So two weeks ago, daughter sent me a video on my cell phone. After much fumbling, I could make out a black kitten playing with a string in a car with a black interior. I then drove home, and mused why she sent me that video. She wasn't in her car, she was in Friend's car. Now Friend is rather famous for providing us with many animals down through the years, which is pretty good because she is only 28! But she is always rescuing something that she cannot keep, and we are on her go-to list. The last 4 cats she contributed to our house have all been black. I have accused her of being a witch in a past life, she seems to be a black cat magnet. OK. Friend's car, black kitten. Does that mean we have another black cat? Sigh.
My daughter agreed to quarantine kitten, as I lack an empty bedroom for this. She arranged for vet. She took care of newest kitten, and she is of course, smitten. Even better, I think he is her kitten!! One black cat is great, but any more and the logistics get difficult. Answering the most basic of questions, "Are the cats all in?" becomes really tough if three of them look alike, and you are counting as they are walking, running, hiding etc. Have they all gotten their flea treatment? At least there usually is a wet spot between their shoulder blades. Anyway, I have decided in an ideal world, one black cat is perfect. Of course I have 3 at this point. So I was very pleased that daughter kept the kitten now known brilliantly as Mork.
Jun 28, 2011
Jun 27, 2011
Dog is Good
Holy catfish I love my dog. Gibbs was a rockstar today, sashaying nonchalantly through the hospital, chilling calmly while waiting, and relaxing during the session with an almost bored air. What a total champion. Gibbs- I take back everything negative I have ever said to you. When I called you an 'infuriating overgrown dustbunny' for taking off so many times, I so didn't mean it. You, my dear dog, are proving to be far more stable than I am when we are out and about in the world. Thank you so much for being... not me.
On a different, more Mork-ish note: guess who is making solid stool like a professional?! Way to go Mork! We are all so proud of you.
Jun 22, 2011
Jun 20, 2011
Foffdaughter: Wizard-Vet
Ultimate-Vet, what a kind soul, took pity on Mork's household. So very close to earning the 'day of shameless blubbering of gratitude directed at Ultimate-Vet day.' Explaining:
(On Thursday) While drawing blood for testing (FeLV, FIV etc), Ultimate-Vet predicted the results would be available by Monday. Asking and answering questions in turn, we shut the door isolating Mork, and walked to the Vet-Mobile. (As all additions are, Mork was put in quarantine on the off chance of illness of the 'contagious' shade.) Some chitchat comment regarding the lovely weather got halfway out of someone's head when Mork began his lung exercises.
Perhaps Mork has some Siamese heritage, or maybe being lonely frightens him, and it is possible that dozens of mutant-vicious mice were using their serrated fang-teeth to slice off Mork's delicate toes and face.... Whatever the reason, this kitten can belt out a tune without a detectable tune. Words cannot portray his 'my-soul-is-being-gutted' yowl. Anyway, when this barrage of noise replaced conversation, Ultimate-Vet seemed interested in the most distant and polite way possible, with an expression that I interpreted as, "This new soft jazz playing in the background has a lovely horns section."
Ultimate-Vet called me on Saturday (a first for me) from a number I didn't know (other than 9-1-1, Ultimate-Vet's cellphone is the one I know best...getting called from the home number was another first for me) to talk to me about Mork. Just a friendly phone call letting me know that Mork's lab results were clean and healthy, and his presence did not subject Resident cats to any health risk. Note: It is unsure whether or not mental health was taken into consideration.
Ultimate-Vet acted heroic, as heroes tend to do, and the masses (okay.. me) swoon in appreciation. So classy too... Despite never saying a single word about Mork's obnoxious sounds, never once chortling at any neurotic twitch I may have developed, and never making a sly joke at my expense.... The quality of life for the duration of that weekend would have been considerably less, had this merciful phone call waited until Monday.
(On Thursday) While drawing blood for testing (FeLV, FIV etc), Ultimate-Vet predicted the results would be available by Monday. Asking and answering questions in turn, we shut the door isolating Mork, and walked to the Vet-Mobile. (As all additions are, Mork was put in quarantine on the off chance of illness of the 'contagious' shade.) Some chitchat comment regarding the lovely weather got halfway out of someone's head when Mork began his lung exercises.
Perhaps Mork has some Siamese heritage, or maybe being lonely frightens him, and it is possible that dozens of mutant-vicious mice were using their serrated fang-teeth to slice off Mork's delicate toes and face.... Whatever the reason, this kitten can belt out a tune without a detectable tune. Words cannot portray his 'my-soul-is-being-gutted' yowl. Anyway, when this barrage of noise replaced conversation, Ultimate-Vet seemed interested in the most distant and polite way possible, with an expression that I interpreted as, "This new soft jazz playing in the background has a lovely horns section."
Ultimate-Vet called me on Saturday (a first for me) from a number I didn't know (other than 9-1-1, Ultimate-Vet's cellphone is the one I know best...getting called from the home number was another first for me) to talk to me about Mork. Just a friendly phone call letting me know that Mork's lab results were clean and healthy, and his presence did not subject Resident cats to any health risk. Note: It is unsure whether or not mental health was taken into consideration.
Ultimate-Vet acted heroic, as heroes tend to do, and the masses (okay.. me) swoon in appreciation. So classy too... Despite never saying a single word about Mork's obnoxious sounds, never once chortling at any neurotic twitch I may have developed, and never making a sly joke at my expense.... The quality of life for the duration of that weekend would have been considerably less, had this merciful phone call waited until Monday.
Mork
(above) Mork and Catten Jack negotiating territory.
(below) lousy picture of the typical place for Mork to oversee events.
Jun 19, 2011
+1 follow up
Ultimate-Vet estimated the kitten's age between 10-12 weeks, but the same size as a 6-8 week old. Starvation stunted his growth, and his official weight now is 2 pounds 6 ounces.
Halfway through the checkup, the kitten pounced (spider-cat style) on the vet's pants, and started to hike vertically until mid-thigh level, at which point I snapped out of my stunned freeze and snatched the kitten off.
Pictures are hard to get of the rascal, seeing as how he will not only be in your face, but will also scale your body to perch on your scalp given the chance... Let the camera stalking begin.
Welcome to the family Mork.
Halfway through the checkup, the kitten pounced (spider-cat style) on the vet's pants, and started to hike vertically until mid-thigh level, at which point I snapped out of my stunned freeze and snatched the kitten off.
Pictures are hard to get of the rascal, seeing as how he will not only be in your face, but will also scale your body to perch on your scalp given the chance... Let the camera stalking begin.
Welcome to the family Mork.
Jun 16, 2011
+1
Over the phone --
me: "I was wondering when you could come out to the farm..."
vet: "What problems are you having?"
me: "New kitten... so the usual I guess."
vet: "Checkup, blood samples, stool sample, first round of vaccinations, and medicate for worms?"
me: "Yup."
vet: "I'll be out this afternoon."
A new (another) black kitten has joined the farm family. This little male was found in a parking lot during a storm, huddled under a car. Estimated age is 6-8 weeks, but I am currently waiting for Ultimate-Vet to arrive to perform the kitten's initiation checkup. I searched for any other kittens when I found this one, but found none.
Even though the kitten is in quarantine until his blood tests go through, he is zealous and fierce. He climbs up my jeans, onto my shirt, and keeps going until he can settle himself on a shoulder at which point his purring sounds like a helicopter. When he is slipping into a nap, he will sleepily knead the air and nurse on the end of his tail before dozing off entirely.
Cats do come in litters, so I went back to the parking lot today area trying to find kittens pre-roadkill phase with no luck. There were no roadkill phase kittens either, so that is something. Tomorrow will probably be my final try to locate any others.
me: "I was wondering when you could come out to the farm..."
vet: "What problems are you having?"
me: "New kitten... so the usual I guess."
vet: "Checkup, blood samples, stool sample, first round of vaccinations, and medicate for worms?"
me: "Yup."
vet: "I'll be out this afternoon."
A new (another) black kitten has joined the farm family. This little male was found in a parking lot during a storm, huddled under a car. Estimated age is 6-8 weeks, but I am currently waiting for Ultimate-Vet to arrive to perform the kitten's initiation checkup. I searched for any other kittens when I found this one, but found none.
Even though the kitten is in quarantine until his blood tests go through, he is zealous and fierce. He climbs up my jeans, onto my shirt, and keeps going until he can settle himself on a shoulder at which point his purring sounds like a helicopter. When he is slipping into a nap, he will sleepily knead the air and nurse on the end of his tail before dozing off entirely.
Cats do come in litters, so I went back to the parking lot today area trying to find kittens pre-roadkill phase with no luck. There were no roadkill phase kittens either, so that is something. Tomorrow will probably be my final try to locate any others.
Jun 6, 2011
Foffdaughter: The Vest
One of the found four-leggeds is a dog named Gibbs. He was just hanging around the farm gate, no collar, and that was that. No one responded to the 'found dog' announcements and no one was looking for him. He was estimated to be on the brink of 2 years old and in excellent health. No fleas, no mats, no injuries and only mildly underweight.
Gibbs is being trained as a service dog currently. Of course this is always subject to change if something just doesn't feel right for either one of us, but so far it has been smooth sailing and happy days for the pair. Within the past few weeks Gibbs has started to wear the vest during his exercises. Time was allotted for an adjustment period, change is scary after all, but Gibbs was golden fine. The general public is still adjusting, and I suspect this will be a permanent phase.
Some of the spoken gems thus far:
(reading aloud) "'Working dog do not pet.' Aww can I pet him?"
"Where can I get a vest like that for my dog? It is so cute."
(speaking to Gibbs in babytalk) "Oh aren't you just so handsome in your little outfit! Why are you all dressed up huh? Oh you cutie pie! What does your mommy need you to do for her?" (note: I chose not to respond to the questions directed at my dog. It is none of my business!)
"Holy shit that is a huge dog!" (note: Gibbs is not huge.)
"Now, see, I know that when they are wearing a vest you are not supposed to touch them because they are working. I do know that much!" (I am just staring at the speaker blankly but suspect that they are proud of their know-how or something and thought it should be shared.... ?) "I won't bother you but I just HAD to tell you how very beautiful your dog is." (I thank them for the compliment and move on mentally.) "I mean!... Ohh just breathtaking! I couldn't tell the size from across the parking lot, but I just had to tell you how pretty your dog is." And there is some extension of their arm towards Gibbs, twitching fingers, a simple, clueless smile on their face, and I correct them- JUST like everyone else needs correcting- but never mention what a waste of oxygen the whole thing was.
Without a doubt, there will be more to add later.
Gibbs is being trained as a service dog currently. Of course this is always subject to change if something just doesn't feel right for either one of us, but so far it has been smooth sailing and happy days for the pair. Within the past few weeks Gibbs has started to wear the vest during his exercises. Time was allotted for an adjustment period, change is scary after all, but Gibbs was golden fine. The general public is still adjusting, and I suspect this will be a permanent phase.
Some of the spoken gems thus far:
(reading aloud) "'Working dog do not pet.' Aww can I pet him?"
"Where can I get a vest like that for my dog? It is so cute."
(speaking to Gibbs in babytalk) "Oh aren't you just so handsome in your little outfit! Why are you all dressed up huh? Oh you cutie pie! What does your mommy need you to do for her?" (note: I chose not to respond to the questions directed at my dog. It is none of my business!)
"Holy shit that is a huge dog!" (note: Gibbs is not huge.)
"Now, see, I know that when they are wearing a vest you are not supposed to touch them because they are working. I do know that much!" (I am just staring at the speaker blankly but suspect that they are proud of their know-how or something and thought it should be shared.... ?) "I won't bother you but I just HAD to tell you how very beautiful your dog is." (I thank them for the compliment and move on mentally.) "I mean!... Ohh just breathtaking! I couldn't tell the size from across the parking lot, but I just had to tell you how pretty your dog is." And there is some extension of their arm towards Gibbs, twitching fingers, a simple, clueless smile on their face, and I correct them- JUST like everyone else needs correcting- but never mention what a waste of oxygen the whole thing was.
Without a doubt, there will be more to add later.
Jun 3, 2011
Foffmom: Feral Reality
Until I saw that emaciated little cat, I believed that feral cats had a nice life. "Everyone" had always said so. Living off the fat of the land as they say. Cats are great natural hunters. Everyone says that. So why was the little black cat starving before he was hit by a car? I have since rescued a few more starving ferals/abandoned cats.
The skinniest was Pippin, a gorgeous Siamese with long soft fur and startlingly blue eyes.
Pippin was prowling the ruins of a burnt house, sited beside a railroad track. I have no idea how such a fancy cat wound up homeless and starving, but he was. Luckily, he came to my daughter (we had been going shoe shopping until she pointed and yelled "Cat!"). He had a collar of ticks across the back of his neck. He was so thin the transverse processes of his vertebrae were clearly visible. We later noticed, when hungry, he yeowled loudly, as house cat often do. Guess the noise didn't improve hunting skills.
Opie was another nonthriving abandoned cat, one Daughter also spotted, as he chowed down on roadkill possum that had been flattened for 2 weeks. He was so hungry that he didn't want to leave his meal as I approached. He was thin as well, and had FeLeuk and toxo, as we would later find out.
Ferals have short life spans, 5-7 years quoted in some web sites. They encounter cars, dogs, coyotes, hostile cats, diseases and parasites,such as ticks, fleas, worms, and earmites. If unneutered males, they travel for miles searching for mates. Females cycle into heat at 6 months, still a kitten to our human eyes. Males fight one another, for mates and to defend territory. Females have litter after litter. Distemper can wipe out a feral colony. It is a harsh and hard existence. Seems "everyone" was wrong again.
The skinniest was Pippin, a gorgeous Siamese with long soft fur and startlingly blue eyes.
Opie was another nonthriving abandoned cat, one Daughter also spotted, as he chowed down on roadkill possum that had been flattened for 2 weeks. He was so hungry that he didn't want to leave his meal as I approached. He was thin as well, and had FeLeuk and toxo, as we would later find out.
Ferals have short life spans, 5-7 years quoted in some web sites. They encounter cars, dogs, coyotes, hostile cats, diseases and parasites,such as ticks, fleas, worms, and earmites. If unneutered males, they travel for miles searching for mates. Females cycle into heat at 6 months, still a kitten to our human eyes. Males fight one another, for mates and to defend territory. Females have litter after litter. Distemper can wipe out a feral colony. It is a harsh and hard existence. Seems "everyone" was wrong again.
Jun 1, 2011
Foffdaughter: I can explain!
My dearest, most beloved dogs,
Can't you see the fan that I have assembled for you? The location, tilt and strength of this fan were all carefully selected with your preference/well-being in mind. It is hotter than a nude nun jell-o wrestling contest, I know my dearest dogs. This fan contraption (you may recall that it was lovingly and laboriously presented by this humble two-legger) is your ticket to comfort and a sweet nap. Having said that- I hope that I am not prying when I ask....
Why in the FLYING FUCK do you both repeatedly lay down just out of reach of the soothing breeze? The fruits of this device will NEVER... not in a MILLION effing years... never EVER reach you even when it rotates! I move the damn thing time and time again, (including the towels carefully rolled and placed underneath the contraption causing a precarious tilt for your cooling pleasure) which is silly in hindsight but this is why: you both stare at me, buggy eyes desperately rolling, and you pant.
You both pant with such ferocity that your innards risk becoming outers. The gale-force exhalations create swirling clouds of shedded fur which dash across the floor and promptly cluster together in the farthest corner available. I would like to stare at the pair of you whenever I confuse your breath get with global constrion of the Earth's atmosphere, however looking in your general direction during this affair results in snap dried eyeballs and sulky remorse.
The point to all of this, you canine dears, is simply to tell you that I know it is hot. It is not my fault, I cannot make it stop, and I hate it too. It is hot and I am sorry for the summer in general, but also for the cyclops-eyed, cone-footed, purring tower of evil that rudely derails the scheduled airflow around your bodies which seems to be stalking you. So... I am sorry for all of that stuff.
Much love and shedding,
Foffdaughter
Can't you see the fan that I have assembled for you? The location, tilt and strength of this fan were all carefully selected with your preference/well-being in mind. It is hotter than a nude nun jell-o wrestling contest, I know my dearest dogs. This fan contraption (you may recall that it was lovingly and laboriously presented by this humble two-legger) is your ticket to comfort and a sweet nap. Having said that- I hope that I am not prying when I ask....
Why in the FLYING FUCK do you both repeatedly lay down just out of reach of the soothing breeze? The fruits of this device will NEVER... not in a MILLION effing years... never EVER reach you even when it rotates! I move the damn thing time and time again, (including the towels carefully rolled and placed underneath the contraption causing a precarious tilt for your cooling pleasure) which is silly in hindsight but this is why: you both stare at me, buggy eyes desperately rolling, and you pant.
You both pant with such ferocity that your innards risk becoming outers. The gale-force exhalations create swirling clouds of shedded fur which dash across the floor and promptly cluster together in the farthest corner available. I would like to stare at the pair of you whenever I confuse your breath get with global constrion of the Earth's atmosphere, however looking in your general direction during this affair results in snap dried eyeballs and sulky remorse.
The point to all of this, you canine dears, is simply to tell you that I know it is hot. It is not my fault, I cannot make it stop, and I hate it too. It is hot and I am sorry for the summer in general, but also for the cyclops-eyed, cone-footed, purring tower of evil that rudely derails the scheduled airflow around your bodies which seems to be stalking you. So... I am sorry for all of that stuff.
Much love and shedding,
Foffdaughter
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