Oh my God, we found Sprinkles. I was in misery and then in a moment I was joyous. Such is the power pets hold over their owners. Or for cats, the power they hold over those they own.
We had given up for the night. It was dark, chilly and she's a calico, which meant excellent at blending into surroundings. It was hopeless.
I went upstairs a little after midnight to grab something from the old apartment and I heard a thud. Akin to "That sounds like a silo tipping over," I thought, "That sounds like a kitten jumping off a surface onto the floor!" I turned around and there was Sprinkles peeking out of the bedroom doorway. My heart sang, it really did.
We had worked out that after she ran out, she then crept into the hole under the stairs and stayed there. At some point, much like the ninja she is, she snuck back into the apartment and had been hanging out there for some time. What a character. Had me in tears and depressed and worried, and all along she was safe and avoiding us.
When I went to her, she was spooked still. The move was unsettling, the strange person in the house was frightening (she is not fond of men), and she was not interested in anything I had to offer. I eventually cornered her, took her in my arms and snuggled her against her will.
I took the squirmy kitty down to the Dude, who had passed out on the couch and woke him up while holding Sprinkles. She was dusty and wide-eyed, he was confused and then relieved and completely jazzed. She and Bea have been exploring the new place and seem to have adjusted, though Sprinkles is still a little extra skittish.
I can't imagine how parents feel when their child goes missing. I mean, I was sobbing and in agony over a cat I've had three months. We let the Dude's brother know we found her. Her said it was a good Friday. And it is.
As for the apartment, more things are unloaded and moved down. We need a whole lotta stuff to make this place work for us. It's gonna be expensive. And now I'm feeling extra happy I've already put down deposits on wedding stuff while I had extra monies and was able to get finite numbers of what stuff costs. For the next few months, we're going to be needing furniture.
Man, if we were 23 we'd be looking for milk crates and begging off old crap from family. Now I'll be looking to finance some condo furnishings from The Brick. I feel old.
Now I'm off to my hometown for some Easter goodness. Lent is almost over and I can have cake. The Dude is staying behind to be useful, god love him. It's been one hell of a week.
Showing posts with label kittens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kittens. Show all posts
Friday, April 22, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Lost
Today has been terrible. In every way things could have gone wrong, they did.
Sprinkles is missing. When the couch was being moved, the underneath area being her favourite spot to hide, she zoomed out. The Dude's brother tried to interact with her, but she wasn't having it. So she made a break for it to the bedroom. Well, there was no bed in there and when the Dude went in the bedroom, she darted past him, down the stairs, through the open door... and the front door was open.
We all thought it was closed. Sprinkles was gone. I seriously freaked out. I'm still freaking out. I can't stop thinking about her. I love her. I can't stand thinking that I might never see her again. Holding Sprinkles, with her sweet face and her spunky tail and her pathetic meow is one of the nicest things I do with my day.
We all looked for her, but I knew in my heart it was pointless. She's so easily spooked. She's this squirrelly ninja kitten and you can't sneak up on her. She loves to run away from you. Approaching her is not happening. She has to decide to come to you, her way or the highway. But still, we looked under cars and around homes and in the alley. The Dude and his brother went well around the block and couldn't see her.
She could be anywhere in the neighbourhood. She could be close by. I'm really upset. I don't think someone will be able to pick her up easily, Sprinkles being a total spaz, but what if she gets hungry and can't find her way home? What if she gets hit by a car? What if she fights with other cats or a raccoon? She's only half a year old and she's never been outside before.
This whole move has been a wretched experience. I just want to crawl into a corner and sob. All I can think about is how much I want my Sprinkles back.
Sprinkles is missing. When the couch was being moved, the underneath area being her favourite spot to hide, she zoomed out. The Dude's brother tried to interact with her, but she wasn't having it. So she made a break for it to the bedroom. Well, there was no bed in there and when the Dude went in the bedroom, she darted past him, down the stairs, through the open door... and the front door was open.
We all thought it was closed. Sprinkles was gone. I seriously freaked out. I'm still freaking out. I can't stop thinking about her. I love her. I can't stand thinking that I might never see her again. Holding Sprinkles, with her sweet face and her spunky tail and her pathetic meow is one of the nicest things I do with my day.
We all looked for her, but I knew in my heart it was pointless. She's so easily spooked. She's this squirrelly ninja kitten and you can't sneak up on her. She loves to run away from you. Approaching her is not happening. She has to decide to come to you, her way or the highway. But still, we looked under cars and around homes and in the alley. The Dude and his brother went well around the block and couldn't see her.
She could be anywhere in the neighbourhood. She could be close by. I'm really upset. I don't think someone will be able to pick her up easily, Sprinkles being a total spaz, but what if she gets hungry and can't find her way home? What if she gets hit by a car? What if she fights with other cats or a raccoon? She's only half a year old and she's never been outside before.
This whole move has been a wretched experience. I just want to crawl into a corner and sob. All I can think about is how much I want my Sprinkles back.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Sprinkly
A cat lady is born. They can't be made, you know. I was a cat child, then a cat girl, and at the age of 28, I am a bona fide cat lady.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Kitties for keeps
I will never understand people who don't love animals. Some animals don't lend themselves to love, granted, like reptiles or insects, for example. (Ha! As I was writing this, Sprinkles hopped on my keyboard and deleted my last sentence.) But mammals are inherently loveable. They bond to other mammals and that's endearing as heck. (Speaking of endearing, Sprinkles is now playing with Bea's tail.)
The Dude and I have now put in five weeks with our kittens. They were shy, introverted and skittish. They've really blossomed into sweet kitties who now eat, sleep and play in front of us. They'll now allow us to hold and pet them. They have recently begun to seek out love. That's my favourite part.
It's been an effort. We've essentially been taming them. We've been making them our kittens. They now know and trust us. And now no one in the world loves them like we do. It's not just the cuddles and the hilarity of watching your pets' antics. It's the relationship. It's such a simple one of caretaker and benefactor, but it's rewarding and satisfying. The goal of cat ownership is to make the cat as happy as possible.
Dogs need to know their place in the order of things. Rabbits need security and routine. Parrots need companionship.
Cats need worship. The more you spoil your cat, the better cat you'll have. The more it'll seek you out, rub against your legs, jump on your lap, sleep with you at night. I like that about them. You can't spoil a dog too much or the dog will spoil you (mostly your furniture). You can't spoil a child or you'll create a monster. But any urge you may have to indulge or pamper another living creature can be channelled into a cat and will create a more loving and affectionate kitty. In fact, the less you spoil your cat, the less your cat will want to do with you.
I have a nurture instinct. I want kids, and I don't believe in spoiling children. But the free-for-all in fussing over my kittens is very satisfying. And I'll admit it, it's also a way of having dependent and loving little creatures to care for in the absence of having my own kids. But even after I do have them, my kitties will have their place. When you devote this much time and energy into creating love, it's for keeps.
The Dude and I have now put in five weeks with our kittens. They were shy, introverted and skittish. They've really blossomed into sweet kitties who now eat, sleep and play in front of us. They'll now allow us to hold and pet them. They have recently begun to seek out love. That's my favourite part.
It's been an effort. We've essentially been taming them. We've been making them our kittens. They now know and trust us. And now no one in the world loves them like we do. It's not just the cuddles and the hilarity of watching your pets' antics. It's the relationship. It's such a simple one of caretaker and benefactor, but it's rewarding and satisfying. The goal of cat ownership is to make the cat as happy as possible.
Dogs need to know their place in the order of things. Rabbits need security and routine. Parrots need companionship.
Cats need worship. The more you spoil your cat, the better cat you'll have. The more it'll seek you out, rub against your legs, jump on your lap, sleep with you at night. I like that about them. You can't spoil a dog too much or the dog will spoil you (mostly your furniture). You can't spoil a child or you'll create a monster. But any urge you may have to indulge or pamper another living creature can be channelled into a cat and will create a more loving and affectionate kitty. In fact, the less you spoil your cat, the less your cat will want to do with you.
I have a nurture instinct. I want kids, and I don't believe in spoiling children. But the free-for-all in fussing over my kittens is very satisfying. And I'll admit it, it's also a way of having dependent and loving little creatures to care for in the absence of having my own kids. But even after I do have them, my kitties will have their place. When you devote this much time and energy into creating love, it's for keeps.
Friday, February 4, 2011
The Daycare
Before I get into what I've been thinking about today, of course I must talk about the kittens. We're giving them another medication now. Oh yes. One or both has a parasite and so they need a week of meds via syringe. Two syringes each, actually. What could be better for trust building than holding up your new kittens by the scruff and forcing nasty liquid down their throats?
We do this at meal time, which I make them wait for so they'll be plenty hungry and won't run off while there's still food. *Sigh* But what else can we do? But I'm super glad we got them, because maybe another adoptive owner wouldn't be so concerned about health or so diligent in their care.
Sprinkles started cuddling my legs last night and Beatrice is no longer running from me and lets me hold her a little. So things are looking up.
Now about my topic of interest today. I've been working on a lot of educational videos and today I was doing one that made me think about this daycare I went to. This place left a bad impression on me, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was mostly a very useful life experience. I only stayed there a year or two too long. And when objectively considering the facilities, I can understand now why my mom kept us there so long.
I started going to this place when I was 3. It was right beside my school (Yes, I entered kindergarten at 3. December birthday and such.) and so I'd get dropped off, walk there in the afternoon and then return after school. It was a structured place with about 20 kids, two age grouped rooms and about four staff, including a cook.
It used to be an old school. The principal's office was turned into a kitchen, the handicap bathroom turned into a unisex bathroom where the small children kept their toothbrushes and facecloths, the girl's one-toilet closet became unisex and the boy's bathroom was kept for older boys because of the urinals. The room closest to the entrance was for the kids in grade one and up, and the second room near the exit was for kindergartners and younger.
Each room had a sink, the Big Kids room was also an office of sorts, a couple long folding tables, two large hollow cubes, board games, some books, a black board, paper and markers and gimp and other such arty materials.
The Little Kids room was more exciting. In front was a low shelf of monthly rotating toys, and a collection of blocks. To the back right was the kitchen with costumes, to your left of the entrance was a corner with a felt wall screen and books, and in the far diagonal corner was the sink and crafting station. There were four or five tables with chairs for lunch and snacks.
Outside was a small fenced-in playground and outside the fence was a small barn of trikes, balls, shovels and pails, wagons and other things. Behind the playground was a basketball court. To the left of the building was a baseball diamond.
This was a very stringent place. Everyone knew the rules. The adults told them to you, but mostly the other kids made sure you remembered. One child saying "yes" and forgetting to say "Yes, please" would hold up everyone else getting their lunch. The staff would stand there and keep asking, "Yes, what?" and the other kids would hiss, "Please! Say 'please'!"
Every kid had to have their own bottle of sunscreen. So in the summer it would take 10 minutes for everyone to get slathered, older kids helping younger kids to get everyone moving. We were a 10-minute walk through a long field to a campground, which was owned by the parents of a staff member. So the Big Kids would walk to the campground's pool and swim for free. That pool is where the older kids taught me how to swim.
Behind the building there were raspberry patches. So the Big Kids would also harvest several plastic margarine containers full of berries and bring them back for everyone.
All of the girls made jewellery out of the gimp and threads and sold them at the school and brought the money back to the daycare and pooled it together. The owner used the money to buy us more crafts. The big cheese of this daycare, being a hardass, decided that since none of the boys helped make or sell, this special box of crafts were only for the girls. The boys complained but still never got involved.
As I got older, I started standing out among the kids. I'm pretty sure I held the record for lengthiest attendance at this place. 3 years old till 10 1/2. I was in grade 6 when I was taken out. Again, December birthday. Mix in a single parent and being the oldest and that's how you wind up in daycare in grade 6. I kept things interesting as best I could. One day I gathered the Big Kid girls and we made a circus day where we put on a gymnastics and clown show and painted faces.
It was around grade 5 I started to resent it. My classmates were starting to take notice I went to daycare after school and I was embarrassed. The girls closest in age to me were in grade 2. I got to be the cool (in comparison) older kid with them, but it's a lot more fun being the younger party in that sort of friendship. I remember those girls to this day and have fond memories, but at the time I was willing to say adios so I could be more like my classmates.
By the time grade 6 rolled around, I was not just a Big Kid, I was The Big Kid. About four grade 1 girls wanted me to draw them a princess every day. So I would. Four original princesses, every day, five days a week, about 80 a month. Then I would read a book I'd have selected from the library. Then we'd have to go outside and I'd play with the grade 1 girls by pulling them around in a wagon. Around this time, even being a kid myself, I really started learning a lot about relating to children. For awhile younger kids were my main companions for several consecutive hours on a daily basis.
Before I turned 11, my mom pulled me out of the daycare and changed her hours so that we could take the bus and that when we got home we'd only be alone a half hour. She saved money on childcare and gas, and I gained my dignity.
For years I could only remember the bad things. I remembered how snotty I thought the staff could be, how they would sometimes squirt us with water guns in the summer, how they were hard and authoritarian about the rules, which lent no understand to individual circumstances. I remembered childish injustices, some of which I fought personally and came out victorious (The younger kids would let me speak for everyone).
Five years after the fact I was called to babysit a girl who was one of the princess group. She had saved my drawings until her dad had thrown them out. She had me draw new ones and told me none of her other princess group friends believed I was her babysitter. So I had to draw more princesses and sign autographs. I'll probably never be called upon again to give an autograph, now that I think of it.
When I was in grade 7, my school was 400 people large, and could only handle 200. Another school was built and half of us left. The daycare lost most of their clientele. I've seen it in the years since. The playground was torn down, the barn was gone. And maybe because I was just older, but it almost seemed to have gotten smaller. And sadder.
And that made me sad. Even though I fought for years to leave that place and never looked back, even though I no longer live in that city, I still feel a small sense of loss. I suppose it's just a desire for some continuity and that the things I experienced weren't a blip in time. Maybe because I still say "Yes please" and "No thank you" at the dinner table and it's because of the daycare. Maybe because I can to this day draw an original princess in under five minutes. Maybe because I know where my ease with children comes from.
Memory is a funny thing. Don't know why it took me so long to understand what that place did for me.
We do this at meal time, which I make them wait for so they'll be plenty hungry and won't run off while there's still food. *Sigh* But what else can we do? But I'm super glad we got them, because maybe another adoptive owner wouldn't be so concerned about health or so diligent in their care.
Sprinkles started cuddling my legs last night and Beatrice is no longer running from me and lets me hold her a little. So things are looking up.
Now about my topic of interest today. I've been working on a lot of educational videos and today I was doing one that made me think about this daycare I went to. This place left a bad impression on me, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was mostly a very useful life experience. I only stayed there a year or two too long. And when objectively considering the facilities, I can understand now why my mom kept us there so long.
I started going to this place when I was 3. It was right beside my school (Yes, I entered kindergarten at 3. December birthday and such.) and so I'd get dropped off, walk there in the afternoon and then return after school. It was a structured place with about 20 kids, two age grouped rooms and about four staff, including a cook.
It used to be an old school. The principal's office was turned into a kitchen, the handicap bathroom turned into a unisex bathroom where the small children kept their toothbrushes and facecloths, the girl's one-toilet closet became unisex and the boy's bathroom was kept for older boys because of the urinals. The room closest to the entrance was for the kids in grade one and up, and the second room near the exit was for kindergartners and younger.
Each room had a sink, the Big Kids room was also an office of sorts, a couple long folding tables, two large hollow cubes, board games, some books, a black board, paper and markers and gimp and other such arty materials.
The Little Kids room was more exciting. In front was a low shelf of monthly rotating toys, and a collection of blocks. To the back right was the kitchen with costumes, to your left of the entrance was a corner with a felt wall screen and books, and in the far diagonal corner was the sink and crafting station. There were four or five tables with chairs for lunch and snacks.
Outside was a small fenced-in playground and outside the fence was a small barn of trikes, balls, shovels and pails, wagons and other things. Behind the playground was a basketball court. To the left of the building was a baseball diamond.
This was a very stringent place. Everyone knew the rules. The adults told them to you, but mostly the other kids made sure you remembered. One child saying "yes" and forgetting to say "Yes, please" would hold up everyone else getting their lunch. The staff would stand there and keep asking, "Yes, what?" and the other kids would hiss, "Please! Say 'please'!"
Every kid had to have their own bottle of sunscreen. So in the summer it would take 10 minutes for everyone to get slathered, older kids helping younger kids to get everyone moving. We were a 10-minute walk through a long field to a campground, which was owned by the parents of a staff member. So the Big Kids would walk to the campground's pool and swim for free. That pool is where the older kids taught me how to swim.
Behind the building there were raspberry patches. So the Big Kids would also harvest several plastic margarine containers full of berries and bring them back for everyone.
All of the girls made jewellery out of the gimp and threads and sold them at the school and brought the money back to the daycare and pooled it together. The owner used the money to buy us more crafts. The big cheese of this daycare, being a hardass, decided that since none of the boys helped make or sell, this special box of crafts were only for the girls. The boys complained but still never got involved.
As I got older, I started standing out among the kids. I'm pretty sure I held the record for lengthiest attendance at this place. 3 years old till 10 1/2. I was in grade 6 when I was taken out. Again, December birthday. Mix in a single parent and being the oldest and that's how you wind up in daycare in grade 6. I kept things interesting as best I could. One day I gathered the Big Kid girls and we made a circus day where we put on a gymnastics and clown show and painted faces.
It was around grade 5 I started to resent it. My classmates were starting to take notice I went to daycare after school and I was embarrassed. The girls closest in age to me were in grade 2. I got to be the cool (in comparison) older kid with them, but it's a lot more fun being the younger party in that sort of friendship. I remember those girls to this day and have fond memories, but at the time I was willing to say adios so I could be more like my classmates.
By the time grade 6 rolled around, I was not just a Big Kid, I was The Big Kid. About four grade 1 girls wanted me to draw them a princess every day. So I would. Four original princesses, every day, five days a week, about 80 a month. Then I would read a book I'd have selected from the library. Then we'd have to go outside and I'd play with the grade 1 girls by pulling them around in a wagon. Around this time, even being a kid myself, I really started learning a lot about relating to children. For awhile younger kids were my main companions for several consecutive hours on a daily basis.
Before I turned 11, my mom pulled me out of the daycare and changed her hours so that we could take the bus and that when we got home we'd only be alone a half hour. She saved money on childcare and gas, and I gained my dignity.
For years I could only remember the bad things. I remembered how snotty I thought the staff could be, how they would sometimes squirt us with water guns in the summer, how they were hard and authoritarian about the rules, which lent no understand to individual circumstances. I remembered childish injustices, some of which I fought personally and came out victorious (The younger kids would let me speak for everyone).
Five years after the fact I was called to babysit a girl who was one of the princess group. She had saved my drawings until her dad had thrown them out. She had me draw new ones and told me none of her other princess group friends believed I was her babysitter. So I had to draw more princesses and sign autographs. I'll probably never be called upon again to give an autograph, now that I think of it.
When I was in grade 7, my school was 400 people large, and could only handle 200. Another school was built and half of us left. The daycare lost most of their clientele. I've seen it in the years since. The playground was torn down, the barn was gone. And maybe because I was just older, but it almost seemed to have gotten smaller. And sadder.
And that made me sad. Even though I fought for years to leave that place and never looked back, even though I no longer live in that city, I still feel a small sense of loss. I suppose it's just a desire for some continuity and that the things I experienced weren't a blip in time. Maybe because I still say "Yes please" and "No thank you" at the dinner table and it's because of the daycare. Maybe because I can to this day draw an original princess in under five minutes. Maybe because I know where my ease with children comes from.
Memory is a funny thing. Don't know why it took me so long to understand what that place did for me.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
To Bea or not to Bea
The visit to the vet was uneventful, other than Beatrice found the rectal thermometer rather undignified. But they seem okay. And thanks to the six-week trial vet insurance we got with the adoption, we saved about $100 in fees.
It's so strange having pets again. As much time as Smokey took because of his diabetes and his grumpy old man behaviours and needs, these kittens are taking a lot more of my mental and emotional energy. Mostly, I'm concerned about their socialization and trust. The past week and a half has been devoted to being with them and getting them used to me and learning to associate me with happy things, like food. Hell, I missed two dance classes over it.
Makes me remember getting Smokey and Jerry when I was 10. They were young and helpless, and I bonded to them immediately. I started fretting early on about the day they would grow old and die. I loved them so much I couldn't bear the knowledge I'd outlive them. Haven't gotten there with Sprinkles and Beatrice yet. Reason being, they haven't been as receptive to the love. They're older kittens, about 16 weeks as it turns out, and they likely missed many important weeks of socialization.
Kind of a fascinating thing. We bond so easily to living creatures that look like they need us, but it really takes more than a sweet face or their acceptance of our comfort to nurture love. It takes knowing that your affection is welcomed and reciprocated. They're still reacting from fear, though it's lessening every day. I don't think we'll really truly bond until they let go of their fear and start to really trust us, giving us the benefit of their kitty doubt that we have good intentions.
I have a lot of patience for this sort of thing. I'll wait them out, earn their trust and then have the satisfaction of loving them so much I'll dread losing them. What a reward for really loving someone, eh?
It's so strange having pets again. As much time as Smokey took because of his diabetes and his grumpy old man behaviours and needs, these kittens are taking a lot more of my mental and emotional energy. Mostly, I'm concerned about their socialization and trust. The past week and a half has been devoted to being with them and getting them used to me and learning to associate me with happy things, like food. Hell, I missed two dance classes over it.
Makes me remember getting Smokey and Jerry when I was 10. They were young and helpless, and I bonded to them immediately. I started fretting early on about the day they would grow old and die. I loved them so much I couldn't bear the knowledge I'd outlive them. Haven't gotten there with Sprinkles and Beatrice yet. Reason being, they haven't been as receptive to the love. They're older kittens, about 16 weeks as it turns out, and they likely missed many important weeks of socialization.
Kind of a fascinating thing. We bond so easily to living creatures that look like they need us, but it really takes more than a sweet face or their acceptance of our comfort to nurture love. It takes knowing that your affection is welcomed and reciprocated. They're still reacting from fear, though it's lessening every day. I don't think we'll really truly bond until they let go of their fear and start to really trust us, giving us the benefit of their kitty doubt that we have good intentions.
I have a lot of patience for this sort of thing. I'll wait them out, earn their trust and then have the satisfaction of loving them so much I'll dread losing them. What a reward for really loving someone, eh?
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Etsy and Kitties
Okay, so I am addicted to Etsy. Mostly just browsing Etsy. It's incredible. I mean, how many talented artisans are there out there? Obviously not the ones that wind up on Regretsy, but you know. Online shopping has never been so good. It's like browsing a crafts fair, only you don't have to push through crowds, walk past boring booths or get a sunburn or exhaustion.
So I've been scoping out accessories for the wedding. I've found the hair piece, purse and jewellery I want, all on Etsy. And the beautiful part is they're inexpensive and I can read all the reviews of satisfied buyers. How did people shop for shit like this before the internet? They had to haul ass around various bridal shops, take whatever was available, and pay through the nose for it. Huge waste of time and monies.
I'm tempted to post pictures of my picks, but the Dude reads this puppy and I don't want him to see anything I'm going to wear.
Another thing I plan to get online is the cat cabin. Oh yes. As soon as we've moved downstairs, I'm buying that thing and plunking it down in my office. And of course the cuteness of watching kittens play in their own house will prevent me from ever being productive again.
The socialization of Bea and Sprinkles is coming along. I have them eat out of my hand now, as a way of building trust and initiating contact. The Dude hasn't had as much time with them as I have, so they're taking longer to warm to him. But Sprinkles and Bea are eating out of his hand as I write this and it's charming as heck. Bea is purring up a storm.
Thing is this happiness may not last long. I have to take them to the vet. Their eyes are sore and watery and Sprinkles is sneezing. I looked up the symptoms online and what they have appears to be a standard mild illness. But if it goes untreated, it'll make them uncomfortable for a long time. So off they go, and they'll get stressed out and the trust exercises will no doubt have to start all over again. That is, after we force them into their carrier, take them out in the cold, have a stranger handle them, force them back into the carrier, and then administer medications for potentially a couple weeks.
Sigh.
It's not like kids. Kids, though more challenging to raise and more expensive and time-consuming, will love you no matter what. Cats, though, cats are not such a sure thing. Cats can carry a grudge.
So I've been scoping out accessories for the wedding. I've found the hair piece, purse and jewellery I want, all on Etsy. And the beautiful part is they're inexpensive and I can read all the reviews of satisfied buyers. How did people shop for shit like this before the internet? They had to haul ass around various bridal shops, take whatever was available, and pay through the nose for it. Huge waste of time and monies.
I'm tempted to post pictures of my picks, but the Dude reads this puppy and I don't want him to see anything I'm going to wear.
Another thing I plan to get online is the cat cabin. Oh yes. As soon as we've moved downstairs, I'm buying that thing and plunking it down in my office. And of course the cuteness of watching kittens play in their own house will prevent me from ever being productive again.
The socialization of Bea and Sprinkles is coming along. I have them eat out of my hand now, as a way of building trust and initiating contact. The Dude hasn't had as much time with them as I have, so they're taking longer to warm to him. But Sprinkles and Bea are eating out of his hand as I write this and it's charming as heck. Bea is purring up a storm.
Thing is this happiness may not last long. I have to take them to the vet. Their eyes are sore and watery and Sprinkles is sneezing. I looked up the symptoms online and what they have appears to be a standard mild illness. But if it goes untreated, it'll make them uncomfortable for a long time. So off they go, and they'll get stressed out and the trust exercises will no doubt have to start all over again. That is, after we force them into their carrier, take them out in the cold, have a stranger handle them, force them back into the carrier, and then administer medications for potentially a couple weeks.
Sigh.
It's not like kids. Kids, though more challenging to raise and more expensive and time-consuming, will love you no matter what. Cats, though, cats are not such a sure thing. Cats can carry a grudge.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
The quest of foibles
I think I already love the cats, and I'll tell you why.
So today I had to work, but I checked in on the kitties to see how they were doing. Got more of the old hide routine, and Miss Bea had lodged herself through the barriers the Dude and I had placed around the couch.
We had shooed them out from under there and blocked off all the ways to escape back into the space. Their eyes had grown a little watery from the dust under there, and we didn't want them breathing all that crud in. So one of the barriers was a blanket we'd stuffed in the crack between the couch and the floor. Well, this morning Bea found a way in.
So I looked up other options. If we couldn't keep them from hiding under there, maybe we could make the room more enticing to be in. I made some calls to pet stores and found a plug-in scent thing that releases what is a calming natural odour that is supposed to mimic happy cat pheromones.
So I made a call. I would take an hour off work, walk to this pet store 20 minutes away, stop by this indie cafe to try a coffee en route, get the stuff at the store and trek home. It was damn hell ass cold, but I figured I could use the walk and I didn't want to waste tokens, as I only had two left.
So I'm out there, bundled and losing my face to the frost and I reach the cafe 10 minutes after my iPod died on me. I reach into my purse and realize I forgot my wallet at home. So far a very disappointing and irritating start to my quest. I'd already been out for nearly 20 minutes. So I walked back and arrived at home almost 40 minutes later from when I left completely empty-handed and chilled to the pancreas.
But I think about the kitties and don't want it all to be for naught, so I grab my wallet and head back out. Only this time I take the subway because I can't face the freezing walk of already-covered and re-traced ground. Plus I have to get back to work. So I go in the station and see that the train is delayed. I watch the train on the other side come and go for awhile, and finally my train arrives.
When I'm on the train I hear the next station announcement and realize I'm going the wrong way. Yes, out of habit I went to my familiar, regular side of the side of the station and went east. And then I thought of all those westbound trains I saw go by, that I could have been on. So I get out, cross the station, get on the next train and make my way in the right direction.
The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful. I got my coffee, I got my plug-in scent, and for good measure I also bought a cat bed and another dangle toy. And you bet your ass I took the TTC back. And what should have taken shy of an hour took me nearly two.
And I don't resent any of it. And the cats aren't out of hiding yet, and I'm feeling patient. And with this patience and the going out twice in the cold and spending another $70 without thinking, I know I love them. The Dude and I, we got a lotta love to give these critters. We just have to wait.
So today I had to work, but I checked in on the kitties to see how they were doing. Got more of the old hide routine, and Miss Bea had lodged herself through the barriers the Dude and I had placed around the couch.
We had shooed them out from under there and blocked off all the ways to escape back into the space. Their eyes had grown a little watery from the dust under there, and we didn't want them breathing all that crud in. So one of the barriers was a blanket we'd stuffed in the crack between the couch and the floor. Well, this morning Bea found a way in.
So I looked up other options. If we couldn't keep them from hiding under there, maybe we could make the room more enticing to be in. I made some calls to pet stores and found a plug-in scent thing that releases what is a calming natural odour that is supposed to mimic happy cat pheromones.
So I made a call. I would take an hour off work, walk to this pet store 20 minutes away, stop by this indie cafe to try a coffee en route, get the stuff at the store and trek home. It was damn hell ass cold, but I figured I could use the walk and I didn't want to waste tokens, as I only had two left.
So I'm out there, bundled and losing my face to the frost and I reach the cafe 10 minutes after my iPod died on me. I reach into my purse and realize I forgot my wallet at home. So far a very disappointing and irritating start to my quest. I'd already been out for nearly 20 minutes. So I walked back and arrived at home almost 40 minutes later from when I left completely empty-handed and chilled to the pancreas.
But I think about the kitties and don't want it all to be for naught, so I grab my wallet and head back out. Only this time I take the subway because I can't face the freezing walk of already-covered and re-traced ground. Plus I have to get back to work. So I go in the station and see that the train is delayed. I watch the train on the other side come and go for awhile, and finally my train arrives.
When I'm on the train I hear the next station announcement and realize I'm going the wrong way. Yes, out of habit I went to my familiar, regular side of the side of the station and went east. And then I thought of all those westbound trains I saw go by, that I could have been on. So I get out, cross the station, get on the next train and make my way in the right direction.
The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful. I got my coffee, I got my plug-in scent, and for good measure I also bought a cat bed and another dangle toy. And you bet your ass I took the TTC back. And what should have taken shy of an hour took me nearly two.
And I don't resent any of it. And the cats aren't out of hiding yet, and I'm feeling patient. And with this patience and the going out twice in the cold and spending another $70 without thinking, I know I love them. The Dude and I, we got a lotta love to give these critters. We just have to wait.
Friday, January 21, 2011
The first 48
It's so weird! We have kittens, but it's like we don't. They're under the couch. There's enough space under there for them to play and nap comfortably, so they're hanging out there a lot. Sometimes I forget we adopted any kitties. But it's been less than 48 hours since we brought them home. Patience is the key.
And they came out and played last night. Oh man, it was to die for. The Dude and I watched and tried not to make sudden moves while they explored the living room and scampered about and lunged at the scratching post. They have to come out to eat, drink and use the litter, and they're getting a wee bit bolder about it.
I guess it's just them learning how to trust us. They look over their shoulders constantly when they eat or pee, like they're nervous we'll come disturb them. At first if we made any eye contact at all they would scurry off. Now they're okay with being watched while they play. We still can't pet them, though. We're waiting for them to get comfortable with us walking around first, because as soon as we're up, they're outta here.
I'll post pictures when more are available. On Facebook I threw up some ones the Dude took to appease my supportive friends who were begging for some kitten pictures. But I'll hold out till we have some proper ones.
Sprinkles is very bold and frenetic about her play. Beatrice is more reserved and cautious. They cuddle each other under the couch. I'm already loving them. Once they let me pet and hold them, I'm pretty sure I'll be a goner for these cats pretty much for all time.
And they came out and played last night. Oh man, it was to die for. The Dude and I watched and tried not to make sudden moves while they explored the living room and scampered about and lunged at the scratching post. They have to come out to eat, drink and use the litter, and they're getting a wee bit bolder about it.
I guess it's just them learning how to trust us. They look over their shoulders constantly when they eat or pee, like they're nervous we'll come disturb them. At first if we made any eye contact at all they would scurry off. Now they're okay with being watched while they play. We still can't pet them, though. We're waiting for them to get comfortable with us walking around first, because as soon as we're up, they're outta here.
I'll post pictures when more are available. On Facebook I threw up some ones the Dude took to appease my supportive friends who were begging for some kitten pictures. But I'll hold out till we have some proper ones.
Sprinkles is very bold and frenetic about her play. Beatrice is more reserved and cautious. They cuddle each other under the couch. I'm already loving them. Once they let me pet and hold them, I'm pretty sure I'll be a goner for these cats pretty much for all time.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
The Kitten Quest
Kitties!
So yesterday I had had enough waiting around for kittens to fall into my lap. I'd tried the bigger adoption agencies, but realized I needed to branch out. So this is what the Internet is for. Back in the day you had to go to the Humane Society or scour the paper or know someone who's cat gave birth. Now you Google.
So I Googled things like "kitten adoption" or "kittens for sale" and eventually came across an ad for a small-time rescue agency. She traps feral cats, gets them vet attention, fixes them and adopts them out. I saw pictures I really liked of two female kitties a few months in age and made a call. She asked me some questions about my pet-owning criteria (no declawing, how long I planned to keep them, past ownership) and she said I could get them that day.
And I was not prepared. And so of course I said yes.
We made an appointment to meet at her place for 9:00. I called the Dude to tell him I'd found us kittens. He was jazzed, being the cat lover he is, and we started strategizing. We'd rent a zip car to pick them up, I'd run out to withdraw the adoption fee and buy some supplies: litter box, litter scoop, food, carrier, toys...
We got totally lost en route to see them. My fault, my fault... There are a variety of reasons I don't have a license. My inability to understand directions is one of them. If it's straightforward, I'm okay. As soon as a road has something particular about it, an unusual turn or whatever, forget it. Just forget it. We had to call three times to sort it out. The Dude, god love 'im, was patient about it, if not a little unimpressed.
So we get there with the bright pink carrier I just bought and met the girls. They were shy and nervous, but not aggressive. Their faces were to die for and they were very soft. I was going to name the blonde-orange one Pumpkin, and leave the pastel calico to the Dude to name. He likes people names for pets and I like cliches.
But Pumpkin didn't seem to suit this blonde kitty and I named the calico Sprinkles. Yes, Sprinkles. Try saying that without smiling. It's impossible. And the blonde was named Beatrice. So it's Beatrice and Sprinkles, who are now living under the couch.
We've got their food, litter, toys and carrier in the living room. Once they're comfortable enough to leave their cave of dustbunnies, we'll start introducing them to the rest of the apartment. They've had quite an exciting life so far. First they were strays, then they went into a shelter, then into a foster home with a bunch of animals and then to the lady's house where we picked them up. And they only moved there a week ago. So they'll be needing some time to adjust.
So the kitten quest is over, and now it's time to earn some love. I keep thinking about that commercial about adopting pets and how the dog doesn't want to play ball and the voiceover says the best part about adopting a pet is when they adopt you. When they come out and trust us enough to want to get to know us, I'll be so happy. And then of course I'll have some pictures to share.
So yesterday I had had enough waiting around for kittens to fall into my lap. I'd tried the bigger adoption agencies, but realized I needed to branch out. So this is what the Internet is for. Back in the day you had to go to the Humane Society or scour the paper or know someone who's cat gave birth. Now you Google.
So I Googled things like "kitten adoption" or "kittens for sale" and eventually came across an ad for a small-time rescue agency. She traps feral cats, gets them vet attention, fixes them and adopts them out. I saw pictures I really liked of two female kitties a few months in age and made a call. She asked me some questions about my pet-owning criteria (no declawing, how long I planned to keep them, past ownership) and she said I could get them that day.
And I was not prepared. And so of course I said yes.
We made an appointment to meet at her place for 9:00. I called the Dude to tell him I'd found us kittens. He was jazzed, being the cat lover he is, and we started strategizing. We'd rent a zip car to pick them up, I'd run out to withdraw the adoption fee and buy some supplies: litter box, litter scoop, food, carrier, toys...
We got totally lost en route to see them. My fault, my fault... There are a variety of reasons I don't have a license. My inability to understand directions is one of them. If it's straightforward, I'm okay. As soon as a road has something particular about it, an unusual turn or whatever, forget it. Just forget it. We had to call three times to sort it out. The Dude, god love 'im, was patient about it, if not a little unimpressed.
So we get there with the bright pink carrier I just bought and met the girls. They were shy and nervous, but not aggressive. Their faces were to die for and they were very soft. I was going to name the blonde-orange one Pumpkin, and leave the pastel calico to the Dude to name. He likes people names for pets and I like cliches.
But Pumpkin didn't seem to suit this blonde kitty and I named the calico Sprinkles. Yes, Sprinkles. Try saying that without smiling. It's impossible. And the blonde was named Beatrice. So it's Beatrice and Sprinkles, who are now living under the couch.
We've got their food, litter, toys and carrier in the living room. Once they're comfortable enough to leave their cave of dustbunnies, we'll start introducing them to the rest of the apartment. They've had quite an exciting life so far. First they were strays, then they went into a shelter, then into a foster home with a bunch of animals and then to the lady's house where we picked them up. And they only moved there a week ago. So they'll be needing some time to adjust.
So the kitten quest is over, and now it's time to earn some love. I keep thinking about that commercial about adopting pets and how the dog doesn't want to play ball and the voiceover says the best part about adopting a pet is when they adopt you. When they come out and trust us enough to want to get to know us, I'll be so happy. And then of course I'll have some pictures to share.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)