From the Black Cat

Dear Inferior Beings,

You probably think Halloween is all about tricks and treats, goblins and ghosts, witches and jack-o’-lanterns. Wrong! Wrong, I tell you!

We black cats rule on October 31, and don’t you forget it.

Now, make sure you leave me a tuna flavored treat and no one’ll get scratched.

Meow, people.

Double Edged Reblog

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2019/10/30/double-edged/

For some reason this attached piece never appeared in my published posts section, yet it’s no longer in my scheduled section. Weird. I know it was published because folks have commented on it, but just to be safe, I’m doing a reblog.

Here’s an irrelevant photo of a cute kitten.

Afternoon on the Lake

The squirrels showed up first,

Chittering and bushy tailed

Scrambling for acorns they’d hide

But never find again.

A flash of red announced a cardinal

Who watched warily as one

Determined squirrel chose to dig

Too close for his comfort.

Another cardinal followed,

Then a blue jay asserted himself

Into the mix, loudly searching for tidbits

Among the oak leaves littering the yard.

Even a lizard crept along the red bricks

Hoping to go unnoticed,

But I spied him, as did the cat.

All while gentle ripples stirred the lake

Dry leaves rustled in the wind, and

An unseen songbird trilled an apology.

He must’ve been late to the party.

Singin’ in the Lane

My back is still not happy with me, but I had to run an errand in Tallahassee. My reward for surviving the trip was a coffee Frappuccino with almond milk at Starbucks.

As I waited for the barista to take my order I sang along with the radio,

“Memory, all alone in the moonlight
I can dream of the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again”

The performance must’ve been really good because I received a standing ovation at the window. Well, the barista was already standing, but she was applauding, as well. That counts for something, right?

Peace, people!

Snapshot #270

For three weeks I’ve trailed behind our youngest cat, Patches, in an attempt to get a fecal sample for the veterinarian. We’d tried isolating her in a guest suite outfitted with a litter box in the bathroom and plenty of food and water in the adjoining bedroom, but that just traumatized her to the point where instead of pooping, she peed on every imaginable surface and didn’t poop even a little bit.

It took me a day to clean everything and it’s taken even longer to soothe poor Patches’s nerves. I’ve had to mend a lot of fences with her, and she’s still pretty jumpy.

My next plan for getting a sample from her was to catch her in the act of pooping, thereby knowing for sure it was her poo and not Scout’s. Sounds fairly straightforward, right? Not with a traumatized Patches. We went a couple of days without seeing her at all, and while I knew she was using the litter box I couldn’t distinguish Patches’s Poo from Scout’s Scat.

I’d almost given up on ever getting a piece of Patches’s poo when this very morning I had the pleasure of seeing her make a deposit in the box. I’ll tell you I’ve not been this excited about watching a bowel movement since our youngest child was potty trained. I had to rein in my enthusiasm, though, so as not to interrupt her endeavors. Inside my head I was jumping with joy.

So this, friends, is Snapshot #270. We’re calling it, The Sweet Smell of Success.

Peace, people!

Snapshot #271

I’m recovering from a day of travel on Monday. From a 6 a.m. central time zone wake up to a 2:00 a.m. eastern time zone bedtime with no naps in between, I was a zombie for most of Tuesday.

That’s why you’re only getting this picture of my grandcat, Snuggles, who wanted to kiss me goodbye before I left Illinois.

Let’s call this one, I Wonder If I Could Smuggle Her in My Luggage.

Grandpets

Currently I’m in western Illinois hanging out with my daughter and her family. On Friday the adults went to work, the children went to school, and I got to snuggle with the pets.

That’s Match, above. He’s a friendly guy, who hates storms and tolerates pesky cats.

Below, is Snuggles, a pesky cat.

She is beautiful, but something of a little stinker. Messing with Match is her favorite pastime.

The three of us passed a stormy day together in quiet companionship; although, as soon as the thunder and lightning moved on the cat was back to attacking the dog.

Peace, people!

My Scout, My Shadow

Since Scout has been sick she’s barely left my side. When I sit, she sits. Where I walk, she follows. When I stand, she tries to coax a treat out of me. Treats are currently forbidden.

She’s so sweet. I’m not going to complain about her attempts at coercion, but I’m not going to give in to her demands, either.

Scout’s gone more than three days now without a treat, and today was a great day with no puking. I’m hoping we’ve turned Vomit Corner and are now on Wellness Street. Fingers crossed.

Peace, people.

Scout: The Inside Scoop

Our 15-year-old cat, Scout, has been under the weather the last couple of weeks.

To look at her you wouldn’t think there’s a thing wrong. She is as playful and loving as ever. Her bowel movements are normal, thanks for asking. However, she pukes. A lot. A portion of everything she eats makes a reappearance within 30-40 minutes of ingestion. Poor baby!

I took her to see the vet a week ago, and all of her vitals were normal. The doc suggested that we stop giving Scout her favorite treats to see if they were too much for her elderly system. Scout did not appreciate giving up her treats. She begged and wheedled and several times convinced Studly Doright to break the rules. I’m made of stronger stuff. I only gave in once.

This afternoon I took my Scout for a follow up visit. She’d lost a half a pound, and for a 10 pound cat that’s significant. I told the vet that Scout’s still puking a bit after every meal even without treats. She took some x-rays, and the great news is there’s no tumor.

However, one of her kidneys is smaller than the other, and her liver has shrunk. Neither of these would result in her puking, though.

The vet said Scout might benefit from a change in diet, so we’re going to try something new. She also said that maybe we could consider an ultrasound.

This is where it gets tough. My girl is 15. That’s 76 in human years. Where do we take this from here? Do I stress my kitty out with multiple vet visits, poking, and prodding? Or do we enjoy her elder years with me cleaning up vomit several times a day? Right now I think we’ll see if the food makes a difference.

Like Scout, I’m elderly. I have undiagnosed digestive issues. I’ve drastically changed my diet, and still I’m dealing with some discomfort. That doesn’t keep me from enjoying my favorite treat from time to time.

Scout’s treats look like this:

Maybe I’ll sneak her one every now and then.

Peace, people.

For the Love of Cat

Our eldest cat, Scout, is 15 years old. According to a calculator I found online at Catnip Times, that equates to 76 in human years.

https://www.thecatniptimes.com/learn/how-old-is-my-cat-in-human-years-calculator/

So, she’s no spring chicken, but she remains playful and seems to enjoy everything and everyone who comes into our home. She’s not crazy about Patches, her younger “sibling,” but she grudgingly accepts her just the same.

On Tuesday night I awakened to the sound of Scout coughing up a hair ball. That’s not all that unusual, so I turned over and went back to sleep. When I woke up on Wednesday morning I was dismayed to see cat puke everywhere. After I called the vet and made an appointment I spent the next hour looking all through the house for puddles of puke and cleaning them up. Scout didn’t seem all that distressed, but still I wanted to see what the vet would say.

Scout, nestled into her carrier, complained loudly during our brief drive to the veterinarian ‘s office. Her pleasant demeanor doesn’t extend to car rides of any length. We’d never visited this doctor, so I was as nervous as my kitty about what we’d encounter. I was even more nervous about what we might learn.

The facility is brand new.

And the interior was welcoming. They took Scout and me back to an exam room within just a few minutes.

The doctor was dealing with an emergency, so Scout and I waited for awhile. It was a sweet wait, though, as she nestled in my arms like a baby. Occasionally she’d look up for reassurance, and I’d soothe her with a few words.

When they examined her everything looked good. They took her back for blood work and a few other diagnostic tests. While I waited one of the assistants took me on a tour of the premises. It’s a state of the art facility, and is equipped with luxury boarding for dogs and cats. I wouldn’t mind staying in one of the kennels! Comfy beds and satellite tv in every room.

As we rounded a corner I spied Scout in one of the rooms. My eyes filled with tears–she just looked so vulnerable there with the doctor and her assistant bent over her. The doctor motioned for me to come in, and I realized that Scout was enjoying every minute of the attention. The doctor said she was probably the best cat patient they’d ever had.

Her blood work came back fine. She’s in excellent health for a cat of her age, but the doctor suggested switching her to a different food to see if that might help. So, after $300 in vet bills I learned that absolutely nothing is wrong with my baby. And I breathed a sigh of relief. I know that some day we’ll have to say goodbye to her, but thank goodness it wasn’t this day.

Peace, people.