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Archive for the ‘Cats’ Category

Find The Cat

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For those readers who don’t live in the Southwest, Sassy is zonking on a pot shelf. Architects intend these structures to be adorned with pots (of course), plants, sculptures, and other Southwestern brick-a-brack. I own none of those things, so all of the pot shelves in my house that are close enough to other tall stuff (like the shower walls) are solely in Sassy’s domain.

Because I am REALLY averse to climbing up on a ladder to reach a ten-foot ceiling, I have never dusted any of the many pot shelves in my house. I shudder to think how dusty it must be up there, and what Sassy may be ingesting when she cleans her fur.  But hey! it’s her lookout.

On days I’m home I leave a soft-seated chair near the shower so she can break the eight-foot-or-so jump to the floor from the shower wall (you can see a corner of this reflected in the mirror on the right of the photo). I do this not only because I care about Sassy’s well-being but because I DO NOT want to rush her to a vet to fix a strained ligament or a broken leg sustained when she jumps onto the tile floor.

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Cat As Trump Voter

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Early this morning I awoke to discover that Sassy was nowhere to be found–in her usual haunts, at least. I put out some food, thinking the sound of a can opening would draw her out of wherever she was hiding. Nope.

I began a more thorough search, trying to think of places where she might have gotten stuck. I turned on the light in the garage, just in case, and there, peering out through the windshield of my car, was a sad little face.

How did she get in the car? Well, yesterday was a lovely warm day here in Geezerville, and the car’s windows were open when I last arrived home. I closed the drivers’ side window but neglected to close the passenger side before I turned off the ignition. Those of you whose cars have electronic windows know that the car must be running in order to operate the windows. There was a gap of about four inches from the top of the car, but I thought to myself that Sassy would never find it, let alone perform the gymnastics necessary to squeeze herself through it.

Wrong on both counts.

She was very happy to be rescued. I have no idea if she learned anything from this experience, so as she happily munched on tuna, I found the keys, turned on the car, and closed the offending window. Just in case.

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The Clinton Rules

 

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Yep, it’s been awhile since I posted but I’m still here.

This is my favorite pic of Hillary, taken while she endured eleven hours of mindless grilling about Benghazi from Rethugs on the House oversight committee. Which proved to be yet another nothingburger ginned up by her enemies. These piles of aery substance date back to Bill’s presidency, when he was accused of running drugs through a tiny airport in Arkansas. I kid you not.

Then there was Vince Foster, and Whitewater, and the vandalism supposedly done to the White House when the Clintons left it. All nothingburgers.

The Clinton Rules dictate that anything the Clintons do must be read by the press as suspicious. Famously, she used a private server when she was Sec/State, just as Colin Powell and Condoleeza Rice had done before her. Powell is now denying that he suggested to Hillary that she also use a private server, and the press has taken his word for it rather than hers. I want to shout at my teevee:  “And you’d rather believe a man who lied to the UN in order to get us into a war of choice?”

And now the AP is trying to make something out of the e-mails dredged up by the FBI and leaked by members of Congress.Which amount to another nothingburger. (If you don’t believe me, read Matt Iglesias’s take at Vox, which ably dispels the wishful thinking in the AP piece). (http://www.vox.com/2016/8/24/12630586/ap-response-clinton-foundation).

Now the press is crying for the Clintons to “shut down” their Foundation. As if this were even possible. James Carville pointed out all over the teevee dial yesterday that if they close down the Foundation people will die–people to whom the Foundation delivers AIDS meds, food and clean water, and other medications. As Carville put it, the job of the foundation is to take money from rich people and give it to poor people.

Is that maybe why the Beltway pundits hate the Clintons?

Now Trump is about to go on trial for fraud, and he is playing fast and loose with his campaign funds (demonstrated, for example, by his failure to donate money he raised for veterans TO veterans). Do these issues and the other fishy Trump deals (like not paying people who work for him) get equal time in the smear machine? Nope.

I could go on but Goddess all of this is tiring. Sometimes I wonder how the Clintons manage to get up and go to work every morning, knowing that anything they say or do will probably generate bad press for them.

But Hillary is both tough and smart, and she sure is resilient. This afternoon she gave a barn-burner of a speech about Trump’s racist screeds.With any luck, that–along with his about-face on his immigration policy–will suck up all the air/space for awhile.

PS: Sassy is doing well. I remembered that she used to eat the calming food that had been prescribed for Inky, and that she became unable to keep food down shortly after I took her off that food. Put her back on it, and she’s been fine ever since. Seems she had a case of the jitters, or whatever it’s called in Cat.

 

 

 

 

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Sassy Update Too

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAYesterday I took Sassy to the emergency vet because all through Saturday she vomited every time she ate, no matter what I gave her even in small portions (those just produced a smaller spot on the rug). I hoped that the emergency vet would give her a nausea suppressor and some famotidine, which, as all heartburn sufferers know, mellows a sore esophagus.

They gave her the shots I requested and hydrated her, but not before they insisted on x-rays. They took the very same shots my own vet had taken the previous Wednesday. Their radiologist said “there’s nothing in her stomach.” That is, no hairball. At first I was jubilant–wow! no surgery! Then I realized that this assessment disagreed with that made by my vet. How will we reconcile these diagnoses? I worried all the way home as Sassy meowed her indignation at being pawed (ha ha) by vets twice in five days.

She was fine during the rest of Sunday and happily ate the chicken and rice prescribed for her by the emergency vet. But this morning she barfed it all up.

Does this mean that Sassy has an obstruction somewhere we can’t see? Does she have some other disease like irritable bowel or, heaven forfend, pancreatitis? But no, that’s probably not the case because her blood work is fine.

Sorry to whine like this. But I’m living with a very sick cat and nobody seems to know what is the matter with her. So far I’ve spent $1200 trying to find out. (That seems even more outrageous when I type it). I hope to talk to my vet today–I’ll keep you tuned.

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Sassy UpDate

I can’t remember whether I told the immense audience of this blog that my remaining cat, Sassy, is a sweet girl who, unfortunately, has an enlarged heart. Hence her interior workings are somewhat fragile.

So when she began vomiting Tuesday evening, I took that as a very bad sign. Luckily, my vet was able to see her on Wednesday on a drop-in basis, so Sassy was at the clinic during a long morning. Turns out she has a huge hairball in her tummy. If she can’t get rid of it naturally, the vet wants to consider surgery.

As Trep might say, Yikes! That’s an enormous risk with a kitty who has Sassy’s ills. Let’s hope she can pass the hairball by herself. I’ve got voluminous instructions on how to feed her (small servings six times a day;  soak dry food in water) and orders to give her lots of Laxotone. I also asked that she be shaved (again) in hopes we could mitigate her intake of fur.

I brought her home late yesterday afternoon, and she was my shadow through the rest of the day and last night. She’s not a cuddly cat, but she likes to stay close. She seems much better this afternoon, wanting to play, so the feeding regimen may be working. Let’s hope so.

The prognosis for a kitty with an enlarged heart is not good, but I’d been hoping she would overcome that somehow, just as she overcame abandonment. Keep your fingers crossed. (Sorry there’s no picture;  I haven’t transferred the photo files from my other computer yet).

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Pretty Kitty

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Good news–Sassy is feeling better. No barfing for almost two days, and her limp has pretty much disappeared.

I’m feeling better too.  Finally.

And Hillary gave a dynamite speech yesterday. Even the pundits had to acknowledge its excellence, thus reversing their usual instinct to trash anything she does.

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Bonne Nuit

 

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This is my favorite picture of Inky–I took it on the first day he came out of the closet, so to speak, wherein he had been hiding since I brought him home from the shelter. My vet guessed that he was then about a year old, but because he grew considerably in the first months he lived with me, I think he may have been younger.

Inky was beautiful. But he also had “issues” as we now say in order to cover over ugly realities. He was aggressive, to use another euphemism. So much so that we went to see a kitty shrink a couple of years ago. We faithfully practiced the exercises she prescribed, and they mostly just tired both of us out. She warned that he would probably never get better, indeed, that the attacks might escalate. And they did. Lately he had begun to attack Sassy, and his attacks on both of us scaled up in frequency and severity.

I don’t know what causes a beautiful animal to attack other creatures. Perhaps he was abused when he was a kitten. Or perhaps he was just wired wrong. In any case, earlier this week after he launched a particularly vicious attack, I asked my vet to euthanize him. She had long ago agreed to do this when the time came, and she did so.

I’m not religious, but I hope nonetheless that death freed Inky from the demons that plagued him.

 

 

 

 

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