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9/30/05

by @ Friday, September 30th, 2005. Filed under Life

Something in your house that isn’t where it should be. Booger. On the counter. Slurping chicken goo off the cutting board. I swear to god, you can’t turn your back for ONE MINUTE. Damn cats. Something you broke, but kept it. Strictly speaking, I didn’t break her – she came already broken, or at least with the eye and lip problems, we just didn’t know it at the time. But we kept her! Food that you have in your house that you never eat (or drink). Fred drinks the Luzianne; the spud drinks the Crystal Light Peach Tea. I cannot stand the taste of tea, so I never drink either. (I do like the taste of peppermint tea, but that tastes less like tea and more like a liquified peppermint candy, so it doesn’t really count as tea, as far as I’m concerned)

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Holy shit. It’s the last day of September! I think I missed the first day of Fall. Is the first day of Fall in September, or October? Okay, the calendar says the first day of Fall was on the 22nd. The calendar also says that that’s the day we were supposed to give Miz Poo and Mister Boogers their last dose of medicine for that weird gagging-coughing thing. I know you wanted to know that. I am in some FUCKING PAIN today, people. I guess spending an hour and a half bent over shit spots on the carpet takes a toll on your upper back and shoulders. That, or carrying 60 pounds of litter up the stairs. At one time.
I’m a badass, that’s right. What I don’t get, though, is why my feet hurt so much. I don’t think I did an inordinate amount of standing. I actually scooted around the room on my ass as I cleaned the poo spots out of the carpet, so that wouldn’t make my feet hurt. It’s a mystery. We were discussing Sugarbutt at the dinner table last night and his poo problems (What do YOU discuss at the dinner table?) and I compared him to a (grossout alert) soft-serve machine someone hasn’t quite turned off (/grossout alert) and the spud, rather than being grossed out, laughed and kept eating her dinner.
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For the record, every single Bitchypoo entry ever, is now converted to WordPress. Going through entries and stripping out formatting is some boring-ass work, let me tell you, and now that it’s done, I swear upon all that is holy, I’ll NEVAH go hungry do it AGAIN! Since every entry’s in WordPress, and because Freefind took it upon themselves to impose a limit to how many pages I can have indexed through their site (uh, not that they’re targeting me directly, or anything. I just had no idea before last week that there was a limit. Bastards.), I’ve taken down the Freefind link, and left up the WordPress plug-in link (look over there in the sidebar, directly under the calendar), so you can use that to search the site if you’re of a mind to.
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Do they sell hand towels at the dollar store? I’ve been using towels to line the bottom of Sugarbutt’s cage and the kitty condo I have in there, but I don’t really need full-size towels to line the top and inside of the condo, because they’re really too big. I had Fred go through his old t-shirts and pick out the ones he doesn’t really wear anymore, and I’ve started using those, but I think I’d rather use hand towels, since they’re the right size. I also could use some hand towels to wrap around Sugarbutt after I give him a bath, because a full-size towel is way more towel than I actually need. I think I’ll take a trip to the dollar store this weekend. Or maybe I’ll visit all of them – within a twenty minute drive, I could hit four different dollar stores. I’d be snide and disapproving about that, but I do love the hell out of the dollar store.
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The spud overslept this morning, and came frantically running into my room at 7:15, still in her pajamas, yelling “I overslept! My alarm didn’t go off!” I told her to get dressed and I’d take her to school, and I did – sitting in traffic for about fifteen minutes to get there – and when I called Fred to tell him about the unexpected beginning to my morning, he said “Her alarm went off. I heard it as I was coming upstairs after working out!” She must have gotten up and turned it off and gotten back in bed without even waking up. God knows I’ve done that plenty in my life.
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I just got the first three discs of Undeclared via Netflix. I must’ve been asleep at the wheel on that one, because we’ve got so many shows to watch lately that I don’t know when we’re going to have time to watch Undeclared. It’s taken us more than two weeks to watch Navy Seals Buds Class 234, and we still have one episode left to watch. I think we have about 30 episodes of South Park on the other DVR, and we haven’t watched any of those in weeks. I finally went in and deleted the episodes of The Practice I taped back in March, because I figured if I haven’t watched them in the past six months, I’m not going to. And I still haven’t watched this week’s Lost, which is a show I love and adore. I’ll most likely watch it this afternoon. Speaking of Lost, I was mostly annoyed by Kate last season, but she’s starting to grow on me a little, for some reason.
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Currently reading: Faithless, by Karin Slaughter. Finished late last night: Goodnight Nobody, by Jennifer Weiner. Really good book – that girl knows how to write. This one reminded me more than a little of… oh, hell. What the hell is her name? The writer… who wrote the book about the housewife solving a murder. The book was out twenty years ago. WHAT IS HER NAME? Susan something? This is driving me fucking nuts. I know I have a book upstairs by the author whose name I can’t think of, I’m going to go look for it. Susan Isaacs! For some reason, the only name I could think of was Susan Abrams, and I knew that wasn’t it. Compromising Positions, by Susan Isaacs, that’s the book I was thinking of. Also a good book, and worth reading.
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Things are going well on the Sugarbutt front (or should I say, on the Sugarbutt BACK. Ha!). He’s still a little more poo-covered than I’d like, but he’s doing WAY better than he was this time yesterday. I gave him a bath last night and smeared a dab of Preparation H on his poor swollen behind, and the leaking has pretty much stopped. I’m going to leave him in the cage another day, but if he continues to do this well over the next day, I’m going to let him out of his cage. He’s such a pitiful little thing, sitting in his cage and getting all excited when you walk in the room. It was a good idea to put Callie in there with him, because even though they can’t snuggle, they can play through the cage, and keep each other company. We let Smitty and Bear out to play last night while we watched TV, and they basically just ran in one direction as far and fast as they could, then stopped, turned around, and ran in the opposite direction as fast as they could. We also let Callie out to explore while I was giving Sugarbutt his bath and cleaning out his cage last night, and she had a good time. There was one moment when I looked at her, and wish I had the camera. We have this small garbage can in our bedroom that lays on its side so Mister Boogers can hide in it, and he was laying in the garbage can, she was laying on top of it, and she and Spanky were touching noses. I almost died from the cuteness. I pray for Sugarbutt’s poo issues to resolve, because I’d love to be able to let all four of them out to explore at the same time. Maybe in Monday’s entry, I’ll be telling stories about having all four of them race around the house all weekend. “Hey, lady. You gonna let us out of this room so we can go make trouble, or what?” “You woke me up for THIS?” “Okay, enough of the snuggling, I’ve got better things to do.” Despite the fact that she has her own bowl on the other side of the room, Callie loves to reach through the cage, pull food out of Sugarbutt’s bowl, drag it out onto the floor, and sit there and eat it. In the cage, Sugarbutt eats too. I guess it’s their version of eating together. “Why you hate me, lady?” Callie plays in the cube.]]>

9/29/05

by @ Thursday, September 29th, 2005. Filed under Fostering, Life

Warning: This entry contains much poop talk. Not that I describe the stuff in loving detail or show pictures or anything, but if the talk of poop grosses you out, you’ll want to skip down to the pictures and call it a day, ‘k? So, yesterday. What a day, I tells ya. I thought I was going to have a chance to sit down and write an entry, but round about 11:00, it became clear that that wasn’t going to happen. The night before last, I was sitting in the kitten room snuggling with kittens when I watched Sugarbutt get into the litter box, pee, and then get out, sit down, stick his hind legs in front of him, and pull himself along the carpet with his front legs. It was simultaneously amusing and horrifying, because if you’ve never seen an animal “scoot”, as they call it, it’s a funny sight. On the other hand, he was, basically, using my carpet for toilet paper, and suddenly it explained all those brown streaks on the carpet. Nas. Tay. I kind of shrugged it off, thought that maybe there was an itchy butt issue, so I gave him a quick bath and put a dab of Preparation H on his behind. Later that same evening, the spud and I were sitting in the kitten room, and he did it again. Clearly, it wasn’t a one-time thing. I emailed the shelter manager and told her what was going on, and asked if there was something I should be doing. Then I did a Google search, and most of the links I found indicated that scooting is caused by itching due to worms. I gave him Drontal last Wednesday as a deworming medication, though, so surely that wasn’t the problem…? While I was Googling around, I got an email from the shelter manager. She told me that scooting is usually caused by either worms or an inability to get clean. She said that since Sugarbutt’s got a prolapsed rectum, it might be due to that, but if I was worried, I could run him to the vet. So I got up around 7:30 with the intention of showering and getting dressed, running to Target for litter (I’ve bought my weight in litter lately, I swear), then being home so I could call the vet shortly after they opened at 9, to see if I could get an appointment for Sugarbutt. What actually happened is that I started some laundry, cleaned out our cats’ litter box, went in and let Callie and Bear out of the cage, cleaned out the litter boxes in the kittens’ room, did some kitten snuggling, and by the time I stepped into the shower, it was 8:30. Once out of the shower, I got dressed and decided to wait to hit Target until later. I ran to McDonald’s for a Diet Coke (mmmm, fountain soda. Nectah of the gahds.), did some more laundry, and then called the vet’s office. They had an appointment available at 4:30, so I took that, went upstairs to check on the kittens, and then headed out to Target. I know y’all know the issues with Callie and her suckling urges, and how I feel too bad to keep her in the cage all the time. My idea at first was to get a webcam set up, and let her stay out of the cage as long as she was behaving herself; I’d keep an eye on the situation via webcam, and when I saw her rooting around I could run upstairs and put her in the cage. Only, webcams can be kind of expensive and Fred wasn’t showing much interest in setting something like that up for me, so I got a better idea. While I was at Target, I went into the baby section. Did you know that they make video baby monitors? Target only had one kind of video baby monitor (not this one, but very similar to it), and it wasn’t priced too badly, so I bought it. I got home, got it out of the box, and plugged it in only to find that it wouldn’t work. I fiddled with it for half an hour before giving up, putting it back in the box, and calling Fred to whine about it. “I’m over this,” I told him. “I’m just going to let her into the house to run around, and her brothers can stay in the kitten room, and then I won’t have to worry about her causing irreversible damage to him.” But you know what letting her out to run around the house means, don’t you? It means that I’d have to set up another litter box for her to use, because the litter box we use for our cats is kind of big and hard for a little kitten to climb into, I already feel like I spend my entire day dealing with poop. Kittens, in case you’ve never been told, are little poop machines. They will poop and pee all the live long day, secure in the knowledge that someone else will clean out the litter box. While I was pondering the situation, I went upstairs, where I cleaned out the litter box in the kittens room for the second time. And I sat down to get some kitten snuggles, and as soon as I sat down, the kittens lined up to use the litter box. I got a firsthand view of how everyone’s bowels were moving. AND THEN I CALLED FRED TO REPORT WHO HAD DIARRHEA AND WHO DIDN’T. What have I turned into? I wasn’t this fascinated by my own child’s bowel movements when she was three months old, but with these kittens I can barely tear my eyes away while they squat in the litter box. So I scooped out the litter box again (good thing they’re so cute), and snuggled with them some more, and then I decided to go back to Target to return the baby monitor, then run to WalMart to see what they had for baby monitors. So I did, and when I got to the baby section of WalMart, would you like to hear what I found in the way of video baby monitors? Nothing. Nada. ZIP. I couldn’t believe it, because if you go on their webpage, they have scads and scads of them. Okay, scads or ONE. You choose. I thought about it for a while, tossed a couple of cheap fleece baby blankets in the cart (I’m going to make a cat bed for Spot because he’s getting old and creaky, and deserves some extra comfort), and then headed over to the electronics department. My thinking was that since a video baby monitor is an electronic gadget, maybe that’s where they’d keep them. They had all kinds of monitors, actually. They had a webcam! Alas, it wasn’t a wireless webcam and I’m not up for 60 feet of cable running through my house, so I kept looking. What I eventually ended up with was a monitor that consists of a camera and a little tv-looking monitor (which can actually be used as a TV if you so choose to use it that way), and basically it was the same exact thing as the baby monitor I’d bought at Target, only it was cheaper. It wasn’t as pretty, but who needs pretty? The kittens don’t care what the camera looks like. As long as it did the job, I was going to be happy. It was a Homeland Security camera and monitor, by the way. (Here’s where I’d make an inappropriate joke about keeping Smitty’s homeland secure, but… oh, wait. I just did, didn’t I? I imagined it being funnier. Or even funny at all.) So I left Wal-Mart, went home, and ate lunch before dealing with the damn thing. I got the camera and monitor plugged in and set up… and no picture. NO PICTURE. I was royally pissed off, and looked over the incredibly unhelpful instructions and swore and stomped and swore some more. And then I realized that there was a cap on the camera. SIGH. I took the cap off the camera, and instantly got a picture. I plugged the monitor in by my desk (but I can carry it from room to room with me, as long as there’s a plug nearby) and went upstairs to set up the camera. I got it set up, had it knocked over by the kittens, set it up again, and then a third time before they lost interest in it. I went back downstairs and read for a little while, glancing over at the monitor every once in a while to see what was going on. They played for a while, then settled down to snooze. I watched, wondering if Callie was going to do her thing, but she fell asleep on top of the condo, and I didn’t have to go up and toss her in the cage. Later, right before I left for the vet, they settled down to sleep again, and Callie jumped on Smitty and started sniffing around, and I ran upstairs, put her in the cage, put Sugarbutt in the cat carrier, and left. My appointment, as I mentioned, was at 4:30, and I got there a few minutes early. The woman who runs the front desk saw Sugarbutt and oohed and aahed over him, and told me how cute he was, and asked if she could hold him. He was so good – the entire time he was in the carrier, he just looked around and checked everything out. When she took him out of the carrier, he purred and looked around. She took him over to weigh him – 2 pounds, 4 ounces, which means he’s gained 5 ounces this week – and we discussed the fact that he doesn’t look anything like a three month-old kitten usually looks (but then, he IS the runt), and then I sat for a while waiting for an exam room to open up. Sugarbutt continued to be his sweet self. I’d glance down at him, and he’d be looking up at me, his head tilted to one side, and when I’d speak to him, he’d start purring and kneading. After about half an hour, an exam room opened up, and we went in. I opened the carrier, and he came to the door of the carrier, checked out the table, and decided that instead of walking around on the cold exam table, he’d stay in the carrier. The vet came in, asked what the problem was, and said he’d take a stool sample to check for… oh, all the stuff they always check for. But he got a look at Sugarbutt’s butt, grabbed a baby wipe and said that he thought Sugarbutt might have infected anal glands. He did something with the baby wipe that probably involved squeezing of said anal glands, and Sugarbutt’s response was to cry and claw his way up the front of my shirt. “Infected anal glands,” said the vet. “I’m going to take him in here and” something. Squeeze them, I guess. I called Fred to let him know what was going on, and I could hear Sugarbutt crying loudly in the other room. Poor baby. A few minutes later the vet and his assistant came back in the room with poor traumatized Sugarbutt, who immediately ran into the carrier and hid at the far end. The vet told me that he’d squeezed Sugarbutt’s external anal glands, but because Sugarbutt’s so small, he couldn’t get ( ::shudder:: ) inside to do the internal ones. He prescribed antibiotics, gave Sugarbutt an anti-inflammatory shot, and after talking to the shelter manager who was at the store to do Wednesday night adoptions, I picked up some cat food for our cats, and we headed for home. I got home around 6:10, and Fred immediately came out to get Sugarbutt and take him up to the kitten room. Apparently while I was gone, he’d let Callie, Bear, and Smitty out of the kitten room for a while and let them sniff around the upstairs. When I went into the kitten room to see how Sugarbutt was, Bear ran out, and I just shut the door behind him, figuring I’d let him run around while I was hanging out in the kitten room. Sugarbutt was belly-up to the food bowl, and there was a trail of little poo drops from the cat carrier to the food dish. I cleaned them up, and then gently used a Tuck’s pad to clean his behind. I went up again to check on him a few minutes before 7, and there were still more poo drops, and his butt needed to be cleaned. “Do you think the universe thinks I don’t deal with enough poop already?” I asked Fred, who had no good response. I cleaned up the drops, cleaned up Sugarbutt, and hoped aloud that the poo drops would STOP ALREADY. I went downstairs to check my email one last time before we started watching The Amazing Race, and glanced at the monitor to see Callie attempting to misbehave. I ran up, put her in the cage – and she sat looking at me with an expression that clearly said “HOW does she know?” – and went back downstairs to watch TV. After The Amazing Race was over, Fred and I headed upstairs. I leaned over to turn the monitor off before I went upstairs, and saw Fred’s legs cross the kitten room. When I went up, he was standing there holding Smitty, and I saw… I can’t possibly do justice to the sight. Take a large handful of cat food, toss it up in the air so that it lands in a scattered fashion on the floor. Now imagine that each piece of cat food is actually a DROPLET OF POOP. There was poop EVERYWHERE. STINKY poop.I spent the next half hour using rags soaked in bleach and hot water to clean up all the droplets. I thought about giving Sugarbutt a bath, but settled for wiping off as much poo as I could with Tuck’s pads. When I was almost done wiping up the droplets – and make no mistake, I wasn’t actually getting the carpet CLEAN, I was just wiping up as much as I could, with the knowledge that this morning I was going to have to bundle them up into the carrier and spend an hour spot-cleaning the fucking carpet – Sugarbutt jumped into the litter box, did his business, and then dipped his butt down into the litter so that it would coat just about his entire hind end. THEN he jumped out and ran around the room, dropping litter-encrusted pieces of poop wherever he ran. I thought about putting him in the cage for the night so his nastiness would at least be a little bit contained, but then I’d have to leave Callie out with her brothers, and over the past few days it’s become clear that if she can’t get to Smitty, Bear will do – I am an evil woman, who put poor little Bear in a cage with a very aggressive penis-sucking kitten. – so that wasn’t an option. I considered putting Callie in the cage by herself, and putting Sugarbutt in the downstairs bathroom, since poop is – I imagine – much easier to clean off a hardwood floor than a carpet, but I felt like it would be mean to separate him when he’s feeling (PUN INTENDED) poopy. I decided to wait and see if he was continuing with the poo droplets when I went in after Fred went to bed (I wait until as late as possible to put Callie in the cage, because I feel mean doing it). When I went in, there were a few droplets, but not nearly as many as I’d been worried there would be. I cleaned them up, cleaned Sugarbutt’s butt, snuggled with all of them for a while, and then when Callie started sniffing around Bear’s butt, I put her in the cage, gave each of the kittens a kiss goodnight, and went to bed, hoping that I’d get up this morning to find that the poo dropletting was done and over with. Believe it or not, rather than spending the entire night waking up every hour or so to think about the fact that a potential poo bomb was going off in the other room, I slept like a rock and actually forgot about the whole situation until I woke up a little after 7:00. I thought about going back to sleep until 8, but the more I lay there, the more awake I got, and I finally rolled out of bed and put my cleaning clothes on (a bleach-stained t-shirt and a pair of shorts) and went in to see what was going on. The drops of poo weren’t as numerous as the night before, but there was poo all OVER the cat bed (actually, the towel I’d put on top of the cat bed) and smears all over the floor. And in a corner of the room, one of the kittens (not, I assume, Sugarbutt) had left a pile of poo. The kittens gathered around my feet and squeaked at me, and I picked up Sugarbutt to assess (ha! ASSess!) the situation, and found that his back end was covered in poo. Smitty had poo on his tail, and (ugh) on his whiskers. I had to step out of the room to catch my breath and decide what I was going to do. I decided to get Sugarbutt clean first, so I gave him a bath – and let me tell you, dried poo? So easy and simple to get out of a cat’s fur. NOT. – and then put him in the cat carrier and put him to one side of the landing. Then I put the other three in the cage and half-carried half-dragged it out to the landing. Then I went in and sprayed every single spot of poo with a good soaking of Oxi-Clean and water. While I let that soak in, I carried out the litter boxes and dumped them, dumped the bowls of food, carried all the towels and cat beds into the laundry room, and during all that I had to shoo Mister Boogers away from the cage of kittens, because he kept running over to them, sniffing at them, and then hissing/ growling at them. He’s such a pain. Once the Oxi-Clean had had a chance to soak in, I got the carpet steam cleaner out of Fred’s room (Fred’s room is basically the place where we put all our stuff that has no other place to go), went into the kitten room, shut the door (so the noise wouldn’t hurt their ears) and spent the next hour and a half going from spot to spot with the hand attachment and cleaning every single spot. Some of those spots were extremely difficult to get up and required numerous soakings with Oxi-Clean. After an hour and half of cleaning, the rug looks pretty good. Not perfect, but MUCH better, and it smells a lot better in there. When I checked on Sugarbutt, there were three or four little piles of poo in the carrier with him. I felt bad for him, but there was just no way I could put him in the cage with the other kittens while he was pooping everywhere. I cleaned him up with a wet rag and left him in the carrier. By this time, the vet’s office was open, so I called Fred and said “If the vet wants to see Sugarbutt, can you come get me?”, and we embarked upon a five minute coversation wherein it was discovered that Fred was in the middle of a crisis and then that there was a misunderstanding in that he’d thought I wanted him to come get me, go to the vet with me, and then bring me home, whereas what I’d really meant is that he should come get me, I’d take him back to the office, and use his car. So I called the vet and told the woman at the front desk what was going on, wildly exaggerating the number of poo drops I’d had to clean up (I said 300, because it sure FELT like 300, but in actuality I’m sure it was no more than 75). She sounded shocked and went to talk to the vet, came back to ask me a few questions, then finally told me that the vet said he thought the problem was that Sugarbutt hadn’t been pooping because it hurt to poop, and now that it didn’t hurt so much, the poop was coming out. She said that it might continue for a few more days, and that I should put him in a confined area until it was done. If he wasn’t better in a few days, bring him back in. I was, to say the least, relieved. Because I’d worried that he’d just lost control of his bowels, and who is going to adopt a kitten who has no bowel control? I called Fred again to let him know what the vet had said, and we talked about what we could do. Clearly I had to put Sugarbutt in the cage, but I couldn’t put the other kittens in the cage with him, and I couldn’t put them back in their room, because the carpet was still damp from the cleaning I’d done. Finally, we decided that I’d put Sugarbutt in the cage, in the kitten room (the cage has a bottom to it, so he wouldn’t be on damp carpet), and we’d put the other three in the guest bedroom for the time being. I spent another 45 minutes setting up the guest bedroom for Bear, Callie, and Smitty, and cleaning out the cage, dragging it back into the kitten room, and setting it up for Sugarbutt. And then giving Sugarbutt another bath, which he didn’t care for, holding him (wrapped in a towel) for a little while, and finally putting him in the cage. While he got settled, I scrubbed out the litter boxes, scrubbed out the cat carrier, and started a load of poopy towels (on hot, with bleach). I checked on Smitty, Bear, and Callie – they were fine – and came downstairs to eat breakfast. Sugarbutt seems okay in the cage, though he’s not thrilled to be there. If I keep the door to the room closed, he howls, but if I leave the door open he’s quiet. Mostly because our cats – especially Mister Boogers – keep going in there to check on him, and he’s very interested in the big cats. Now I have to go vacuum the entire upstairs, throw the cat beds in the washer, and take a shower. Did anyone actually read this entire thing? If so, bless your heart. You must be really bored today, eh? Edited to add: I went in to check on Smitty, Callie, and Bear, and she was misbehavin’, so I let her out into the house to run around. She ran around and explored while I took my shower and did some laundry, and then Sugarbutt was howling so loudly and incessantly that I took her into the room with him (the carpet’s mostly dry) to see if that would quiet him down. It did, so I made sure she had litter, food, water, and toys, and closed the door. So now Sugarbutt’s in the cage, Callie’s in the room, the door is shut, and Bear and Smitty are in the guest bedroom. It keeps Sugarbutt quiet and Callie away from temptation, so I guess I’d say it’s working out well for the time being. Please send happy healing un-pooping thoughts to Sugarbutt, won’t you? Uh, yeah. THIS doesn’t make me feel mean or anything. Callie jumping down from the end of the bed to attack her brothers. Fightin’ brudders. Smitty finds the most comfortable spot in the room. (Does that afghan look familiar, Nance?) All of today’s uploaded pictures are here.

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Previously 2004: Which makes me think he’s out there talking shit about me, of course. 2003: He’s an awfully cute little kitty. 2002: No entry. 2001: I swear, my work is NEVER done. 2000: No entry.]]>

9/28/05

by @ Wednesday, September 28th, 2005. Filed under Life

Phear my l33t fotograffic skillz.]]>

9/27/05

by @ Tuesday, September 27th, 2005. Filed under Life

* * * I forgot to mention this: last Friday when I called my brother’s house to let him know that the car had broken down, I talked to him for a few minutes, and then I talked to my mother for a few minutes, telling her that AAA (who rocks) would be there in 30 or 40 minutes. “Well,” she said. “Did you bring a book with you?” Did I bring “a book” with me? HELL NO I didn’t bring “a book” with me – I brought FIVE books with me. When I was packing the night before, I said to Fred, “I’m going to be there three days. You think three books is enough?” and Fred said “You better make it five, just in case.” The man knows me too well. We’re both of the same opinion when it comes to bringing books on a trip: too many is far, far better than not enough.

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Speaking of books, I’m currently reading: Goodnight Nobody. Finished the night before last: Shakespeare’s Counselor, by Charlaine Harris. The last of the Lily Bard series – and I’m so sad to think that there’ll be no more Lily Bard books. According to the FAQ on Charlaine Harris‘ page, she currently has no plans to write another Lily Bard book, and her writing schedule is packed for the next three years. Clearly there’s only one thing left to do: start on the Aurora Teagarden series.
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Since I still haven’t watched My Fair Brady, Breaking Bonaduce, Desperate Housewives, or Grey’s Anatomy from Sunday night, I’m going to slap up some kitten pics and call this an entry. Oh, except I do need to say…
Dancing
I’m dancin’! I’m dancin’! Amazing Race tonight! I’m dancin’!
* * *
The bitter spray was a resounding flop. I guess that the need to suck is so strong that the bitter taste just can’t stop Callie from needing to do it. I’m a little at a loss on what to do, here. I feel so mean putting her in the cage, but I need to do it, because she can’t be dissuaded from doing her thing. I let her out of the cage this morning and she bounced around the room for a couple of hours with her brothers. When I noticed that she was slowing down, I put her back in the cage. She seems okay in the cage, but I feel like the Meanest Momma Alive. Fred and I discussed letting her out into the house and leaving the other three in the kitten room, but she’s still got a touch of the diarrhea. We discussed letting Smitty out into the house, and went so far as to let him run around our room for a little while last night, but if we let him out, we’d want to let a second kitten out to keep him company, and we’re not sure enough that they’re all over what they had, to let them out into the general population. I’d feel a lot better if the diarrhea was gone, though I’ll say that things are still improving in that area. I gave Sugarbutt a quick bath last night, and you would have thought I was torturing him, instead of dipping his butt and back legs into a sink of lukewarm water to get a little bit of poo off. Big baby. Someone suggested in my comments yesterday that I’m developing a fondness for Barrett. Honestly, my favorites change from minute to minute. One minute Sugarbutt’s my favorite, the next I think Smitty’s the bee’s knees, and so on. I couldn’t possibly pick a favorite; I love them all! They’re all just unbearably sweet. “Hellew!” Bear tries out his Matrix moves. Sugarbutt inspects Smitty’s tail. The kittens watching a feather toy. I love that you can see Bear and Callie’s fangs. Sleepy Sugarbutt in the sun. Kittens at the trough. Best. Picture. Ever. There’s nothing about this picture that doesn’t make me giggle, from Bear’s crossed rapper arms, to Sugarbutt’s open mouth (I think he’s cheering Bear on) to Callie’s casual observation. I LOVE IT. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here.
* * *
Previously 2004: No offense to you stoners out there, but the Warrens totally look stereotypical stoners. 2003: No entry. 2002: I think I’m going to start calling him The Todd. 2001: Does that kid’s face just scream “dilemmanated”, or what? 2000: No entry.]]>

9/26/05

by @ Monday, September 26th, 2005. Filed under Life

this entry, and this story about the spud made me laugh: Last week, after I had cleaned the downstairs (including mopping with lemon-scented pine-sol), the spud got home from school. She walked through the door, looked around, sniffed once or twice, and said “Why does it smell lemony fresh down here?” Also speaking of the spud, did I mention that she’s got a boyfriend? He seems like a good kid; he came over a few weekends ago and spent the afternoon watching a movie with the spud before they went to a party. He likes cats and was quite taken with Jodie, so that’s a definite plus in his favor. She spent Saturday evening at Big Spring Jam with he and his parents and had a good time. ::sniffle:: MAH BAYBEE’S GROWING UP! ::sniffle::

* * *
I was just saying to Fred last week that one of my biggest downfalls is that I always immediately believe what I’m told, without taking a moment to question the information I’m given. In fact, I said that it was my goal, before I turn 40 in three years, to not get caught up in the moment, to step back and look logically at what’s going on, before I rush into situations. Friday, we had Chinese food for dinner. My fortune:
Dsc08377
For once, a decent fortune. Usually I get stuff like “You cannot fall off the floor.” In this case, I think perhaps the universe is trying to tell me something.
* * *
The house where our realtor used to live – a quick little backstory, here: when we moved in, our realtor lived two doors away from us. A few years ago, he moved from that house to a house two doors down, so that he lived four doors from us (we joked that he was trying to get away from us) – went up for sale a few months ago. Well actually, first it went up for rent, then it went up for sale, and then there was a flurry of work being done on the house, and then there was a moving truck, and I assume he moved out. Well, whether he ended up renting out the house or selling it, I’m not sure. But in any case, people have moved into the house, an older husband and wife (there might be kids, I don’t know.). Anyway. My point is that the people who’ve moved into the house spend an awful lot of time standing in the front yard. Just… standing there. I have no idea what they’re doing, whether they’re trying to get in their daily five minutes of sunshine or taking in the view or patting themselves on the back saying “This is what a lifetime of hard work gets you! A lovely house in a lovely neighborhood!” or what. But I’ll admit that it annoys me a little bit, because it seems that whatever we do outside, we now have an audience. Fred and I were running to McDonald’s Saturday evening and Fred went back inside to get his wallet and keys, and Mister Boogers slipped out the door and ran out of the garage, under Fred’s car, and down the driveway. Fred chased him down and carried him into the house, and I glanced toward the street to find that the man who lives in that house was standing there watching us. On the other hand, maybe they’re cat lovers and stand out there hoping to get a glimpse of our cats. I got home one day last week after running errands to find the man standing in his yard, staring at our house. I looked at our house to see what he could possibly be looking at, and saw Spot, sitting in the window of the guest bedroom, staring back at him. I don’t know, it’s just a little odd. I’m sure I’ll get used to it, though, the way I got used to the neighborhood kids always running across our yard and always setting up shop in our driveway.
* * *
Dancing
I’m dancin’! I’m dancin’! Jen Weiner! I’m dancin’! I’m dancin’! Got the new Jen Weiner! I’m dancin’! Woohoo, I’m dancin’!
Miz Poo, however, is unimpressed.
* * *
I went to the pet store this morning to get some of that bitter apple spray, because I just can’t stand leaving Callie in that cage all day, and I really can’t spend all day sitting in the kitten room keeping an eye on her, and if I let her out to play, I forget she’s out, and then I remember and go running upstairs to check on them, and she looks at me guitily and Smitty’s got a wet penis, and I put her back in the cage, and she looks at me sadly and I feel sorry for her. It’s a vicious cycle. If the diarrhea ever resolves itself (things are improving; more on that in a moment), we’ll be able to let the kittens out of the room during the day and they’ll most likely spend most of their time downstairs with me and I can keep an eye on her. Of course, if we weren’t going to be selling the house in a few years, I’d probably push Fred to have french doors put on both of the doorways leading to the library, and that could be the kitten room, because that would be absolutely perfect. Anyway. So I went to the pet store this morning with the intention of buying bitter apple spray to dab around Smitty’s penis, so that when Callie next went to do her thing, she’d get a mouthful of nastiness (other than the “kitten penis” nastiness, I mean) and she’d stop doing that. The pet store I always go to didn’t seem to have a bottle of bitter apple spray for cats – the bottle said “for dogs”, and nothing on the label said it was okay for cats, and I know nothing about this, y’all. I had no idea whether the formulation for dogs and cats would be the same or not, so I hemmed and hawed and thought about it, and decided to go to the other pet store just down the street. Now, this other pet store… how do I say this? I’m amazed they’re still in business, because it’s small and disorganized and it stinks to high heaven. I KNOW, it’s a pet store, what do I expect? But the pet store I always go to, the one where I go and clean cages on Monday mornings, never stinks. And it’s big and bright and well-organized. Anyway, I go to Pet Store 2, walk in, and see that they also have bitter apple, and it’s also labelled for dogs. I look around some more, and find a bottle of stuff named (something like) The Bitterest Thing in the World (that’s not it exactly, but I don’t feel like going upstairs to look at the bottle). It’s made for all kind of animals, including cats. I decide to get that, and go up to the register to pay. Where the cashier harasse me to sign up for a store card. I say no the first time, and a second later she says “It doesn’t cost anything!”. I smile and say “No, thank you.” again, and a second later she says “You’d save 55 cents!”, and I smile ONCE AGAIN and ONCE AGAIN say “No, thank you”, but only because I’m too nice to say “I don’t care if I’d get the thing for free, I’m not signing up for your savings card, because I never visit your store, and you’re making me wish I never HAD, so SHUT UP.” She gives me a dirty look, finishes the transaction, hands me the receipt, and snippily tells me to have a nice day. I smile and walk out, because I’m too nice to say “Oh, I’ll have a nice day, because I live happy in the knowledge that I’ll never step foot in your store again.” Ugh. So anyway, I got home and use a q-tip to apply the spray o’ bitterness to the fur around Smitty’s penis (honestly, if I never have to regard another kitty penis, I’ll be overjoyed) and play with the kittens for a while. They’re bouncing off the walls, running around and playing and being wild, so I figured I had a few hours before I needed to check and see if Callie was doing her thing, so I ran errands, and started writing this entry. I just went upstairs, where the kittens were laying around sleepily, and checked the area around Smitty’s penis to see if it was wet. It wasn’t, so I considered the bitter experiment a success. Until I sat down, and the kittens all gathered in my lap, piling up on top of each other, and Callie came over and rooted around until she located Smitty’s penis, and the smacking noises began. Ugh. So I put her back in the cage for now. I guess later I’ll try applying more bitter spray around his penis and see if that works. If not, I’m either going to have to spend more time in the room with them, or we’re going to have to let them run around the house. I think what we REALLY need is a webcam set up in the kittens’ room, so I can keep an eye on what’s going on in there, but I seem to be the only one who thinks so. Hmph. As far as the diarrhea situation goes, it seems to be improving. Things aren’t as solid as I’d like them to be, but they’re getting there. Sugarbutt is doing better keeping clean, too. I haven’t had to give him a bath in two days, which is a good thing, since before that he was getting at least one if not two baths a day. He’s not terribly fond of getting a bath, if you hadn’t guessed, and I’m not terribly fond of giving them. These kittens are just the sweetest things. Over the past week they’ve gone from a little standoffish, to completely loving and snuggly and friendly. Bear, especially, is a little lovebug. At night when I go in the room to hang out with them, and I’m wearing my nightgown, they all gather in my lap, and would probably sleep there all night if I’d let them. They are just SO SWEET. They could actually go for spaying and neutering now, since they’re all over two pounds, but I’m going to wait until next week to call and make the appointment, because I want to be sure they’re past the diarrhea. And that’s the state of things in Kittenville. This picture rocks because both kittens are completely off the ground. I wish I’d gotten a closer picture. I love it when Sugarbutt gets feisty. With a mere look, Sugarbutt bowls Callie over. “So I says to her, I says “Look, you. I’m the boss around these here parts, and if I want you to go pick up my freakin’ dry cleaning and stop along the way to get me a snort of catnip, YOU WILL DO IT.” And then she quit. I don’t care, she spent all her time trying to get with my brother, but he’s got too much taste to deal with the likes of her.” Snuggle Bear. “We’ll just sleep here tonight. You don’t mind, do you?” Bear likes to sharpen his claws on my slipper. Sugarbutt takes a bath. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. Hmmm. I oughta have a cat pictures blog, don’tchathink?
* * *
Previously 2004: No entry. 2003: Immediately, screaming like a little girl, Fred levitated across the room to the fireplace, where he began dancing a jig, slapping at his legs, and screaming intermittently. 2002: But it’s still tempting. 2001: J’accuse. 2000: No entry.]]>

9/23/05

by @ Friday, September 23rd, 2005. Filed under Life

Gizmo!) So anyway. That’s been my day. I think I’m going to pour a big-ass Diet Coke and land on the couch and finally watch Lost. PS: I should be really pissed off about my car, but I cannot look at the damn thing without smiling and feeling a little pang o’ love. I still love E’gar. Kind of like knowing a guy’s no good for you, but he’s so damn cute…

* * *
The kittens are doing well. The first thing I did when I got home was let Callie and Bear out of the cage (I put him in there to keep her company, and gave Fred explicit instructions on keeping an eye on Bear to make sure he’s not being molested). The second thing I did was give Sugarbutt a bath from the waist down to wash off the poo. The problem with Sugarbutt, as I told my sister a little while ago, is that he probably would like to keep himself clean, but he honestly cannot reach around his great big gut to clean himself. He tries, but he just can’t do it. Hopefully once the deworming medication kicks in it’ll help with the size of his gut, and I won’t have to bathe him quite so often. Or so I’d like to believe. That ain’t a look o’ love. “Okay, let me think. You go left at the food bowl, bear right after the litter box… Wait, no. I think you go LEFT after the litter box.. No, that’s not right either. Did you check Google Maps?” Wet kitten, or drowned rat? You decide. Smitty makes the leap. “Give me that toy!” “GIVE me that toy!” “GIVE ME THAT TOY, WOMAN!” “Dude, your butt is wet. Why is your butt wet? What did that horrid woman DO to you?” I love this come-hither look from Smitty. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here.
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Previously 2004: Questions and answers. 2003: I feel like Eudora’s a creepy old lady hovering over my shoulder, reading my email, and threatening to tell my mommy on me. 2002: Anything more complicated than that, and I think you’ll have to look elsewhere. 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry.]]>

9/22/05

by @ Thursday, September 22nd, 2005. Filed under Life

* * * This is Fred’s proof that Jason Lee and Jonny Fairplay could be twins:

I have to say, I think I see his point.
* * *
We watched Nip/Tuck last night. I really like that show; I think Fred doesn’t care for it as much as I do, though. He thought it got a little too soap opera-ish in the second season. As far as I’m concerned, if I get to look at Julian McMahon, it can be as cheesy as it wants to be. Also, I think Kimber is about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. She’s ADORABLE. I taped Lost last night, but haven’t watched it yet. I’m waiting until after I’ve showered and eaten lunch to settle down on the couch. I can’t WAIT! Also…
I’m dancing! I’m dancing! Survivor tonight! I’m dancing! I’m dancing! Amazing Race! I’m dancing! Next Tuesday! I’m dancing! I’m dancing! If they put The Amazing Race and Survivor BOTH on Thursday night, that would be one seriously kick-ass night of television. Talk about your must-see TV!
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Pet store kitty pics from Monday are here.
* * *
How long does it take deworming medicine to start working, y’all know? We gave the kittens their first dose of Drontal last night and Sugarbutt was kind enough to provide me with a front-seat row of his usage of the litter box this morning. Things are firming up a tad, but aren’t quite to where I would like them to be. If you know what I mean. We weighed them last night, and the heaviest kitten – Smitty – is almost a pound less than Rambo weighed at 12 weeks old. Annnnnd, since I wrote the above, I went into the kitten room to take pictures and discovered that – this completely grossed my sister out, so you might not want to be eating right now – Callie was “nursing” on Smitty’s penis. I’m going to have to separate her from the boys; when the spud gets home this afternoon, I’ve got to go to Petsmart and get a big cage to put her in (Edited to add: Callie, not the spud. Heh.). The shelter manager (poor woman, I harass her so much, I swear) said that I could put bitter apple on his penis, but that it would probably sting him. Better to separate them; at least this way I can let her out to play with her brothers as long as one of us is in the room with them. Grrr, kittens and their issues! A rare shot of all four of them. Brudderly love. Such a pretty, pretty boy. Callie does NOT find this amusing. “Ugh. I keep hoping for steak, and what do I get? Cat food. Bleh.” Sugarbutt allows the belly rub. “Ahhhhhhhh!” All of today’s uploaded pictures are here.
* * *
I adore this picture of Spanky.
* * *
Previously 2004: If you had any idea how much time I spent backspacing and retyping words when I write my entries, you’d burst into tears of sympathy. 2003: Who the fuck are Nikki and Paris Hilton, and why would I give a good goddamn what they’re wearing or doing or driving or fucking? 2002: No entry. 2001: You know you’re getting old when you have to ask a 12 year-old girl who’s on the TV. 2000: No entry.]]>

9/21/05

by @ Wednesday, September 21st, 2005. Filed under Life

* * * We watched My Name is Earl last night. I’ve been wanting to check it out, but Fred LOATHES Jason Lee – he thinks he looks like Jonny Fairplay, which I don’t see, personally – and so I had to basically talk him into it. I wanted to see it because Kevin Smith gave it a rave review, which I know you have to take with a grain of salt, because he and Jason Lee are friends and all, but still I wanted to at least give it a try. It was really pretty good. We both laughed out loud several times, and the casting for the show was done perfectly – Jaime Pressly will always and forever be total white trash to me, since the first time I ever saw her was in the Jerry Springer movie. I even got Fred to admit that he liked the show, and given how much he’s always hated Jason Lee – he says he’s got a smack-me face – it’s got to be good.

* * *
Currently reading: The Next Big Thing. Finished late last night: All Families are Psychotic, by Douglas Coupland. Good book – it reminded me more than a little of the zany Dave Barry/ Carl Hiaasen kind of writing, and not just because it takes place in Florida. You know how in the Hiaasen and Barry books, weird and crazy shit keeps happening to the characters, and rather than stopping and saying “Hey. That was some crazy-ass shit that just happened, there”, they just take it into stride and keep plugging along? Yeah, that’s kind of what happened in the Coupland book.
* * *
Someone posted a comment yesterday telling me that I should rename the kittens, at least for their stay with us, and I stopped and thought about it, and that’s really a pretty good idea. Because the names a couple of them have just really don’t – this is just my opinion – fit them very well at all. I posted a comment back saying that I’d rename Sad Eyes “Charlie”, but actually, I was thinking about it last night, and I think I’ve really come up with the only name (considering the past few days) that fits him: Sugarbutt. So for the rest of their stay at Casa And3rson, Sad Eyes is going to become Sugarbutt, Little Cal is becoming Callie, and Barrett is becoming Bear, because he looks like a little bear. Smitty’s going to remain Smitty, ’cause that’s a pretty good name. I’ve been putting holding a damp sugar-covered paper towel against Sugarbutt’s (hee!) behind a couple of times a day for the past few days, and I don’t know if it’s the sugar, or the fact that I’m using Tuck’s pads (which are just pads soaked in witch hazel) to wipe him down, but things seem to be improving. I think once we can get past the diarrhea (we’re giving them deworming medicine tonight, more on that in a sec) things will get much better. I noticed last night that the kittens’ stomachs are big and tight. Sugarbutt, especially, has a huge round belly, but they all to some extent have big guts, bigger than I’m used to seeing on kittens. After some Googling around, I realize that that’s a sign of roundworm infection, and it’s time to deworm the little stinkers anyway. Hopefully the deworming will help, and also hopefully I’m keeping the room closed off enough that OUR cats won’t up and develop worms, because that’s not something I particularly want to have to deal with, THANKS. Callie does the hula. Are you talkin’ to Smitty? Are YOU talkin’ to SMITTY? You MUST be talkin’ to Smitty, I don’t see no one else around… Sugarbutt gives Smitty the sad little “Can’t I play with the toy, too?” eyes. Bear, up close. Such pretty eyes. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here.
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Dsc08180 Last night’s sunset.
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Previously 2004: “No, this is real time!” Fred sighed. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: Written by hand. 2000: No entry.]]>

9/20/05

by @ Tuesday, September 20th, 2005. Filed under Life

Say!!!

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Cats don’t like it when you roll up a piece of packing tape, stick it to their back, and then pull it off to see how much fur you’ll get (the answer: quite a bit of loose fur will come off with the tape). In fact, they get quite freaked out and run away, chirruping the whole while. In case you were wondering.
* * *
Why? Why why WHY would someone do a search on “Stick bottles up my butt”? Are they looking for instructions? Are they looking for pictures? And why would they end up on my site? Never mind. I’d rather not know.
* * *
I popped out of a fairly sound sleep this morning. I glanced at the clock – 6:45 – and listened intently. After a moment, I heard it again, and again. It sounded very much like a cat who was gasping for air, each breath more difficult than the one before. I took out my earplugs and listened some more, and it continued to sound like a cat gasping for air. My immediate thought was “Oh, christ. Spot‘s dying, and I’m going to have to take him to the vet and they’re probably going to have to euthanize him, and I’ll have to stand there and watch them and I DON’T WANNA!” I assumed it was Spot because he’s the oldest and has had some health issues recently. I grabbed my glasses and sat up, and as I did so, Mister Boogers ran out from under the bed with a bird in his mouth. Once he came under the bed, I could tell that he wasn’t gasping for air, but rather was growling in a rhythmic fashion. “GodDAMN you, Mister Boogers!” I yelled. He ran to the doorway of the bedroom and crouched there, growling a warning at Miz Poo, who was on the other side of the room, and Spanky, who was five feet away at the top of the stairs. I got out of bed, put my nightgown on, and walked over to where Mister Boogers was crouched. The bird was so motionless that I was pretty sure it was dead, but when I clapped my hands at Mister Boogers, he reacted by dropping the bird and running two feet away to sit and stare with glittering, evil eyes at the bird. The bird flapped its wings a few times, then lay still. “Oh grand. GRAND. You fucker!” I said to Mister Boogers, who ignored me. “You didn’t KILL it, you just wounded it horribly, and NOW I’m going to have to take the goddamn thing to the vet!” And I didn’t WANNA. The bird lay still as I stepped around it and went into the laundry room to get the rubber gloves I wear when cleaning out the litter box. I put on the gloves and leaned down to pick up the bird so I could examine it closer. Which is when it decided that it was time to get busy living, and it squawked at me in a pissed-off manner and took to the air. It flew past the ceiling fan – thank god it didn’t get caught in the ceiling fan, is all I can say – and I immediately hit the switch to turn the fan off. Mister Boogers, who was as wired as if he’d spent the morning slurping down extra-strength espressos – tracked the bird’s every movement. The bird landed on the top of the window and sat there for a moment. Mister Boogers climbed to the top of the back of the recliner in that corner of the room, and stood on his hind legs, trying to reach the bird. I yelled at Mister Boogers. The bird saw me coming closer, and took flight again, this time landing on the top of the other window. Thus ensused two or three minutes of Mister Boogers and I following the bird back and forth, while Miz Poo sat in the middle of the floor and chirped questions at us. Finally, I grabbed the phone and called Fred on his cell phone. After a moment of talking, we decided that I’d throw the cats out of the room, shut the door, open the window from the top, remove the screen, and hope that the bird was smart enough to glimpse freedom and fly out the window. I picked up Mister Boogers, who immediately went limp and chattered bitchily at me. I tossed him out the bedroom door, shut the door, and turned around… to see Mister Boogers standing on the bed. I grabbed him again, tossed him out the door, and again he managed to get back inside the room at a speed so fast my eyes had no idea what was going on. I was about to yell at him, when the bird squawked, flew for the window by the bathroom, and landed on the floor by the bathroom door. Mister Boogers, of course, ran over and started sniffing at the bird. I yelled at him to get away from the bird – which he ignored – walked over, and picked the bird up. The bird began squealing like a little pig, and I spoke soothingly to him as I carried him down the stairs and to the back door. I was like the pied piper of cats as all four of them followed me the entire way. I opened the back door, stepped out, and held the bird out. The bird looked around as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, and then he flew off, followed by a chattering Mister Boogers, a chirping Miz Poo, and a quiet Spot and Spanky. This is not, for the record, my favorite way to wake up. I’d been intending to sleep for another hour at least, but after chasing a bird around the room and then coming downstairs to set it free, I was far too awake to get back to sleep. Since I was up and wide awake, I decided to get some chores done. I spent the next hour putting laundry away, scrubbing out our cats’ litter box and the box the litter box sits in, which entails carrying the whole kit and caboodle downstairs and out to the back yard, where I fill the litter boxes (and the box the litter box sits in) with soapy water, let it sit for a few minutes, and then scrub everything and rinse it out. Then I left everything outside to dry and went upstairs, where I filled a clean litter box with fresh litter, then came back downstairs to get the box the litter box sits in, dried it off, and carried it and the vacuum cleaner upstairs. For the record, as I was carrying the vacuum cleaner and the litter box box upstairs, I thought “I wonder if this is going to be the time I fall down the stairs because I’m carrying too much shit at the same time so I don’t have to make multiple trips up the stairs?” It was not. Theeeeeen I went back downstairs, filled a bucket with bleach and water, filled syringes with amoxicillin, and went back upstairs. I left the bucket of bleachy water in the spud’s bathroom, went in to the kitten room, and gave each of them a dose of amoxicillin. I took a look at Sad Eyes’ behind, saw that he was caked with poo, and made the hard decision. I was going to have to give him a bath, because there’s just no way all that stuff dried to his tail and the area surrounded his behind was going to come off with just a damp cloth. I filled the spud’s bathroom sink with lukewarm water, made sure I had everything I needed, put the rubber gloves on  and went in to get him. I picked him up and held him close, and he immediately began purring really loudly. He did not, you won’t be surprised to find, much care for having a bath. But he also didn’t fight me as much as I thought he might, and it only took a few minutes of gentle bathing to get 99% of the poo off of him. My mistake was leaving the bathroom door open, so Miz Poo heard the sad little crying kitten and jumped up next to the sink to see what kind of torture I was performing. I picked him up to put him on the towel and dry him, but once he got his claws in my shirt, he climbed up me and ended up hanging on to my back. I grabbed the towel and walked to the kitten room, then bent down so he could jump off me, and then I grabbed him with the towel and rubbed him mostly dry. I totally should have brought the camera upstairs with me, because there’s just nothing so pathetic looking as a wet cat. Next time, I’ll try to remember. While Sad Eyes was being consoled by his brothers and sister, I cleaned the spud’s sink and counter with bleach and water, then dried everything. Then it was back into the kitten room to put them all in the carrier. I put the carrier in the spud’s room and shut her door, then went back into the kitten room with my bucket of bleachy water and a thousand rags. I honestly expected it to only take me about twenty minutes to scrub out the litter box, vacuum the room, and wipe everything down with a bleach solution, but it took me more like 45 minutes. When everything was clean as it could be and I went to get the kittens to put them back in their room, they were all snuggled up in the carrier, dozing. When I put them back in their room and opened the door to the cat carrier, they came out and sniffed around for a little while before flopping down and dozing off. Which gave me enough time to pull the towel out of the carrier, scrub the carrier down, and put a clean towel in the carrier. Then I started a new load of laundry, took a shower, vacuumed the entire upstairs, and carried all the trash in the upstairs down to the garbage can. So, that’s been my day thus far, and it’s not even noon. I think I need a nap. Smitty, asleep in the sun. Sad Eyes suggests that I put the camera away before he comes over and puts it away for me. (If you look closely, you can see a smear of amoxicillin across the bridge of his nose. I have no idea how it got there.) Barrett licks the water off his lips. Little Cal, up close. I love the orange stripes on the side of her face. All of today’s uploaded kitten pics are here.
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PS: Oh, lovely. I just went into the dining room to find that one of the fucking cats brought a cave cricket into the house, brutally ripped off one of its legs, and left it there to die. At least, I hope it’s dead. Those things fucking creep me out.
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Previously 2004: “This book makes me want to have a baby!” I said to Fred when I was about halfway through the book. “Let’s have a baby!” 2003: No entry. 2002: Gag city. 2001: I think you know what I’m thinkin’. 2000: I’d like to return to my regularly scheduled life, please.]]>

9/19/05

by @ Monday, September 19th, 2005. Filed under Life

We had no idea what was about to happen and I felt… envious. Is that strange? I wonder if, in four years, I’ll come across an entry at the end of August of this year, and think We had no idea what was coming and wish that I could go back in time and warn the people of New Orleans of what was coming. But who would ever have believed it?

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Today has been the busiest day I’ve had in ages. And now it’s after 2:00, which is way later than I usually get my entries posted, so I’m going to yammer on about the kittens a little, put up some pictures, and call it an entry. The kittens are almost 12 weeks old. They’re all from the same litter, and they are ADORABLE. However, they are also stinky. Because they have not only giardia, but also coccidia. Two of them seem to be mostly over it, but two of them are having diarrhea and one of them… oy. You don’t want to be eating if you’re reading this, trust me. He has pretty bad diarrhea, and – I warned you – his rectum is protruding about about inch from his body. The straining to poop is causing that, and when I asked the shelter manager what to do, she said that someone had recently told her to try a damp paper towel with sugar on it, held against the area. She hasn’t tried it herself, but said that she’d been told it worked well. I know I’ve got cat foster parents out there – anyone ever heard of such a thing? I think if I can just get him past the diarrhea the area won’t be quite so enraged and things can go back to normal. When Fred gets home, we’re going to give him a quick bath (the kitten, that is. Not Fred.) because every time he uses the litter box he gets poo all over his backside (again, the kitten. Not Fred.), and I’ve been wiping him down with baby wipes, but a) That apparently is quite uncomfortable, because the whole AREA is painfully swollen and b) The baby wipes aren’t getting the dried stuff off. Once the area’s clean, I guess we’ll give the sugar remedy a try. Foster parents, if you’ve got suggestions, my ears are open! I have a feeling that bleach is going to be my best friend for the forseeable future. Want to meet the little monsters? You know you do. (By the way, I didn’t name them.) Little Cal. She’s the only girl. She’s also the one who spends all her time kicking the other kitties’ butts. I love little torti kitties, they’re such characters. Barrett. He’s so gorgeous, this picture doesn’t do him justice at all. Smitty. You KNOW how I love the little orange tabbies! Smitty’s the least affected by the giardia and coccidia. He’s also the most apt to get into a fight with Little Cal. Sad Eyes. The only way I can tell the difference between Sad Eyes and Smitty is that Sad Eyes is smaller. Well that, and he’s always got poo hanging off his back end. Yes, poor little Sad Eyes is the one with the issues. And yes, I promise I’ll never slap up a picture of said rectal issues, because no one really needs to see that. Sad Eyes is my personal favorite of the four, because all you have to do is touch him with one finger, and he purrs immediately, very loudly. Poor Sad Eyes. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. All four kittens are pretty active. They all chase each other around and play, and they’re not so friendly they’ll come over and climb on me, but it’s only been a day. I suspect that they’ll be climbing on me soon enough. Sad Eyes is the friendliest, and despite the fact that I keep hurting him (ie, wiping his behind with a baby wipe), he keeps coming back over so I can pet him. For the time being, obviously, we’re keeping them sequestered from our cats.
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By the way, Rambo and Jodie were adopted Saturday evening – together. Yay!!!!
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The other day Fred and I discussed the fact that we don’t have nearly enough carriers for the number of cats that we have. If, god forbid, we needed to evacuate, there’s no way on earth we could fit all four of our cats in the one cardboard carrier we have. So Saturday, knowing that I was going to need a decent carrier on Sunday anyway, I went to the pet store and bought a carrier with a door in the front AND a door in the top. I’m going to buy one more at a point in the near future, so that we’ll have three carriers. We can put Spot in one, Miz Poo in one, and Mister Boogers and Spanky in one. Anyway, I brought the new carrier home and put it together, and within a minute, guess who was in it, checking it out? He’s the nosiest Booger there ever was.
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Previously 2004: No entry. 2003: Since he’s a year older than me, that’ll give me two years to theatrically take to my bed and waste away. Sounds about right. 2002: Obviously whoever lives at 308 belongs to the Bitchypoo “If I don’t know you, I ain’t answerin’ the door” school of thought. 2001: I hate you, Mr. Mailman. 2000: Only US Magazine would consider it newsworthy that Michael Douglas is changing diapers he hasn’t been wearing. ]]>

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