Kitty Yoga

I am a cat lady.  I'm sure I've mentioned that before.  I currently have 3 indoor cats: Grimmy, Cal, and Bast.

There is a litterbox in the hallway outside my bedroom.  It is the *only* litterbox of 4 in the house that is smell-able from the bedroom, but it is necessary because it is the only good spot on that whole side of the house in which to place a litterbox.  And it is used heavily.  So yeah.

Anyways, this morning I was doing yoga and I heard someone get in the box.

I was all, "Please don't poop, please don't poop."

So what does the cat do?

Laid a big giant stinky log.  The offender was Grimmy, since he ran in looking all freaked out right after and tried to break down the closet door to hide, presumably from his own stink.

I thought on it long and hard, and decided to tough out the stink instead of getting up and covering the offering.

I continued on.  It was a good yoga morning.  I was feeling calm and the stretching was feeling really good.  I had just gotten into 4 Legged Table when Cal, the most ginormous of my kitties, decided that'd be a good time to come headbutt me in hopes of a full body rub.  Let's just say: precarious balance + giant kitty headbutt = 3 Legged Table.  Yeah.

He eventually wandered off when he realized no lovin was forthcoming, and I continued on.  As I got near the end, I thought, you know, Grimmy and Cal have both bugged me this morning, wouldn't it be funny if Bast made an appearance before this session is over?

Think and you shall receive.

The last pose in my video is Corpse pose.  As I was lying there, feeling my body turn to sand, I felt a kitty mount my belly and start kneading me, complete with claws!

Baby Bast had the last laugh.

And I'm closing the door next time!

The Most Expensive Cat IN THE WORLD

Thursday morning when I was feeding the Z, I saw Grimmy squat like he was peeing over by her diapers.  Since he has been "inappropriately eliminating" for over a year now, this didn't surprise me, but I was surprised because a. he normally does his business on the kitchen, not the bedroom, floor, and b. he normally does his business in private.  I yelled at him and he stopped, but there was no pee there.  Then I saw what looked like the same thing over by the chest, and then again on P's jeans, and then again INSIDE the box of Z wipe refills.  Once Z's bottle was done I checked all 3 locations and none were wet.

A long time ago a friend had a kitty who almost died due to a bladder obstruction, and I remembered her saying that the warning sign was that he was squatting and not peeing.  I passingly wondered if I needed to be worried and take him to the vet.  I decided not to because I had missed work the day before for my pointless boob appointment.

When I got home that evening, I didn't see Grimmy til after Z went to sleep.  P called me over and said he looked sick.  I found him prone in the closet, breathing rapidly.  He hardly lifted his head when I approached.  I sat on the floor and petted him and he barely responded.  I had an overwhelming feeling that he was dying.  Then P and I debated whether I was over-reacting: did he need to go to an emergency vet right now, or could he wait for morning?  I really felt like he couldn't wait, so P got him loaded (still not without a fight, that's my Grimmy!) into the cat carrier and off I went.

I was right: blocked urethra.  Arg, how I wish I had taken him that morning!!  It was an expensive and stupid mistake.

They took him for the procedure, and I headed home.  Got a call around 2am that he had complications: she was suspecting some sort of mass or something, and she was only able to get a hard catheter in after 1.5 hours of trying.  She recommended that I take him to a cat vet the next day for the soft catheter that he needed for several days.

Now, let's stop right there.  I set a price limit for myself before I went to the e-vet.  Their quote was higher than that limit, but not by much, which is why I left him for the procedure and didn't ask them to put him down.  Don't get me wrong.  I love this cat like no other cat I've ever owned.  But he has spent the last year peeing/pooping on my kitchen floor.  And I'm a city girl with a country heart.  I am going to outlive all my cats except the one that I get when I'm like 90.  Cats die.  One does not spend thousands of dollars saving the short life of an animal.  It's just how I was raised.  So when the vet's quote exceeded my self-imposed limit, I'll admit that I hesitated, but not for too long, because it didn't exceed it by much, and it was a totally treatable condition, and for goodness' sake, he's only 7 years old.  I could love him for another decade easily!  It just seemed like I shouldn't let him die from this, right now.

But when she called to say there were complications, ooooh crap, maybe I made the wrong choice. But at that point I was in it for the long haul (within reason).  It would be like flushing all the money I spent that night down the toilet to say if I didn't see it through!

So Grimmy went to the cat-specific vet.  Where they said that he didn't have a tumor or a block or anything, just a very tiny urethra.  Good to know.  They quoted me the same amount as the e-vet to REDO the procedure with the proper catheter.  Piss (literally).  Now I'm in it for just over double what I originally authorized myself to spend.

And he needed to stay at the vet for monitoring.  I'm sure that'll be more money.

The most expensive cat in the world.  Behold the Grimmy at the vet in his fashionable accoutrement.

He'll be coming home in his 300 snow-white horse-drawn diamond-crusted carriage this evening.  Perhaps if I get him a marble litterbox he'll deign to use it instead of the floor?

Week 30 Pics

Guest room is done, moving in furniture!

And we got a new camera lens! 2 kitty pics.

The bump.

Boo, Preston!

Here I am, awake early on a Saturday morning, wanting to edit and upload photos. So why am I not, you ask? Preston's computer can't see Preston's Z drive where all the photos are stored. Booooo Preston!

I did edit 2 cuties uploaded from his phone, though. Kitties playing in Judtona's maternity clothes boxes with Preston. So at least there's that.

Why I Run

This morning as I was running along in my neighborhood, I saw a cat in the middle of the street sniffing a road-kill squirrel.

Then the cat saw me.

It promptly picked up the squirrel, which was at least half its size, and carried it up into some (poor) people's yard.

Protecting its find from me, I suppose.

Seven Things About Grimmy and Cal

I heart my kitties, so when I saw Jess's example, I had to follow suit.

1. Grimmy and Cal are littermates. They look alike in their fluffiness and build, but not their coloring.

2. Grimmy and Cal are nicknames. Other nicknames that they're known to go by include: Coofy, Squishy, BFP (stands for Big Fat Poof), Poof, Poofy, Poofity, Calli-poofity, Calli-poof, Poofer, and Limikus-poofity. Grimmy has fewer nicknames than Cal. Cal just seems to inspire nicknames/variations.

3. Both cats actually respond to all their nicknames.

4. Poofy lurves him some human clothes to lay in/on. He can be totally zonked out on the bed, and you put something down on it, and when you turn back around, he'll be totally zonked out on it. Even if your back was only turned for a second.

5. Grimmy thinks I'm his mom. Soon after we brought him home, he developed an interesting habit of sucking on my hair. Eventually this turned to sucking his own arm while kneading my hair. And when he was almost 3 he finally migrated to just the kneading with some occasional lip smacking. He "sucks" every day at least twice: before I get out of bed, and right after I get in bed.

6. The kitties have three biggest fears: people who aren't Preston or me (read: doorbell ringing and knocking), the vacuum cleaner, and anything that sounds like hissing (read: letting air out of bike tires, keyboard air cleaners, people blowing on food to cool it off, etc.). For any one of these things they'll haul ass to their special hidey hole in my bathroom. And I mean haul ass. Don't be in their way.

7. Poofy likes to drink out of the bathroom sink. I think he learned it from Sugar. Every morning he runs into the bathroom ahead of me, and jumps up and into the sink, tilting his head sideways and waiting for the water to flow. His tounge splashes water all over as he licks it out of mid-air. Sometimes Grimmy will join him and they'll jostle for space at the sink. Other times Grimmy goes straight to his preferred water source: the master toilet. Don't ask me why this toilet and no others. It must taste better... I do provide them with one of those flowing filtered nice cat water bowl thingies. Seriously!

Btw, been out of town on business. Did my first brick last weekend (6 miles bike with 4 mile run), and another this past weekend (10 miles bike with 4 mile run/walk). I can totally be ready for CBI in May. Totally.

Funny Kitty Shit

So, two mornings ago, I got out of the shower and I was standing on my dot (that is what we call the bathmats in the master bath because they are round) drying off when Cal came into the bathroom and sat down on my foot. I started giggling and talking to him about what a goofball I thought he was because my foot was wet and he should therefore be avoiding it. When he got up and walked away, there was shit on my big toe.

This morning as I was getting dressed, Grimmy, his brother, was interested by the toilet. He's been interested by the toilet quite a bit lately, actually, but today he just couldn't contain his enthusiasm any longer, and he jumped in. In the toilet. Seriously. And immediately jumped out. Water went everywhere and I laughed my ass off.

Rest in Kitty Peace, Sugar

When I woke up yesterday morning, I had 3 cats. One may have been old and her ass may have been drunk, but she was there, and she was doing fine. By the end of the day she was gone and buried.

Sugar was a small (7lbish) siamese mix cat. She died near her 17th birthday. She was a Christmas present to me in 1990. Best Christmas present ever. I remember that Mom and Dad and I went out to this lady's house (who I forever after nicknamed The Cat Lady). She had tons of cats. She brought out this one tiny little siamese kitten and asked if we wouldn't mind taking this specific one, because she was the runt. We took her. I remember her getting all carsick on the way home - nastiness coming out of both ends, and how we joked about how much nasty smelling stuff could possibly come out of such a tiny cute little kitten. She quickly discovered that her favorite spot was curled up just below my right ear once we got home, and she purred like a motorboat. The white parts of her siamese-ness were so pure white that my 9-year-old self named her Sugar. She was polydactyl, meaning that she had an extra toe on each of her front paws, so we called her Sugar Mittens. She also loved laying in front of the fire. Soon enough she discovered that older people are stiller and quieter than young ones, and attached herself to my Mom. When she was about 3 years old, she got out of the house and was gone for about 2 weeks. It must have been Spring or Fall, because we were sleeping with the windows open and Dad woke up in the middle of the night to hear her crying. He followed the sound down the street and found her in front of the elementary school. He brought her home. She must have been drinking out of people's hoses, because after that she always preferred to drink her water dripping out of the sink. It really wasn't surprising that she could wake Dad up with her cry in the middle of the night, because boy, did that cat ever have a set of lungs. I once had an apartment neighbor tell me that she always knew when I left town for the weekend because she heard the cat crying. Sugar followed me to college at the end of my junior year when my roommate had moved out. That is when I will tell you that she saved my life, just by being there and being dependent on me. I actually told Mom that I'd only take her on a trial basis, because I knew she was more Mom's cat than mine, and I thought she'd be really happier with Mom. But she adjusted well, and even seemed to become attached to me, and we lived 5 years together happily after that. She was never an overly friendly cat, to the point that Preston and I nicknamed her "Old Biddy" in the past year or so, but she and I had an understanding. I would provide the food, water, and petting when she arrived on my lap, and she would arrive on my lap at least once per day. That was our arrangement, and it worked for us. She'd even show up specifically at times when I was stressed out, as if she knew that a purring kitty was just what I needed. I'll never forget how much she helped me in that way one miserable junior high piano recital day. We've had a couple of scares in recent years. In 2004 when I was in Denton, she was facing off with another cat on the other side of the window when she became entangled in the pull cord for the blinds and practically hung herself from her abdomen. I rescued her, but not before she sunk her teeth into my wrist in fear. That little puncture wound got terrible infected, one of the most painful happenings in my life, but I was just so glad that Sugar was unharmed. More recently, back in January when her ass got wobbly, I thought we were near the end. But she coped with her wobbliness really very well - so well that I was really quite startled when I found her paralyzed yesterday. And even more recently she escaped for a final time while I was away getting married. I though surely I'd lost her for good and was wracked with guilt, but 4 days later Preston found her a mere 5 houses down the street, seemingly no worse for wear. She lived in 7 places. Had 5 seperate kitty companions, all of which she tolerated and hated equally. I will miss her terribly. I'll miss her yowling every night when Preston and I are trying to watch tv. I'll miss having to lead into the house with my foot because she's trying to escape as usual past any unwitting human coming into the house. Most of all I'll miss getting out of the shower and laying down on the bed and having her arrive for her attention without fail, because she loved clean humans. I'll miss her crawling up me and sticking her nose against my lips for me to blow gently on, and I'll miss the motorboat purring that never ran out of gas.

I may not believe in God or heaven for myself, but I hope that there is a kitty heaven, and I hope she is outdoors in it where she always wanted to be, playing like she was young and napping in sunny spots, and finding someone's lap to purr in and be petted in, but only when she wants to. She was a good cat. We had an understanding. I loved her, and I will miss her.

Twisty-tie Pwnage

This morning, Preston and I watched as Cal, the big black cat, lay quitely next to the twisty-tie that he had been attacking earlier.

Suddenly, his brother Grimmy comes flying around the corner, makes a stealth attack on Cal, and withdraws.

Cal sits there looking confused for a second, then smacks the twisty-tie emphatically and calmly walks off.

I look at Preston, "Cal really is your son."
P: "Why do you say that?"
Me: "Because he killed the twisty-tie when he was really mad at his brother."
P: "Maybe he was just showing Grimmy what he would like to do to him."
Me: "I'll pwn you like I pwned this twisty-tie, bitch."
P: "Uber-pwnage."

The Mystery of the Missing Sugar - Solved

Preston found Sugar on Sunday. Under some bushes at the end of the cul-de-sac. We had already been by there 3 or 4 times in our looking, but apparently you had to be going to these people's door (which Preston was - to give them a flyer for our lost cat) in order to see her.

Thank goodness. She went straight for the food and is allowing people to pick her up, but otherwise seems to be fine.

Mystery of the Missing Sugar

Well I'm back. And Sugar is missing.

Why can nothing go without a hitch??

Apparently she disappeared between 9pmish when the cat/house-sitter was over and 11pm when we arrived home on Wednesday. Seriously. Cat is here the whole time I'm gone. Then she disappears just as I'm arriving.

And I couldn't get hold of the house-sitter. So I thought maybe she had died. (I was actually looking for graves in the backyard.) Maybe they had taken her to their house because she got worse. Maybe she was at the vet. (I actually called them.) When I *finally* get hold of the house-sitter on FRIDAY, TWO DAYS after I got home it was just that she was there when they were here Weds. And now she's not. And I lost two days searching because of those fuckheads.

They say they're sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left my babies with idiots. They say they feel guilty. I'll literally live with the guilt forever if I never see the old sick cat that I've had since I was nine because I left her with fucking morons.

And it hasn't stopped raining since we got home.

Anyways, I'm married now. The cat-searching expeditions are my extended honeymoon. Not that I'm bitter. Big Bend Blogs to follow.

Cat Hurl and Nightmares

Funny Cat Story:
This morning I hear Sugar jump down from the bed and begin hauking (surely not hawking? - anyways, see Shrek 2 for an example of this cat sound) something up. On Preston's pile of clothes. At least someone else in the house is trying to teach him to use a laundry basket. But I digress. On Preston's shorts, to be precise. Callimachus immediately goes over to investigate. He has been known to "clean" up other cats' transgressions by eating them, and who am I to stop him? So I was happy to see him wander over. But then he uses his paw and rearranges the shorts to COVER the hurl. You know, like it was cat poop instead of yummy warm edible cat hurl. I think maybe he's made a mistake, so I go over and uncover the hurl and point it out to him so he can eat it (I am seriously a HORRIBLE PERSON). And he covers it *again*. Even Cal has standards, who knew? Apparently Sugar's hurl is poop while Grimmy's hurl is the nectar of the gods.

Oh yes, and just for more giggles I had my first wedding nightmare last night (we're just about 2 months out now). I dreamt that we were there at BBNP but for some reason we got married 2 days early. It was totally the ceremony I dreamed of. Just the two of us. But then our families started showing up for the wedding and I was running around trying to figure out if I could get married again so they could see it. And I kept pulling the petals off roses and putting them in a bowl. Weird.

Anyways, ran this morning, my last 28 minute run. Friday starts the 30 minuters. I'll hold at 30 minutes for 4 weeks, ending C25K and beginning One Hour Runner. Thinking about adding some speedwork once a week as part of that. Very tired today.

Please Keep Inflatable Sharks to a Reasonable Size

Concert rules:
1. Keep inflatable sharks to a reasonable size.
2. Beach Balls must be the size of a basketball or smaller.
And my own personal addition:
3. All my margaritas must taste like strawberries.
Seriously.
And for all who would wonder, Minute Maid Park is a great place for a concert, shockingly. It leaves something to be desired acoustically, but makes up for it 100-fold with the view. Seriously. Thinking about buying a parrot. For my head.

Sugar slept with us all night last night. She isn't better. She can't jump on the bed anymore. But at least she isn't mad at me.

Tae Bo this morning. Seriously sweaty. No afternoon antics planned for this week except a bike ride on Wednesday. Trying to take it easy this week. You know, to prevent overtraining. In good news, my hamstrings are all better. And this morning my legs really did feel fresher when I was lunging. Yay!

Hard Time

I didn't run yesterday because I'm still freaking out about Sugar. The most likely thing that is wrong with her is that she has a tumor that is pressing on her spine and causing her to lose control in her rear end. She was really pissed that I took her to the vet. He gave me some stuff to clear up her ear wax, just in case it is a simple solution, but he didn't seem too hopeful that that will work, and neither am I. He wants us back on Thursday for x-rays and blood work. Here is the thing, though. I don't know that I can afford all that, and I don't know that it will help anyways. If it is a tumor and he diagnoses it via x-ray, I am sure that I won't be able to afford the operation to remove it (if that is even possible), so what is the point? She is almost 17 years old. Who am I to attempt to prolong her life with money I don't have, only to have her die in a year or two anyways? Should I just keep her at home until it appears that she is in pain, then take her in to be put to sleep? Because right now she doesn't seem to be in pain. But she also is restricting her normal movements, which makes me thing that she might be in pain. It is so difficult because we think of these animals as human and as part of our family. We wouldn't spare any expense to fix a member of our family, but when it comes right down to it, we as pet owners must always realize that this animal will not outlive us and that they are, in fact, an animal, not a human. If they didn't live with us their life would naturally end probably much earlier than even now. *sigh*

I did feel really guilty about not running yesterday, so I went this morning. 25 minutes without walk breaks, again. No faster than Friday, though. I still think I could push a little harder near the end. I start out feeling really good, then after a mile or so my form starts to break, my neck/shoulders start to cramp up, and the rest is just a slogfest to get through. But at least the good part at the beginning seems to get longer every week.

C'est la vie, right? Gotta take the good with the bad. Gotta let the good try to help me through the bad.

Sugar's Ass is Drunk

And it is freaking me out.

New Rules for Cats

New Rules for My Cats (Specifically Grimmy):

1. Yes the alarm just went off. It is Friday. I don't have to wake up. I will not be available for petting until it is light outside.

2. Being closed for petting means I am also closed for laying upon from the knees up.

3. My very full bladder counts as above my knees.

4. So do my boobs.

5. Fighting with your brother on my bed is also not allowed.

6. Pretending to not be fighting by licking him sweetly every time I look up will still count as fighting.

I swear, if this cat wasn't an Astros (who are currently playing the *weirdest game ever*) fan, I don't know what I'd go with him.


Btw, C25KW6D1 today. At rush hour (in my burby neighborhood). In the rain. Good times.

Kitty Pics

For your viewing pleasure (and mine): this is a baby pic of Cal and Grimmy. Notice the skinny tails and Grimmy's grey-more-than-brownness.

This is Pyrrha, our newest addition, with Preston's hand and Nigel (our snake) and my stationary bike in the background.

And finally, Grimmy, Cal, and Sugar in a rare moment of kitty tolerance (rare at least, for Sugar). Note the gi-mormous inflation of Grimmy and Cal's tails from their baby pic.

More later!

Cat Lady

Whenever I get bored at work and want desperately to go home, I think of my loving kitties. That's what I'm doing right now, so have a look-see. This is Callimachus (black) and Grimalkin (tabby). They'll also respond to Grimmy and Cal, Poofer, Cally-poof, Poofity, Poofy, and Poof. That first nickname if for Grimalkin, the rest are all for Callimachus. Cal is the largest at about 15 pounds, and with all of the beautiful long fluffy hair you can see where the nicknames come from. These two are both male, and littermates. The funniest part is that he actually comes to all of those variations!

Hrm... not sure if that picture upload worked, if not, will try again in a seperate post. I have two more cats, Sugar and Pyrrha (pronounced Peer-uh) but unfortunately don't have any digital pics available on this computer. They are my two females. Sugar is almost 18 years old, a siamese mix, and the cat that once saved my life. She is a bit of an "Old Biddy", but I'll always love her. Pyrrha is our newest addition, a de-clawed stray that showed up in the backyard a few months ago. She is very sweet, but from her mannerisms, I think she may have been abused. She has had a lot of trouble integrating with the other cats, and spends a lot of time hiding.

Anyways, my funny story is about Cal. Every morning when I'm exercising he lays on the bed and watches (if I'm indoors). As soon as I'm to the cool-down, he jumps off the bed and starts meowing up a storm! He knows the part where I'm available for petting. He also knows that very soon I will make my breakfast which includes milk, of which he'll get a little but poured out for him to lap up. He is quite pushy, but in a really sweet kind of way.

Better get back to it, here's to hoping the picture posts!!

Oh, and that achilles thing isn't bothering me at all today, even when I walk now... not sure what was up with all of that, but thank goodness it stopped!