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By Amber, on August 26, 2010, at 10:00 pm Here comes trouble…
I bailed out Her Biteness today. On the way home she tried to get me to stop at an elementary school and let her ‘play’ with some children. When I refused, she tried to convince me that it would be fun to knock over a Petsmart. I told her she would have to find a more appropriate outlet for the things she learned from the other inmates in kitty jail.
She harassed her toys for a while and then curled up in her favorite chair to rest.
At least I think that’s what she’s doing…
 “Leave me alone, human. I need silence while I plot my next deed.”
She may be a criminal, but she’s our little criminal, and we’re glad to have her back.
By Amber, on August 15, 2010, at 8:00 pm I’m playing hooky tomorrow. Here’s why:
 That’s Sweet Pea, the newest member of our household! (You’ll never guess who chose her name.)
 We fell in love with her on Petfinder.com last weekend and tried to bribe the shelter into holding her a week until we could pick her up, but they won’t hold animals. I stayed at work as long as I could stand it on Friday and then headed down to League City to pick her up!
She is gradually acclimating to us and to her new home. She has spent most of her time hiding on a comfortable chair in the dining area. She does not appreciate closed doors — she was pretty sure there was something good in the closet under the stairs:
Sorry kitty, nothing but cleaning supplies and storage.
She is about two years old and seems to be a great cat — playful and affectionate. She spent a while socializing with us this afternoon and seems to be getting much more comfortable, but I think we wore her out, because eventually she headed back to her chair. Tomorrow she’ll get introduced to our vet for her wellness checkup.
By Amber, on April 15, 2010, at 10:47 pm Barring some miracle, Julia seems to be telling us that she is ready to go. We will spend tomorrow saying goodbye, and then our vet (who is fabulous, by the way, in case you ever find yourself in possession of a Houstonian kitty) will make a house call.
I told you a little about Julia before, but indulge me and I’ll tell you more. My sister and I found her at Petsmart over the Thanksgiving holiday of 2002, not long after I’d graduated from college. I was living at my parents’ house in VA but had just accepted a job in NJ. Obviously I was going to need a cat, and when we saw her, we knew she was the one. We called my then-boyfriend and bribed him into agreeing to keep her until I moved into an apartment. I filled out the application and heard back from the sponsoring rescue within a day or two.
I requested that they groom her before I picked her up, and there was some kind of fiasco that kept delaying it. Finally, she was mine!
so skinny!
I think I drove her up to PA that same night, to her temporary home. I visited on weekends until I moved to NJ (my boyfriend thought I was visiting HIM, ha!), and then I brought her over.
My apartment was underneath a man who sold drugs and abused his girlfriend. It was not the best environment for a nervous cat (or her owner), but we kept each other company and she kept me sane. At first, she would wait until I was asleep and then climb up onto my hip. Before long, she would go to bed with me and stay on me or next to me all night.
There were growing pains, though. Julia is a very particular cat. The food and the litter had better be just right, or you will find out that they are not. As much as I loved her, I had some times of serious frustration. I was encouraged by at least a couple people to start over and try again. My aunt, a big pet lover, said that “there are lots of good kitties out there.” But I knew she was a good kitty, we just hadn’t figured each other out completely.
When I bought a townhouse in a quiet neighborhood, she was obviously happier, but some of her issues persisted. I figured things were as good as they were going to get, and learned to work around her. No rugs. No unsupervised bedroom time. I developed the ability to smell fresh cat pee from a different floor of the house (some people have more useful talents, but this one is mine).
Mark is a dog person and was never thrilled about living with my neurotic little cat, but his superior housekeeping skills brought some much-needed order to her life. It was like things clicked. They even developed an appreciation of sorts for one another. When we moved to TX, to a much larger home, the transformation was complete. She became a much more mellow cat, comfortable with rules and even interested in visitors.
I’m sure Mark will never be fully converted to a cat person, but he has come to love her for who she is, and to appreciate what a cat can contribute to a household. He has taken extraordinary care of her (and me) this week, administering subcutaneous fluids and feedings and even a bath (THAT is love, my friends). When she leaves us tomorrow, it will be with all the dignity that a cherished companion deserves, and there will be a considerable void in our home.
 “We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached. Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way. We cherish memory as the only certain immortality, never fully understanding the necessary plan…” -Irving Townsend
By Amber, on April 11, 2010, at 10:12 pm This weekend has not gone as planned. We spent today in the emergency vet clinic.
 When Julia had her cancer removed in July 2009, we opted not to pursue radiation because all the trips to the dentist and oncologist were making her fearful that every time we came home, we were going to take her someplace. She is normally shy and prone to anxiety as it is, and our regular vet agreed that our choice was right for Julia. The oncologist said that there was likely some cancer left behind that would spread, and that we could expect about six more months, which would likely be painless for her.
It’s been almost nine months. The cancer seems to have spread to at least a lymph node, which has been enlarged for several months. Her appetite and energy remained as good as or even better than ever.
Normally Julia wakes us on weekends by meowing outside the bedroom until we acquiesce to her demands for breakfast. When she doesn’t wake us, it’s almost always because she has had an upset stomach and has left us a mess to clean, but even then she greets us as we come down the stairs.
On Friday night she cleaned her plate and seemed completely normal, but on Saturday she didn’t wake us. We came downstairs and she remained where she was. She soon crawled up onto my lap and spent the day there (except while I showered and she sat in Mark’s lap), breathing heavily. We really thought the cancer had finally caught up with her lungs and that this was the end.
Suddenly at 10:30 PM, she jumped out of my lap and headed to her litterbox. Then she began the back-and-forth familiar to anyone who knows anything about UTIs. We set out some extra milk and water and kept an eye on her. Today she seemed even weaker, so we took her to the clinic.
You meet some interesting people at the emergency pet clinic, like the homeless man who walked in with a dead or half-dead guinea pig. I don’t know where he got it, but apparently he is a regular. Then there was the woman who wouldn’t stop telling her two-sentence story about her dog who appeared to be suffering from little more than living with someone who needs a social outlet.
Anyway, Julia got some subcutaneous fluids, some antibiotics, and bloodwork. She was very dehydrated and needs to see her regular vet tomorrow to see if her kidney function has improved with the fluids. They sent us home with an appetite stimulant and we think she may have eaten just a little while we were out at dinner. She is a bit more alert but still pretty miserable, and has nearly worn a rut between her chair and her litterbox.
So that’s where we are tonight. If you have a pet, give it a big hug.
By Amber, on March 4, 2010, at 10:00 pm Sick day essentials: pajamas, extra-soft blanket, cell phone, magazine, DayQuil, fluids, tissues, and someone to snuggle with.
Optional, but highly recommended: pho ga.
Okay, maybe it’s not a cure, but it beats toughing it out at the office.
By Amber, on February 4, 2010, at 9:30 pm This is Julia (you may recognize her if you’ve ever viewed my ‘About Me‘ page):
Julia is about ten years old. She’s been with me for seven. She’s a cancer survivor (she saw both a dentist and an oncologist last year in addition to her vet, which is more medical attention than I had!) and a very gentle, shy little creature. She follows me all over the house and sits right outside the bathroom if I’m thoughtless enough to close the door. When I lived alone, she slept perched on my hip every night, but she was banned from the bedroom when I got married.
That was before we moved to Texas, so she has never been allowed into the bedroom in this house. A few times she tried to sneak in, but she got called on it and wisely skittered away. Most of the time, her manners are excellent — she’ll sit right outside the door watching me:
I can even disappear from view, into the master bathroom, with the bedroom door wide open. She will edge right up to the carpet, but she won’t cross that line:
Houston has been very cold lately (where very cold = 50s; hush, I’m a Southerner now and wear socks to bed if the temperature is below 65) and the other night Miss Julia found a creative way to snuggle up and steal some warmth from us without exactly stepping into the bedroom:
I guess sometimes you just have to know how to break the rules.
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