Meet Aiko, our Ides of March Baby

Thursday was the day that we brought home a new little baby to fill the void in our hearts left by Nicky's passing.  Once I finally decided that I was ready to go out and find our new baby, I was so excited!  The 20 minute drive to the local cat shelter felt like it took forever but it was worth it.  Meet Aiko, our newest baby.

Aiko means "little loved one" in Japanese.  All my life -- as long as I can remember, certainly long before I became a teenager who thought about having her own family and then an adult who decided her only children would be of the furry kind -- I have wanted to name a baby Aiko, but that name never before fit.  If you've been a consistent reader of this blog, you know that I am a bit woo-woo.  I do believe that animals listen and understand and that if you ask what their name is, you'll know.  This is the Aiko I've been waiting for my whole life.

Aiko's shelter name was Kit Kat, part of "the candy bar litter" brought to the shelter last May when they were a few days old.  This litter was found in a sawdust bin in a mill a couple hours away and they were lucky enough to be spotted by someone who knew to take them to a good shelter.  This particular shelter is in an old house and has, I'm sure, well over 100 cats -- and it's not even kitten season.  This is probably why the shelter is trying a program to get as many cats spayed/neutered as possible -- to end the cat overpopulation problem.  At this shelter, one can see the overpopulation problem first-hand.  Aiko shared a room with 20 or 25 other adolescent cats between six and twelve months old, all very loving, all with a clean bill of health, all needing homes.

It makes me very upset when people don't have their animals fixed, especially when most humane societies and other rescue organizations offer vet partnerships so that the cost is low and it can be done as soon as pets hit a certain weight (for cats it's two pounds, or about eight weeks old).  There are times when a pet legitimately cannot be fixed and so that I understand.  For example, a friend of mine has a kitten she found abandoned at a very young age.  The kitten can't be fixed, though, because she has a heart murmur and the anesthesia could kill her.  She'll be an indoor kitty her whole life and she won't contribute to the overpopulation problem.

But back to my story.

Every time I get ready to welcome a new pet into the house, I get a little apprehensive.  What if she doesn't fit in? What if she turns out to be crazy? What if I choose the wrong one?  All of these questions swirl around in my mind even though the more sane part of me knows that I have had incredible success choosing pets and if I just listen to my own intuition I am fine.

Listening to my own intuition is one of the reasons I spend a lot of time waiting and looking and thinking before making a decision.  To the untrained eye, it might look like I was spontaneous on Thursday -- my meeting was canceled, so I hopped in the car and drove to the shelter.  But to those in the know, Thursday was the result of weeks of planning and preparation.  My intuition told me that it was finally the day.

I have a system for bringing pets into the house.  Part of it involves preparing the current pets for a new addition, much like parents prepare a child for a new baby.  The other part involves looking for signs or talking to the prospective new baby.  It may sound strange, but it works.

On the drive to the shelter, I said, "Little one, when you see me, I want you to run up, cuddle, and start purring."  This is not always the determining factor when choosing a pet, but I knew that for this one I wanted a cat who was very lovey.  Over the past few weeks I set purpose statements around what I wanted -- some people might call this praying because it's very similar.  In these statements, I was clear that I wanted a black cat (although I was open to a tabby, too, because they tend to be my favorites), one that was a little lover, and one that was curious enough to stand up to the other pets as they reacted to a newbie.  I wasn't sure if I was going to get a boy or girl (although aside from Nicky we've generally had a "no male pets" rule in the house), but I thought that it would probably answer to one of three names.

When I arrived at the shelter, I told the woman working there that I was looking to bring a little one home to a house with three other cats and a dog.  I wanted a loving cat under a year old.  When I first got in the car, I thought I'd ask to see the new litter of kittens, but that's not what came out of my mouth at the shelter and so the woman took me to the crowded room of adolescent cats saying, "They are all so loving, they'll mob you."

That is exactly what happened. A giant cloud of fur headed my way, but one cat in particular responded to my message.  She took a flying leap from across the room, crawled up to my shoulder, curled up and started purring. I stood.  This was the one.  Immediately, the mob of cats dissipated.  The woman said, "They must know you've already chosen. I've never seen them do that before."  We talked for a few more minutes in the room.  I crouched back down and called a few over to give them love while I was there and then sat my kitty down so I could exit and fill out paperwork.  She followed me, trying to get out of the gate that kept her trapped in the room and my heart melted.

Paperwork and flea check complete, I loaded the kitty into the carrier and took her to the car where Lotus was waiting.  This was test number one: see how a cat who's never seen a dog before reacts to Lotus.  I opened the lid to the carrier so that Lotus could sniff and said, "Lotus, meet Aiko," the name rolling off my tongue so quickly and easily that I knew it was her name.  Lotus sniffed, Aiko looked, and then they went about their own business.  Aiko never meowed on the drive -- she knew she was going home.

Honey pulled into the driveway right as I did, which was perfect timing.  When we bring pets home I have certain "rules" about the amount of time the rest of the family should be home to help the new one adjust.  This was perfect.

Now "experts" say that cats should be introduced slowly, over the course of days or a week, and that during this time the new one should be kept in a separate room away from the others.  Perhaps this is necessary if one has mean pets or a tiny house, but I say it's hogwash and only serves to prolong the transition.  (Now of course there are exceptions if you are concerned that one pet might be sick -- like Nick and Nora were when we took them home -- and so quarantine is important so that the sickness doesn't spread.)

Aiko explored her surroundings and her new family.  Canvas and Lotus both had the same reaction: "Oh, okay Mom, you brought home another one.  Whatever." and they went about their daily routine.  Bunny is our welcome kitty. She still hisses a few times, but she follows babies around, shows them where things are, and only hisses when they put a face in her face.  Nora is the most standoffish right now.  After 24 hours she was to the point of only hissing when Aiko was within a foot of her, but she is making her displeasure known through her glares.  All of the cats hang out at the same time in the same room, though, so it's just a matter of time before Nora warms up to Aiko.  (It could partially be due to the smell -- I've been giving Aiko cloth baths because she smells like a stinky shelter. That should fix itself in a day or two.)

Did I get what I wanted?  Absolutely!  Aiko has responded to her name from the moment she heard it.  She comes running whenever we call.  She follows me around the house and loves to be held.  I don't think she's stopped purring since she got home!

I needed to be able to do things today, so we tried the kitty sling for the first time and she loved it.  She can now be close to Mommy and I can have my hands free!

We are so happy to have another furry baby to fill the hole in this family.  And Aiko truly lives up to her name -- she is loving and well-loved!

Rest in Peace, my little Chunky Monkey

The past week has been full of emotion.  It was one week ago last night that Nicky, our little Chunky Monkey, started deteriorating.  Those of you following the saga know that in January our little cat was diagnosed with kidney failure at the age of two and a half.  I now am fairly sure that it was actually cancer that led to the kidney failure, but that doesn't matter right now.  The best care in the world can't reverse kidney failure once it's been diagnosed in cats because it's not found until kidneys are at least 70% gone.

We were lucky, in some regard, because when I took Nicky in in January he was so sick that the vet thought he wouldn't last more than a day or two. He didn't respond to any treatment.  Then we tried acupuncture.  It was a miracle.  He perked up!  He started eating and drinking and peeing and gaining weight -- all good signs.  I was baffled and didn't know what to expect, but thrilled nonetheless.

The alternative treatments -- he had three or four acupuncture treatments altogether -- helped give us all enough time to get used to the idea that we would have to say goodbye.

As February drew to a close, Nicky's health was getting worse again. He'd respond to treatment, but after a few days look like he was getting worse.  He lost control of his bladder, so we ended up with kitty diapers and puppy pads.

I stopped sleeping much at night, and when I did sleep it was very lightly -- I wanted to be able to hear Nicky if he called (which he did every time he was hungry or needed a diaper change -- much like a human infant).  We didn't want to put him down just because of bladder issues because every time I had the acupuncturist check for signs of pain he didn't exhibit any.  He was fine just being mommy's baby for a while.

Last Monday, his gums started bleeding.  This is a sign of the last stages of cancer and kidney failure.  I rushed him in to the vet's, but there was nothing to be done other than to give him some pain medication for his gums just in case he needed it.  They offered to put him to sleep, but I said no -- he wasn't in pain.  My plan was always for him to be able to go on his own.  For weeks I had told him that it was okay for him to go whenever he needed to and that we would miss him and be sad but we don't want him in pain.  Monday changed my message; I started telling him he couldn't stay.  His body was too broken.  Yet he still clung to life.

Nicky's last day

On Tuesday he was worse, but still not showing signs of being in pain.  I called the vet and made an appointment for Thursday afternoon and then I started telling Nicky that he needed to go on his own, but if he couldn't manage, I would get the vet to help.

Wednesday evening brought one last hurrah.  A friend who practices pet reiki came over to help with Nicky.  She confirmed that he was not in pain -- just stubbornly clinging to life.  It seems his mind knew he was still a little boy and so well loved, so he didn't want to leave.  His willpower was keeping him alive by this point -- he was stinky, unable to eat, entirely dependent on me, and hadn't moved much that day, confirming to my heart that the decision to make an appointment for Thursday was the right one.  He needed to leave -- he just didn't want to.  Every time this friend worked on him and I told him, "Nicky, I love you, but you need to leave. It's okay, it will be easy, but you need to go" he pulled himself up and moved.  Every. Single. Time.  Finally we tried a new tactic -- R. showed Nicky that his body couldn't heal as I told him the same thing: the body was done.  He peed.  (I took that as a sign of his displeasure.)  And right after that, he lay down and indicated he was done, almost like he was giving up.  Message received, Mom, he said.

That night, we stayed awake together on the couch for the entire night.  I gave him some of the pain medication from the doctor because he had finally started showing he was in pain.  And every time I started falling asleep, he meowed, waking me up.  He knew.

And so I stayed up and sang to him.  We had several songs that were ours.  That last evening, this song from the movie Beaches was the one I sang most often.

On Thursday morning, I was exhausted.  Nicky was not doing well and I gave him more pain medication.  We then stayed curled up together as I spoke to him, told him how much I loved him, told him about the better place he was going to, told him cats have nine lives and he can come back later in a better body.  I told him I would miss him.

At 11:30, he was crying.  I could tell he was in pain again and this was the end because he stood up and tried to get out of his bed.  I placed him on the floor, knowing he wanted to go to his favorite spot -- the bathroom.  He used to love watching the shower water and every morning before he was sick I would hear him talking in there, waiting for me to come in and pick him up. (And if I didn't heed the call, watch out! He'd unravel the toilet paper.)  On this morning, he pulled himself to his favorite spot.  The death convulsions started, something I recognized from my experience with Hero.  If you've ever seen them, you know that they are heartbreaking.  Death often does not come peacefully, like in the movies, much as we wish for that outcome.  And, like anyone watching a loved one in pain, it broke my heart.  I gave him more pain medication, knowing full well what it would do at this point.  It would take less than a minute to slow his breathing and make him relax and then his spirit would leave his body.  He wouldn't be in pain any more.

Our Nicky, our little Chunky Monkey, died at 11:36AM on Thursday, March 1.

It has been several days and now I can get through the day, I can think about him, and only choke a bit.  I am not drowning in tears and sobs and sorrow, but my heart is still heavy.  It's really hard to deal with so many conflicting emotions. On the one hand, of course I am relieved that he is gone, he is no longer in pain.  But the other hand misses him so much and even with four other furry babies the house feels so empty.

This is the tribute video that I made for my little boy.  Out of all the songs I sang to him, this was our favorite.  I don't listen to country music much now, but when I looked at this boy I knew immediately what my heart wanted to tell him.  This song was the best way to express it.

Still hanging on

It's been a while since I've written about Nicky, so I wanted to give an update on his condition.  He's still hanging on!  It's been a couple weeks and he's still with us, even though the vet thought he wouldn't last more than a day or two.

I think that this success can be attributed to several things -- his own willpower and desire to stay, the love and attention and care he receives, and to acupuncture.  The vet was impressed when we went in for a check-up last Friday -- Nicky was a full pound heavier than he was two weeks ago -- and said that she will be recommending acupuncture to pet owners who, like me, were desperate and have pets who don't seem to respond to traditional treatments.

A number of people have told me that they have "learned so much about love" (or something along those lines) through watching me with Nicky.  This is a bit confusing for me, and I think it's more than my typical embarrassment from receiving a compliment.  I honestly don't know what I could possibly teach or demonstrate in this area that is any different than anyone else.  After all, I believe that we all struggle when we see our babies -- human or furry -- in pain, we all put forth extra effort and love and care to try to heal them, and when we realize that we have to face a fatal diagnosis we struggle with the question of quality of life and longevity.

I am thrilled that Nicky is still here. Even though every day has an element of the Waiting Game within it, I think that now, through the extension of life that we've received (however temporary it may be), we are all at peace with the inevitable.

Slow and Steady

Nicky is still with us.  For now.  This week has been very long and I am nothing short of exhausted, but I am thankful to have the time with my Chunky Monkey, even though we don't know how much time that may be. (For background to this story, read this post.)

Nicky at home after the vet, 1/25/12

Yesterday morning, the vet called and said we were living on borrowed time. I could drive out there, pick him up and bring him home, but I should not expect more than a day or two or three at most. And of course there's that pesky question about whether or not we should help him on his way. It is, I believe, one of the hardest decisions one can make. Sometimes the pet is in obvious pain and misery; then, of course, the humane thing to do is to help.  But what if the pet is like Nicky -- or Hero before him -- and seems peaceful and pain-free, just quietly resigned to their fate? That is far more difficult.

I picked up The Teenager, who thankfully did not have school yesterday, and took him with me on the two-hour round trip to the vet. You see, he's grouchy and antagonistic and claims to "hate all humans" but has the largest heart for cats. All cats.  And Nicky is his favorite.  The car ride was more peaceful because The Teenager was with us.  He held Nicky, giving him love and affection the whole ride home, making a cat who normally comes unglued in the car fairly peaceful.  It was a blessing.

Nicky at home after the vet, 1/25/12

The Teenager had to return to a study group, so I stayed at home with Nicky for a few hours before our next long car-ride -- a 2.5 hour round trip to see a friend of mine who is an acupuncturist.  I knew that if there was a way to get Nicky's organs to open up, this friend would find it. She would also know if he was in pain or if he was calm and ready to leave.  She is amazing, a true emotional life-saver, and a blessing to the planet. I am not exaggerating!) During the session we discovered that he was calm, accepting of whatever was happening, and that his urethrea was blocked, causing his bladder and kidneys to shut down.  She showed me how to perform kitty massage in an attempt to encourage things to start working, knowing that it could be a long shot.  Nicky loved it.  Every time I give him a kitty massage (and it's been frequently in these past 24 hours!) he purrs and rolls on his back.

More than the help this friend gave Nicky was the help that she gave me.  She and another woman, the other member of our writing group, gave me comfort and love and an outlet for my sorrows so that by the time Nicky and I were back in the car I could sing to him without my voice cracking.  These women are angels here on earth.

Nicky sleeping, 1/25/12

Nicky's breathing was shallow as the evening progressed and I expected him to pass during the night, which is why I was awake for most of the night watching over him. Honey was worried that Nicky was in pain and thought I should make the call to the vet to bring an end to things.  As if in response, Nicky stood up, walked across the bed, curled at Honey's feet and started purring. To me that was an "I'm okay for now" sign.

In the morning, when I expected the worst, Nicky woke up, cleaned himself, purred a bit, jumped off the bed and headed downstairs to eat (only a bite or two) and potty (just a bit). It was a miracle!  I started dancing, but Honey reminded me not to get my hopes up too high.

Sure enough, like a television drama where a fever patient has a seeming break in symptoms before everything hits again, I observed a relapse.  Nicky is sleeping, for now, on the bed.  He enjoys kitty massage and being the center of Mommy's world right now.  He is peaceful and seems to be pain-free.  And for now, that is enough.

Living on Borrowed Time

The vet just called about Nicky. Like I said yesterday, I expected this call but that doesn't mean I'm prepared to handle it.  He's not expelling toxins, so we're living on borrowed time. I'm driving out now to bring him home and hope for a day, or two, or three. Whatever I can just. Just a bit more time before we have to face the inevitable.

I will take him to a friend today for acupuncture.  It's another long, three hour, car trip.  He won't be happy about it.  But perhaps it will help give him some relief and that would be a salve for my heart -- something that won't heal its brokenness, but will be a temporary comfort.

Sometimes a Case of The Mondays Does Not End Well (A Tale of Cats and True Love)

I am a Crazy Cat Lady.  There. I said it.  It's true.  At least that's what some people think, I'm sure.  We have four cats -- Canvas (10), Bunny (3), and a sibling pair, Nicky and Nora (2) -- plus our dog, Lotus (7), and Paloma the Betta Fish (who knows?).

Nicky and Canvas

Nora and Lotus

Paloma

Bunny the Parrot Cat

I love my furry babies.  And yes, I consider them my babies: I sleep lightly and listen for their cries, I feed them better than I feed myself, I take a million pictures of them because I think they're the world's most adorable babies.  I give them love and discipline and trips to the vet or chiropractor and keep a mental log of the funny things they say (yes, I have very verbal pets) and do and I'm always watching for signs of illness.  The latter stems from my paranoia over losing any of them.

When Hero, our older cat, died a little over two years ago, I was devastated.

Hero and Honey sometime during summer 2009

For a woman who doesn't always seem to be as prone to crying as television and movies would have one believe about the "fairer sex," I was a wreck -- sobbing and staying in a darkened room for the weekend.  Three things got me through that time: Bunny, Nicky, and Nora.

Hero was diagnosed with kidney failure in the beginning of 2009.  I knew that I would want to get another cat once she was gone, but I was (for the most part) content with waiting to find that new cat. Content, that is, until Megan, the wife of a former student, let me know that the emaciated stray cat she took in was actually pregnant. And then she gave birth to kittens. And two were manx.

The manx breed is my favorite, probably because of Hero.  Sometimes they're called dog-cats or man's-cats because they seem to be very pack-oriented. They are loving and verbal and generally smaller than most other cats.  Oh, and they have odd tails (or, in the case of Hero, no tail).  When I saw the two black manx kitties they were just three days old. How could I say no?  Honey agreed after a day or two, a bit hesitant about bringing in two kittens when we already had two cats, but they were manx and we knew we loved that personality.  We agreed to pick up the kittens when they were 12 weeks old (so they had plenty of time with Mom and Siblings to learn manners), I would drive them immediately to get spayed and vaccinated and then bring them home.  Hero would be tolerant, Canvas would hide (as usual), and the pain in my heart would be eased ever so slightly when Hero left.

Visiting the kitties when they were around five weeks old

The best laid plans...as they say.  The kittens started to get sick, probably something from their mother.  And Hero got worse and worse until one night I heard her call (like I said, I'm a light sleeper) and woke to find her struggling to move in the kitchen. I picked her up, held her, cried, and by the time dawn arrived she was gone. Sometimes I think that she knew it was time and that others needed me -- after all, I couldn't bring sick kittens into the house while I had a dying cat; I didn't want her immune system compromised. With the passing of Hero I contacted Megan, who said that the kittens were on a course of treatment from the vet. They were still young, just under ten weeks, and so I was content to have them wait and finish the treatment in the hopes that they would get better.

Meanwhile, on craigslist, I saw a post for a year-old cat from the animal shelter. She had been adopted and then returned, which is usually a death-sentence, but some employees wanted to give her another chance.  She had two weeks.  When I saw her face, I fell in love.  But we already had two kittens on the way!  Could I get Honey, the person who never had pets indoors until me, the person who said "One is enough" and then "Two is more than enough" and then "Two plus a dog is it" to agree to all these extras?  It was starting to sound a bit crazy even for me, but I blame my grief -- and the fact that Bunny's personality shone through her craigslist picture. Honey saw it immediately, too, and said "Well, if you meet her and she seems like she'd fit, then okay."  I called, met her, loved her, and took her home as soon as she received a clean bill of health from the shelter.  She was -- and is -- perfect.

As Bunny settled in, I waited for word on the kitties.  Unfortunately, the kittens were not getting better and Megan was becoming exhausted from caring for five sick kittens plus a cranky mommy cat and her own confused male cat who wondered what all the commotion was about in this tiny one-bedroom apartment.  I picked up Nicky and Nora (named after our favorite detectives -- because the kitties are black and white like the 1930s and 40s films) and took them straight to the vet.

We came away with medicine and a strict quarantine. I placed the kittens in the bathroom downstairs, made them warm and comfortable, and visited as often as I could for loves and to deliver medicine.  It was an exhausting process made even more so by the need to keep a routine as close to a hospital clean room as I could manage so that the illness didn't spread to the other pets.  Cover in smock. Enter room. Love pets. Leave room. Remove smock and place in washer. Scrub hands. Resume normal life. Repeat multiple times a day.

They just weren't getting better and after two weeks I was exhausted. I took them to the vet, who kept them over the weekend for treatment and monitoring. After two nights of rest, I was ready to tackle the issue again -- which was good because the vet said that there was no improvement, but the kittens seemed to be social.  Perhaps they just needed more love?

I knew the solution -- although I didn't tell the vet's office.

A kitty sling!  I could give them the love and attention they needed, go about my business, keep them away from the other pets (at least far away enough), and they would get better.

Sure enough, it worked. By the end of the week they were almost completely back to normal. Nicky always had a bit of a wonky eye (both almost lost their eyesight), but other than that they were fine.  They gained weight and pretty soon were up to 2.5 pounds, big enough to get them fixed.  Life was grand once again and the kittens fit into the household.

They played with Lotus.

And napped with Lotus.

Nicky even tried to nurse with Lotus.

They cuddled with Bunny, left Canvas alone, and every day I could walk into the kitchen and find a pile 'o kitties made even more adorable by the way they seemed to blend together.

As any other concerned and proactive parent would do, I researched vaccinations (deciding on minimal vaccines because they are indoor cats), found the best, holistic pet food, and gave them lots of play time and love.

We had one issue -- Nicky managed to knock Honey's stereo system off the desk (how??) and get tangled in the cords, which meant that he pulled his back legs out of the sockets trying to escape.  I took him to the chiropractor (she's amazing!) and within an hour he was fine.  Other than that, no issues.

Okay, they maybe, occasionally, stalk Canvas.

Nora is "my black fox."  She has fox-like features, she's fast and feisty.  She's also vocal.  And she wants to be the center of the world for everyone.  If I'm giving another pet attention, she'll push her way over to join.

If Bunny is on the couch, Nora snuggles up.

 If Lotus is sleeping, Nora will join her.

Nicky is my "chunky monkey." He's always been content to find a spot and sleep.  Sure, he's active if he finds a bug, hears a bird, or notices I've walked into the bathroom (he careens in and then flops over on the rug with a little "Pet my belly!" meow. Don't ask me why. But he does it. Every. Single. Time.).  Other than that, you can find him in a comfortable place, content to purr and give loves whenever someone joins him.  At night, he becomes very vocal. "Meow-row-row-row" he says, which I take to mean "Mom, where are you? Come get me!" I hop out of bed, find him in the bathroom (always), and put him on the pillow next to my head. In the morning when I wake up, he's still there, sleeping.

At the start of the new year, I decided that Nicky Chunky Monkey and Bunny-Bunny Fat Cat were taking after their parents a bit too much -- we could all use a bit of a slim down.  Everyone went on a bit more of a monitored food intake system and the results seemed to be positive for all concerned.  Bunny's still a bit of a fatty, but she's slimming, and Nicky seemed to slim down very quickly.

Too quickly, I realized several days ago.  As of January 13, I could pick him up, notice he didn't have much of a belly left, but not be too worried.  After all, Bunny gains/loses weight quickly, and Lotus has her weight fluctuate as much as three pounds in three days depending on her activity level and if anyone is indulging her with too many treats.

By January 18, Nicky was looking a bit too thin for my liking.  Then on January 19 our basement was flooded and I spent the next two days cleaning up that mess.  By Saturday, January 21, I picked up Nicky and panicked.  He was so bony!  What happened?

I called the vet (closed by this time) to see about getting an appointment first thing in the week.  And then I waited and watched, and watched and waited.

Sunday I knew that he wasn't eating.  That afternoon I realized he was sitting by his water dish but not drinking, much like Hero did in her final month.  I researched things online, praying it wasn't what I feared: CRF. Chronic Renal Failure.  Or, because of the seemingly sudden onset, Acute Renal Failure.  Highly unusual in a two year old cat!  But the symptoms fit, and , like I said, I'd seen this before.

Sunday evening Nicky seemed to perk up a bit.  He drank some water, tried to eat (although he was not successful), and moved around a bit.  I called the vet on Monday, not waiting for a return call from my panicked weekend message, and they were able to see me immediately.

It's a two-hour round trip to our vet, but it's worth it -- that's how good they are.  And I never worried here, like I did elsewhere, that they'll try to make up tests or expensive procedures.  They did a blood test, as I knew they would, and it came back as I feared: little or no kidney function.

I left Nicky there for fluids (to flush toxins) and observation.  It was the first time he was ever apart from Nora.  I tried to hold it together all day, but at night when I didn't hear his little voice I cried and cried and cried.

Today I waited.  The first news was good: after some fluids he seemed to perk up. He was sitting up, talking with everyone as they passed, and even ate a bit of food.  The latest news, however, was not good.  He still had not peed, even with several IVs of fluid, meaning that his body was holding all the toxins with no way to flush them out of his system because his kidneys were not working at all.

The vet is keeping him another night. They will try a medication to see about kick-starting his kidneys and then they'll give more fluids and once he is able to use the bathroom they will re-test the toxin levels in his blood.  If he is able to use the bathroom.  If not...well, that's the phone call I'm worried about.  And I expect to hear in the morning.

I expected my babies would be happy and healthy and full of life for at least 20 years.  After two years, it just feels like I've been cheated.  I haven't been able to focus and get much work done because all I really want to do is curl up and hide and hope that this is just a bad dream.  It would not be true to say that I can't imagine life without Nicky (or any of the others).  I can.  It's just that I don't want to.

Random Ramblings

Honey has the camera this week just in case Austin, Texas, provides an opportunity for some good pictures.  (Can we say "More inspirational greeting cards!"? I knew we could! :-)  It is, perhaps, a good thing that the camera is gone because it means that I can't get too sidetracked by finding new projects to do when I should be working.  It does, however, mean that I can't post my own photos as I blog.

I thought about forgoing blogging for the week, but then a better idea surfaced.  Why not just talk about a few things I like?  Maybe find some matching pictures?  Yeah.  That's a good idea.

The feeling of nostalgia struck me again this evening when I was putting a few things away.  I saw a picture of me and Honey from ten years ago -- our engagement picture.  Has it really been that long?  Sometimes it's hard to imagine a whole decade has passed (or just about -- June will be the official engagementversary).  For the first six years or so we did not spent a single night apart.  Then a marketing position called, complete with travel, and we got used to spending time apart.  We also got a dog.

Lotus made the house seem less empty, something our herd of cats didn't quite do (even though I love them with all my heart).

I miss my Honey when we're apart.  We often joke that we're Nick & Nora Charles.

I do believe that this gin-swilling, crime-fighting duo was actually me and Honey in a previous (albeit imaginary) past life.  Confession: If we ever attended a costume party, we'd be Nick & Nora. (Yes, Carrie, I know this is no surprise to you! :-)  Since we don't tend to circulate in areas where costume parties are the norm, I am content to just dream.  And decorate our theater room in Nick & Nora prints. (<-- That's confession #2.)

We watch The Thin Man (and the other films in this 1930s and 40s detective series) several times a year.  That's pretty incredible for a couple who doesn't really watch films at all!  We just love this story and the way the couple interacts.  It doesn't matter how many times I've seen The Thin Man, watching it again...and again...and again...makes me happy.  That is why when I first met my two youngest furry babies, I knew what their names would be: Nick & Nora.

What better name for two adorable black and white kitties, right?  (I have other furry babies, too, but let's focus on this story today.)  And now every time I see them I am reminded of the film that Honey and I adore, something that makes us happy.  (Yes, I'm aware that's a bit obsessive.)

There is one other film that brings nearly the same enjoyment: the 1956 classic The Court Jester.

It took years for me to convince Honey to watch it.  Perhaps that was because I compared it to The Princess Bride and said that in my mind the two movies were quite similar because they were cheesy and poked fun at other films and were very funny and fun to watch.  Honey did not originally like The Princess Bride (that has changed now, but it was a long battle!) and so the idea of an old musical that could be similar was not initially appealing.

That resistance seems so long ago now.  Honey loves this movie and sometimes suggests it to me because I love it, too.  In fact, it's a film that my whole family loves.  That is one of the reasons why when a number of the siblings decided to get similar or matching tattoos, we decided on the Purple Pimpernel.  (Watch the movie!)

I do love tattoos, although I only have a few (including tattooed eyeliner -- best tattoo ever!).  My latest was a lotus flower:

We chose it for its symbolism, but it is also special to me because it reminds me of the best dog in the whole world.

Can't have too many pictures of adorable babies, right?

Now I am considering my next tattoo.  I keep thinking that I can't just have something for my dog and nothing for my cats.  So I am thinking that I should perhaps get a tiny paw print on my chest, over my heart.  We shall see.  But I feel it's time for a little more ink.  Maybe that's the way I'll celebrate when I'm finally done with this dissertation.

Christmas or Valentine's Day?

I don't believe in Valentine's Day. It always seemed like such a made-up holiday, at least the Valentine's Day that Americans know and love. Instead of seeing hearts and winged Cupids and hearing love songs, the history teacher in me thinks about the religious observance of St. Valentine's Day (even though the Roman Catholic Church removed its observance from the calendar of saints in the 1960s).  Who was St. Valentine? I'm not sure anyone really knows, since it seems that there were several early Christian martyrs who shared the name Valentine and it had nothing whatsoever to do with romantic love.  Who wants to get all lovey-dovey on a holiday based on martyrs?  If that were the case, in my mind's eye Fake Me and Fake Honey would end up with a conversation like this:

My dear, my love for you is as permanent as death.
Oh Honey, I bought you these red roses to symbolize my love...and the blood of martyrs.
May our passion be as spirited as the angry mobs who are responsible for the death of saints!

Not really my thing. And so I avoid Valentine's Day.

"But wait!" the English teacher in me screams. "Celebrating romantic love on Valentine's Day is still somewhat historical. After all, it was Geoffrey Chaucer in the 1300s who first wrote about Valentine's Day in connection to love."  True, English Teacher Me.  Score one point for you. (Even though History Teacher Me will point out that Chaucer was probably referring to Valentine's Day in the liturgical calendar, celebrated on May 2. But we'll just leave that aside for now.)

It is interesting how cultures around the world have adopted certain Valentine's Day traditions over the past few hundred years. But I will stick with my antivalentinism, my refusal to be told when Honey and I must commercialize our undying love and affection for one another.

My addictions to crafts and good deals, however, is unchanging. When in Joann's Fabrics the other day I saw Christmas items on 90% off clearance.  The white silk poinsettias and the red glass balls inspired me: what if I made one teensy-weensy concession to the dreaded St. V-Day  and put up the tiniest of decorations?  I rushed home and threw my idea together. 

The only problem?  Honey walked out and said "It's January. Christmas is over."  So I put it to you: is this Christmas or Valentine's Day?  Be honest...you won't hurt my feelings either way.

Furry babies and other things that I love (an incomplete list)

There are many things that I love, or, if love is too strong a word, perhaps I should just say that there are many things that I like, things that make me happy. Yet my philosophy about lists tells me that I may try to list all of these things but the list will never be complete because no list is ever complete. (Trust me on this one or try it yourself. Write down all of the chores you need to do around the house. You may think that you have everything listed, but give yourself an hour or two or three and you'll find that you keep coming back to the list and adding to it, even though you know that there is no way you'll ever accomplish everything on that list.) So here is a partial list -- with pictures -- of some things that I love. It's nice to focus on the positive, don't you think?

Vietnam (or travel in general).

Of course travel to beautiful destinations means that I miss seeing what I love most in the world, my fury babies:

When I am at home, my furry doggy baby, Lotus, comes with me just about everywhere, even when it means she'll have to sit under an apple tree while Mommy spends hours picking fruit. Of course I'll share some apples with Lotus. She thinks that they are treats and she's right, I just happen to prefer my apples in liquid hard cider form.

Asian pears are perhaps the best fruit ever: sweet and crunchy.

In the summer I have hops growing around the pillars on my front step. Not only are they beautiful and green, they grow so quickly! When the conditions are right -- plenty of sun and water -- they can grow several inches in a day and they wind themselves around the pillars (and anything else that happens to get in their way). It's amazing to watch. Hops also have another purpose: beer.

I love flowers, but I don't like all the work of annuals. Who wants to have to plant something every single year? This photo, however, shows that I will make an exception now and then. Sometimes these flowers, too, will make an exception to their annual rule and surprise me by coming back the next spring. I don't mind.

When it's sunny (which sometimes seems like a rarity here), I find my furry kitty babies, Nick and Nora (think Hammett, not Hollywood), looking like adorable cats curled up together in the sunlight.

Sometimes the furry babies can cause some good-natured frustration, like when I see berries growing in the yard and rush inside to find a bowl for harvest only to return and discover that Lotus, too, loves berries and didn't need a bowl.

A day of running after squirrels or sleeping in sunbeams can be exhausting. And few things in life are cuter than pictures of a dog and kittens sleeping together.

It's because my babies are so cute and I love being around them that I am happy to get a snow day or two in the winter...just not enough snow to keep us cooped up for weeks on end.

When it is cold and snowy and I have a miraculously free day, sometimes I like to spend it studying history or reading a good historical novel. (I really wanted a snow day earlier this week so that I could finish reading my current novel, Douglass's Women.)

Snow days and being stuck inside for a day or two is very nice, but I do love long walks to see beautiful neighborhoods -- exercise for my body and soul.

Occasionally the walks can inspire the desire to create art in some form, usually using spray paint.

Or sometimes the walks will make me dream that I am on a plane flying somewhere fun.

However, sometimes seeing all the other gardens of my fellow neighbors on my walk reminds me that I have my own work to do. It's not always pleasant, but I do enjoy growing food because this leads to two of my favorite activities: cooking and eating.

If we had more space, we'd probably plant our own grapes and that way Honey could make wine without always having to travel to The Gorge to buy a few tons here and there.

Perhaps it's best that we don't have to tend vineyards and gardens that are that large. It gives me more time at home to admire my beautiful furry babies. And few things in life are better than curling up with a pile of cute furriness.