the kitties decided to keep warm.

Ssh! Don’t tell anyone that I told you this, but they even snuggled with the puppy.

I decided to clean the bathroom to stave off the cabin fever and move enough to keep warm. While I did that, Michael ventured out into the snowy wastelands to bring back fire. Okay, fire in the form of oscillating heaters, but they make heat and that’s the point here.

We decided to settle in for a movie (The Incredibles). We’d set up one of the heaters in the utility room where the hot water lines are located and turned the hot water all the way open in the kitchen sink and bathtub. About halfway through the movie, water started running in the kitchen. As I headed to the bathroom to check the tub, it began to run as well.

Hooray! Hot showers tonight!

So now, here we are with 5 space heaters running and the thermostat looks like this.

In case you can’t read the blurry shot, it says 71. Toasty. I generally refuse to run the central heat above 68.

Makes you appreciate the little things…

Although, I’d still like to bludgeon Murphy with that law of his.

This Friday is Fluffy!

As most of you know, I’m an animal lover.  Of both the tasty and cuddly varieties.  And so I feel it is my duty to show you what some Marines in Afghanistan have been doing to some kittens.  I must warn you, it’s not for the faint of heart.

Pweese Dont Eats Me!
Pweese Don't Eats Me!

That’s right.  What you see here is a big bad Marine about to make out with a kitten.  Do you know what that could lead to?


Sleeping With The Natives
Sleeping With The Natives

You can see what a toll this is taking on the local kitten population.  Just look at this poor kitteh.  So worn out he fell asleep under a hat.

So very tired
So very tired

I would tip the hat to Jezebel, but it might disturb the feline.

And here is the contact information for an SPCA initiative that helps bring these animals to safety! You can donate online to Operation Baghdad Pups.

New Camera

Ok, so I’ve actually had the new camera for a week now, but I’m just getting around to writing a post.  Here she is.  A new Nikon Coolpix P80.

She had to take her own self-portrait ala MySpace/Facebook etal.

Pretty nifty camera actually. I’m still learning how to use all the features. Picked this one up at our local pawn shop for a pretty decent deal. The best way I have found to describe it is like the Nikon people decided to design their DSLR with a fixed lens. It is decidedly not a point and shoot. But I can take great close-ups of birds.

With that attitude, I’m not sure he wanted me to take his picture. Either that or he should be a model for Ralph Lauren. I think he’s challenging me there. He knows bird-fu.

I’ve got some fun shooting pics and pics of Michael’s new gun and lots of random pictures. Hopefully I will conquer the learning curve and be taking some worth while shots soon. For now, here is a slideshow of some random shots.

And another of our critters just because.

Oh The Sickness!

Sorry for the lack of posting.  There’s been SICKNESS in my house. First the cat, then the kid.

Noticed Ferrule having a issue with peeing Monday evening.  And then he went a little in a box in the entry hall.  When he finally got to his preferred urination point (the bathroom sink), he peed blood. YIKES!

Upon discovering the issue, I sought him out of his usual hiding place.  I pulled him into my lap and gently rubbed his belly to make sure his bladder was indeed empty.  It wasn’t.  It became empty under the pressure all over my lap.  At least he got some relief.  And I learned the when the garment is washed promptly, bloody cat pee does not stain or leave a stink.  A lesson that would prove valuable.

The vet was called and an appointment was made for Tuesday after work.  Work was hellishly busy.  I didn’t even stop for lunch, choosing instead to eat my meatballs while maintaining obligations.  The work wasn’t done when the day was over, but I had a cat to transport to the vet.  And as long time readers may already know, vet visits with Ferruleare always entertaining.  That is if you’re a masochist.

So I picked up the family and we rushed home.  I swooped in on the Ferrule, roped him into a harness, and them put him in a blanket-burrito style.  He stared at me with his wide blue eyes wondering why the aggressive snuggle time, but hey, it’s mom, I’ll take it.  Yes, he really loves me.  He snuggled into his warm burrito feeling safe and secure right up until I carried him past the threshold into the big scary outdoors.  YOWEEEELLLLL!  Have I mentioned that he’s part Siamese?  Now all the new neighbors know as well.  I mean the ones that moved in down the block.

And as if the BIG SCARY OUTDOORS wasn’t torture enough, I carried him straight to the TACTICAL FOUR WHEELED DEATH MACHINE (it’s black, must be tactical).  We then proceeded to drive the one half mile between our house and the vet’s office.  I’m sure the torture enhanced transportation techniques violated some Geneva Convention.  Or at least, that’s the story Ferrule was telling at about 400 decibels.  *Note to self, use ear protection when transporting the high strung Siamese.

His 2 full minutes of torture ended in the parking lot of the vet.  As did his bladder control.  At least I know cat pee laundry secrets.  (Told you the lesson would come in handy).  We slipped into the vet’s office stealthily.  The vet actually laughed when I told her we were trying to be subtle.  That is, after I repeated myself because she didn’t hear me over the YOWEEELLLLING the first time.

The vet thinks he is probably suffering from lower urinary tract disease and needs to eat food that will acidify his urine.  That way he can just dissolve the crystals that are forming in his urethra.  Apparently, they are not power crystals and will not increase his life force.  Hooray!  $26 for 4 pounds of food.  Oh, and by the way, since he peed all over himself could ya maybe, if it isn’t too much trouble, catch him in the act and collect a urine sample?

So we packed him back into the TACTICAL FOUR WHEELED DEATH MACHINE for the trip home.  More YOWEEELLING.  I’m waiting for a return visit from the UN inspector.  And the AFLU (American Feline Liberties Union) is certain I’ve violated something in this whole adventure.  If not with the torture enhanced transportation techniques, then certainly with the bath that followed  What, you expected I would let a urine soaked cat have run of the house?

So after a couple of adult beverages, the Evylrobot and I settled down for bed.  10 minutes later, the alarm went off and we began the morning stumble through work preparations.  And then the Weebot awoke.  Hack!  Cough!  Looked enough like death that I was checking for bite marks.  You never know when  zombie might slip in and we had neglected the bedtime closet check.  Sent the kiddo back to bed and took hubby to work for his 10th consecutive work day at the new job.  And I stayed home with the petri dish..  And the empty EMPTY coffee container.

No caffeine for Jennifer.  None.  And yet, I survived.  But I would be telling you horrible LIES of a liberal scale if I said I didn’t miss it.  In all honestly, I was writing sonnets in my head to the poor neglected coffee cup sitting forlorn on my desk at work.  But we survived.  And even though the next morning came before even the merciless god of morning awoke (Hubby had to begin his 11th consecutive day at 6am), I found myself looking forward to the workday and much awaited visit with my mug.

I returned home from dropping hubby off, Weebot had not yet awakened, and had a nice warm shower.  I dressed in a smart, professional outfit complete with Italian leather heels.  But alas, the caffeine gods would not smile on me this morning.  The Weebot awoke still suffering from the plague.  So I sent him back to bed and removed my Italian heels donning instead some white athletic socks to compliment my mom attire.

I attempted to snooze on the couch with a valiant effort by a pair of Siamese sleep aids.  But the thunderous pulsing in my head would not allow it no matter how rhythmic Emerson made bread and purred.  Once the kiddo revived, we decided to go and get drive thru breakfast.  You people at McDonald’s at 8:30.  Seriously? Pull all the way up.  You do not need to leave space between your front bumper and the rear bumper of the vehicle in front of you.  If you do, you leave the ass of my car (driven by a very caffeine deficient driver) hanging out in the street.  And the honking?  Not helping.  You’ll be pleased to learn that I did not shoot anyone.

Oh you sweet, sweet caffeinated elixir.  I’ve been waiting for you oh so impatiently.  At this point, no, I don’t care about the delivery system of the caffeine.  Intravenous might have been my first choice.  And the Egg McMuffin.  Oh the delicious delivery of a substance that must be crack.

There was eating.  And movies.  And a very not housewife Jennifer clinging to any Facebook message out of need for ADULT COMMUNICATION.  If you talk to me about Bakugon or Mario, I swear I will punch you in the nose.  Curse you bouncy mushrooms!!!

He seems to be feeling much better.  And this scratch in my throat?  It’s nothing.  Really.  It would be INCONCEIVABLE (we watched Princess Bride today) for me to have come down with anything my precious little petri dish was carrying while sharing only the 400 square feet with him for the last 48 hours.  INCONCEIVABLE!!!

Friday Fluff: Cat Fashion

Yeah, I’ve been negligent in my fluff posts and we’ve all been needing them.  Sorry!

Is your feline fashion forward?  Have you ever wished that kitty could coordinate with your newest frock?  Well wish no more!

Yes, United Bamboo is making ready to wear for Mittens.  Meeee-Ow!  Kitty Couture.

She’s to sexy for her collar.  Too sexy for her collar.  So sexy she hollars!

She’s too sexy for Milan.  Too sexy for Milan.  New York.  Not Japan.

She’s a Tabby, you know what I mean.

As she does her little turn on the cat walk.

Yeah on the cat walk.  On the cat walk yeah.

As she does her little turn on the cat walk…

Did you know that Tokyo has the world’s busiest cat modeling agency?  Me neither.  Didn’t realize there was a call for that sort of thing.

Could explain why Emerson is turning Japanese, he thinks he’s turning Japanese, he really thinks so.  I suppose I should tell him that at 12.5 pounds, his modeling career does not look promising.  And even though chicks dig scars, magazines don’t.

Wait!  That could explain everything!  He is Emo.  He’s depressed about his runway career.  I should have known.

A Tail to Tell

Sigh.  Last night was supposed to be a relaxed night.  Grilled steaks and a movie after our parent teacher conference.  Go here for hubby’s perspective.

That is, until there was blood.  Blood on the floor under the chair.  Blood in the bathroom.  Blood on the cat tree.  Yikes!

And a bleeding kitty.  Turns out, his tail had a major laceration. Over zealous rough play with the other kitty I assume.  Either that, or suddenly my cat has turned Emo and likes to cut himself.

Ouch!  At the instruction of the emergency vet, we cleaned it with peroxide and kept an eye on him.  It was still bleeding pretty consistantly and he was clearly in pain.  And so I wrapped him in a towel and headed out to the evil four wheeled instrument of certain death.

As a side benefit, when transporting a Siamese in an evil four wheeled instrument of death, you can roll down the windows and pull over traffic.  Hearing protection is advised.  We did not heed this advice.

The emergency vet got us into an exam room right away.  Emerson was not so thrilled.

But they gave him the good drugs.  Which is a very good idea before shaving and stitching part of a cat.

We chatted with the check in nurse and listened to horror stories of $25oo procedures while we waited.  Finally, the friendly vet came out to let us know that Emerson was sporting a daring new haircut and a soon-to-be scar for the chicks to dig.

And then we got the bill.  Damn that’s an expensive haircut.

$285 dollars lighter and 12 stitches heavier, we headed home with a crashed out kitty.  No meezer sirens for this end of the trip.  He was still lethargic when we got home at a quarter til midnight.

We set him up with a bed in the bathroom so he could sleep it off unmolested by the other kitty.  (Henceforth known as the slasher.)

He was feeling much better this morning.  The tail is clearly still tender, but the bleeding has stopped.  He’s acting more like himself.

He starts antibiotics tonight.  Oh goodie!  I get to pill a cat.

Oh Hai!

I guess you may have noticed the light posting.  Yeah, I’m on vacation.  I’m hijacking my host‘s computer currently.  I’ll update as I can.

Yesterday was spent hunting the the elusive purple shoes.  I was successful in finding a great pair, but alas, they did not have them in my size.  And so the hunt continues.  But the pair that got away were beautiful.

Multi-hued, Brazilian made goodness.  And they were on sale.  Sigh.

At least I got a great pair of earrings.

also on sale.  And kinda purple.

Later our lovely host and hostess treated us to a smoked meat-stravaganza.  Mmm.  Venison and pork chops and chicken and sausage.  All under the watchful gaze of the resident guard cat.

Convenience Pets

This is just something that pisses me off.

My sister-in-law shared this story with me, and so I will share it with you.  Besides, I had to get in the middle of it.

A local couple visited the vet with their nine month old Himalayan.  Not to get his shots.  Not for a regular check up.

No they brought in this beauty, whom they named ‘Patches,’

to have him put to sleep. Was he sick?  No.  Dangerous?  No.

His death penalty worthy crime?  He was inconvenient.  They were moving and it was going to be too much trouble to take him with them.

Yep.  They were selfish assholes.  And if the pet abandoner is reading this, own the label.  You earned it.  You are more than an abandoner, you were planning to be executioner. You were planning to end the life of an innocent creature because you were too selfish to make a little effort on his behalf.

He’s a purebred Himalayan.  There are plenty of willing and loving homes out there.  There are rescue organizations devoted to the breed.  There are shelters that will take an animal like this with no questions asked.

Thankfully, the compassionate vet thwarted the young couple’s plans.  Rather than put him to sleep, he took him in, neutered him, and sought out a loving home.  He got one.  I love it when stories have a happy ending.

I heard this story on Sunday.  When did he have a new home? Monday.

Three weeks ago, my parents had to have their 18 year old Himalayan put to sleep.  His kidneys were failing and it was a heart wrenching decision, but it was the right one.  My dad wasn’t sure that he was ready for another cat, but when I heard the sad story of this kitten, I had to call him. He didn’t even hesitate.

I made the logistical calls, and the kitty joined their household on Monday evening.  He doesn’t have a new name yet.  He deserves a name bestowed on him by loving caregivers rather than the one given by the selfish assholes.  He seems to be choosing my mother as his person.  That will make him the first cat they have ever had that chose her.

Choosing to adopt a pet is a bigger decision than purchasing a handbag.  Companion animals are living, breathing, sentient creatures.  Taking on a pet means that you agree to either care for them for the rest of their lives or find someone that can.  That is your responsibility as a pet owner.

I know that extenuating circumstances happen.  Sometimes a situation just doesn’t work out.  I’ve had it happen.  But you still have a responsibility to find something that will work out.  You do not take a cat that knows nothing other than the life of a pampered house cat to be destroyed for your convenience.