Tuesday, Dec. 21st

I’m looking for a diet blog/jounal you had listed in your previous links list. I can’t remember her name or name of the journal. however, I know she lived near ocean city maryland, her daughter was diagnosed with crohns disease, and she has a new baby. The last entry i read she wrote her husband was leaving her…I can’t stop thinking about her and want to know if they got back togther. I hope all is well. I hope you can help me out. I’m pretty sure you’re thinking of Amy. Unfortunately, Amy hasn’t updated since August. Anyone know how she’s doing? Concerned readers want to know… Also from my comments: Show us your christmas tree? Or are you not doing one this year. I can’t remember I posted a picture of the tree (using the nightvision function on my camera) in this entry, toward the bottom. Sounds like you are getting back into your exercise and healthy eating. You mentioned issues that you did not deal with when you first lost weight. What are they? (Feel free to mock me in your diary for being horribly nosy.) Awwww, it’s NO FUN mocking someone when you have their permission. Hmph. No, seriously, it’s a good question and I’ll probably address it in the future (probably after the holidays are over) over in my weight loss journal. Never posted a comment before but just want to start with the fact that I love everything about you and you family. Question – is there something wrong with Meester Boogers’ eye? One of my cats paws his eye to the point that it tends to get swollen shut. The vet said he has OCD – um, yeah, I don’t think so but it could be true. So I guess, my comment is two fold – first I hope all is well with you and your family and cats (as in, I hope nothing is wrong with Booger’s eye) and second, have you ever had one of your vet’s diagnose any of your cats with a personality disorder? Nah, there’s nothing wrong with his eyes. If his eyes look funny in some pictures, that’s probably because the flash gave him redeye or completely erased his pupil, and Fred photoshopped it to look a little more normal. The vet thinks Spot might have OCD, which is why he grooms constantly and all the fur on his back legs and stomach is mostly gone (poor funny-looking cat). We had him on medication for a while but it turned him into a zombie, so we took him off it. We’ve recently started again with a lower dose, so maybe that’ll work. We’ll see! Did you get your Tivo set up? I’m looking into it, but I’m not sure I can do the connections. I have a VCR, DVD player, and cable box hooked up to an older TV now, and I’m not sure if there’s enough room and connections for yet another component. It says a broadband and a ‘one time’ phone connection. Was this difficult? Any pointers you can give? Sorry if this was already posted and I missed it. Y’all are forbidden to give me a hard time about this, understand? We got the TiVo and were setting it up, when we discovered (because we’re stupid and didn’t realize this when we ordered the freakin’ thing) that you can only tape one show at a time with TiVo. What the hell is the point of that? During sweeps months, we’re generally taping two shows at a time and watching something else we’ve taped previously. Taping one show at a time is just no help to us, you know? And yes, I know that we could have bought two TiVos and hooked each one up to a different TV (god KNOWS we have plenty of TVs in this house!), but each TiVo costs $299 for lifetime service or $12.95 a month, and that’s more money than we want to pay, you know? We sent the TiVo back, called the cable company, and they brought out a new DVR box a few days later. So far we’ve had no problems, but when we are having problems and I’m bitching about it, y’all have my full permission to say “You wouldn’t be having these problems if you had a TiVo, dumbass!” So obviously I have no suggestions for you as far as hooking up the TiVo, but I understand that they have a pretty good online support page, you might give it a try. Good luck! I LOVED the stories of how and why you got your kitties. Kitties are the best. Next time, can you also include why/how you choose Mr. Fancypants and Tubby even though they are gone now? And what happened to Spud’s cat PFE? Oh, you’re going to make me really think, huh? Let’s see… Tubby: In the summer of 1997, the spud was in Maine. Her cat PFE had died and she didn’t know, and we thought that having a new cat might distract her from her grief when she got home. Fred wanted a Bengal kitten and there was a guy in Huntsville who bred them. We went to his house and checked out the kittens he had available, but none of the kittens was particularly friendly, and would have cost something like $600, and I just couldn’t see paying that much for a cat when so many good cats needed a home. We went to South Huntsville, where at that time, the no-kill shelter I volunteer for now had a store where they adopted out cats and sold cat toys, food, and litter. We went into the cat room and played with several different cats, then Fred spotted a little black and white kitten sitting off to the side by himself. He petted the kitten and scratched him at the base of his tail, and the kitten purred loudly and raised his ass up in the air. Fred decided he really liked the kitten and I was so tired of looking at cats at that point that I just wanted to get the cat and get out of there. The lady running the store told us that Jack (the kitten’s name) had been part of a feral colony and they didn’t think he was going to be adoptable, that he’d always be feral, but he’d actually turned out pretty friendly. We brought him home and (of course) Spot and Spanky freaked out and the kitten chased them around, trying to cuddle. We went through a bunch of “s” names and finally settled on Snoopy, because he kind of looked like a Snoopy. We found out pretty quickly that he wasn’t much for being held and cuddled, though he’d rub up against Fred and purr loudly. That night after we’d turned the lights off, Fred and I were laying bed talking, and Snoopy jumped up on the bed, got under the covers, and snuggled up against Fred’s back. “Oh, he’s cuddling with me!” Fred said. “He – OUCH!” It seems that the kitten had gotten so overwhelmed with love that he’d felt the need to bite Fred. On his back. Hee! He turned out to be quite a character, with his bitchy talking-back to us and his demanding food (the idea apparently being that if we were eating, he should be, too. When we’d had him about a year it became pretty clear that he wasn’t going to be a skinny cat, and over time we gradually started calling him Tubby. I think Tubby was pretty much the most popular cat amongst you readers; I once took a poll, and if I recall correctly, he was far and away the favorite. He had a lot of character, and I think it showed in the pictures and stories we shared with you. He was the baddest of the bad-asses. Fancypants was all talk, but the time a stray cat came through the cat door and into the house, it was Tubby who kicked the other cat’s ass across the room, back out the cat door, and across the yard. Y’all really know the rest of the story. About a year ago he started peeing outside the litter box – on the floor in our bedroom, in the closet, on the bed. We found out that he had diabetes, and were treating it. Things got better for a while, but he was really never the same after that. In January of this year he started just not really looking right around the eyes. I can’t explain what I mean, exactly, just that I’d look at him, and he just seemed like he was unhappy and in pain. The vet couldn’t find anything wrong with him and his blood sugar levels seemed to be okay, but there was an air of not-right about him. It was a shock when he died, but not really a surprise. Tubby and I weren’t the best of friends and there were times when I wanted to smack him, but sometimes I just miss him so much it surprises me. There’s no one like Tubby.

Mr. Fancypants: It was a few days before Valentine’s Day of 1998. Fred had just proposed to me a few days before, and suddenly, for no reason that I can recall, we both decided we NEEDED another cat. At the time we had three cats – Spot, Spanky, and Tubby – and I guess we just wanted to even up the numbers. I think Fred and I had left work early, because the spud was still in school… No, wait. I think the spud might have actually been with us, but I can’t remember for sure. In any case, we went to South Huntsville, to the animal shelter. There weren’t a lot of cats at the shelter, but we saw this cute little girl tabby who seemed to be really friendly and sweet. We held her and petted her and decided she’d be a good addition to our family. We went into the office part of the shelter to start the paperwork, and a few minutes later a man came in. When he found out which cat we were going to adopt, he got upset. “I told you I wanted her!” he said to the people behind the counter. “I just had to go get money!” The counter people pretty much told us that it was first come, first served, and I thought the guy was going to burst into tears. Fred and I discussed it for a minute, then told the guy that if he wanted her that much, he could have her and we’d just go find another cat. So back we went to look at the cats that were left. In the cage above the sweet tabby was a fluffy black cat who swished back and forth in the limited space of his cage. He meowed sweetly at us and we saw by the note on his cage that he was the brother of the sweet little tabby, and that they’d been living under a trailer when Animal Control caught them and brought them to the shelter. We took him into the play room and, well, played with him for a little while. He seemed to be quite the character and we decided that he’d do nicely. Naturally, when we brought him home the other cats freaked out, but all he wanted was to be friends with them. None of the other cats we’ve had have been as friendly and willing to cuddle with the other cats as Mr. Fancypants. Tubby would let Mr. Fancypants cuddle with him, but it was never just a matter of laying and cuddling. Soon there would be grooming, and one or the other would get all worked up, and then there’d be biting and ass-kicking. We didn’t name him “Mr. Fancypants”, of course. He had to have an “S” name to go with Spot and Spanky and Snoopy (Tubby). We ran through a whole host of options before we settled on Stimpy. For a long time we called him “The Kitten” and then one afternoon he was flouncing across the living room, his long fur flowing in the breeze, and I said “He’s such a fancypants!”, and Fred laughed his ass off and then said “Well, hel-LO Mr. Fancypants!”, and a nickname was born. Mr. Fancypants was the most laid-back of all our cats. He’d let us pick him up and cuddle him and play with his paws, and he’d just lay there and purr and not fight to be put down. He fancied (hee!) himself a badass, but when it came down to it the night a stray cat came through the cat door into our house, Mr. Fancypants was hiding upstairs with Spot, Spanky, and Miz Poo. The only thing that really ticked me off about Mr. Fancypants was his habit of shitting outside the litter box when something was pissing him off – mostly, if we closed the cat door because it was raining or really cold, we could count on there being a turd outside the bedroom door. Little bastard. Mr. Fancypants went missing at the beginning of last summer (the summer of 2003). Although the back yard is fenced and the other cats can’t get over the fence, Mr. Fancypants was able to. He started jumping the fence at night and exploring the neighborhood, and one day I realized I hadn’t seen him at all that day. A few days went by and we called the local shelters and posted “Lost” posters of him, but we never found him. The hardest part of his going missing is that we just don’t know what happened to him, whether he was hit by a car and killed or attacked by a wild animal, or what. What I really hope happened is that in his neighborhood wanderings, he came across a family who didn’t have any animals, and saw him and fell in love with him, and he knew that in a family with no animals he’d be spoiled rotten, and went for it. A girl can hope, can’t she?
PFE: It’s not a long story. When Debbie and I lived together in Lisbon Falls and the kids were either at my parents’ house or at the babysitter’s, Debbie and I went to the Humane Society to look at kittens. There was a black cat there who seemed sweet and friendly, and before we knew it, we’d adopted her. She had several names – I think she was Montana for a while, and then we decided she was a badass kitty who was Pure Fucking Evil (PFE), and then for a while the spud would call her Suzy. She moved from Lisbon Falls to Rhode Island to Alabama with us (on the trip from Rhode Island to Alabama, we had a litter box in the back seat, and more than once PFE about stunk us out of the car when she went back there and used it). The summer after we’d moved to Alabama, while the spud was in Maine, PFE started having serious health problems and one day could no longer walk. Before we could get her to the vet, she died. You can imagine how stunned the spud was when I had to tell her that her cat had died. Poor spud. Poor PFE. She wasn’t really evil – she was a sweetheart, in fact.
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