Snow Day Revisited

What a beautiful snow we had here! It really messed up the roads, but almost everything was closed so we didn't have to go to work.  So, I took a nice walk outside (another mile plus for the big race) and took a few photos to share.  The first two were in the development (where private plows cleaned things up)...

This is how the "real" roads looked (above); it was no fun to actually drive on them when I had to make the trip South late today.

And what do cats do on a day like today?  If you've fed the birds right outside the door, they hang out and "hunt" for birds together...like a pride! 

Always fun to watch--they cluck and chirp, their tails twitch and sometimes, they all crouch down and their ears go back--ready to pounce!  Who needs any other form of entertainment! 

Have a comment? Advice? Random observation? I'd love to hear it. Click "COMMENTS" just below.

Be a Light to the World

What a beautiful Sunday morning we had here!  Sunshine, snow melting, a cold crisp breeze....  And we had an interesting Sunday School class and a great reminder from the church service that we are to be the Light of the world. 

John Wesley (English theologian, 1703-1791) preached about many things, including the proper use of money.  We had a challenging discussion on his ideas, which are easy to sum up because his published sermon practically does it for me. He believed that earning money was a blessing and that you should make as much as you can without hurting yourself, your neighbors or society; save as much as you can, and give as much as you can.  Also, he believed that it is our duty to be good stewards of all things, money included.

In church after that, we were focused on being "the light of the world."  Light brings warmth, happiness, and growth; it shines on others and shows them goodness.  In church (and afterward, as I think about the message), I always think about what I, personally, could do to use or apply the themes of the message.

In short, it occurred to me that I could use this space for more uplifting things.  And there are other things I can do, every day, to show the Light to the world. 

Not sure about you, but pictures of cute cats make me feel happy.  Here are Tiger and Clee, who were snuggling and bathing each other before I interrupted.

And here are Fuzzy and Clee (he's on the bottom) sacked out on the sofa on Christmas Day.  No one can sleep--or cuddle--like kittens! 

I hope to have brought some happiness to your day--

 Have a comment? Advice? Random observation? I'd love to hear it. Click "COMMENTS" just below.

Always a Shard of Good

I've puzzled over this post a bit.  Write about the sad or the little bit of happy?  In effect, they're so intertwined that the larger story is necessary in order to tell about my little ray of hope in the midst of it.
  
We had a nice Easter, which to me means being in church and singing those familiar, much-loved hymns and all that.  It was glorious as always, and we were greeted by dozens of friends there, all sharing in the joy.  Hubby's elderly aunt was visiting with us, and although she's nearly deaf she enjoyed the service too.

After a breakfast of bagels and coffee, they napped while I made our Easter dinner--I glazed and cloved the ham, made the potato salad out of fresh red-skinned potatoes and dill, prepared the pseudo-cheesecake (Jello-brand) and the asparagus.  We sat down just after 5:00, and after a prayer and about 2 bites of dinner, everything went south.

I was concerned right away when hubby's dear aunt couldn't seem to use her fork.  Then she couldn't speak--although trying, she stuttered some first letters but could form no words.  I moved to help her, and within minutes she had a seizure.  We eased her to the carpet....she awoke but still couldn't speak.  Eventually the ambulance came and off to the hospital.  It wasn't the way we expected to be spending Easter evening!

But the strangest thing happened in the several minutes between when the paramedics arrived (around here, medics work with the local volunteer ambulances, driving their own truck that does not transport patients) and when the ambulance arrived.  The competent young medics came in with their kits, our aunt was awake and stable, and in that lull, my husband called to me to look out the door.  I was charmed and amazed!

One of the white Manx cats...the one I called "brother" in the pictures here...was standing on the porch, his front paws on the door threshhold, staring right through the windowpane into the dining room!  As we looked at him, he peered in through the glass, moving his head back and forth, apparently to see better what was going on!  And he did this was with the paramedic truck sitting right outside and the two medics just having walked by him into the house.  He must not be that afraid of people after all!

I looked back after a few seconds to check on hubby's aunt, the ambulance people arrived, and "brother" took off at some point.  But how about that!!  I've had such a special feeling about those cats...just a sense that they are remarkable creatures.  Now I have a renewed feeling that these two Manxes are more than just a couple of strays.  They're something special, and Brother's interest--and (what I probably exaggerate into) concern for what happened inside the house just makes me think even more that they're meant to join our family!   

P.S.:  Hubby's aunt was admitted to the hospital and has not had another major event since Easter, and the Manx has been around for dinner as usual every night since then.

Feral Cats

In case you were wondering, I'm still here, plugging away. No disaster has befallen me or my family, it's just been a busy time recently.  Between work, home, feral cats, check-ups, and now a  lot of concern about hubby's 93 year old aunt, we've been extremely busy (a recurring theme, isn't it?). 

Speaking of feral cats, I have learned a WHOLE LOT about them recently.  After our sort-of decision to try to adopt the two Manx cats who have been visiting (we've vacillated a bit since learning how difficult it may be to actually get them to live inside) I went to the houses behind my across-the-street neighbor to make sure that the Manxes didn't belong to someone in that area, where I met a very nice lady named Dot who is also a cat lover.  Not only did she "know" the Manxes, she had also been feeding them and at least 5 additional cats who live in the woods adjacent to her house.  Dot's impression was that people drop off unwanted cats in the woods next to us.  Having four indoor cats herself, she was not in a position to take any more cats in, but assured me that the Manxes and several others were homeless.

Now realizing that we most likely had a colony of feral cats living among us, I've started researching and reading about them.  The trend these days is to trap-neuter-return (TNR) all members of a feral cat colony and then someone usually becomes the caretaker of the colony by putting out food and making a sturdy shelter for them.  One very interesting fact I learned is that in these shelters one should never put blankets, towels or the like because they mildew and become quite nasty.  Instead, the better bedding material is cedar chips, piled several inches deep, with a sprinkle of cat flea powder (other wood chips are ok, too).  Not only does the cedar deter fleas but the loose, deep material also allows the cats to burrow down and hollow out a nest which allows them to retain heat in the cold weather.

Until now I wasn't aware that there are dozens of groups all over the U.S. who sponser and/or operate TNR programs for feral cats.  One group with an excellent website full of resources is IndyFeral.  The foundational concept is that not all cats are alike and some are just not suited to living indoors, and this is not a reason to kill them.  They believe that there is good reason to neuter these cats so they don't overpopulate the area and also to avoid the many annoying behaviors associated with mating.  These cats really do well living in colonies with some human support, according to the many websites.  A group in San Diego also has a very informative website, here.  There, they have documented a 50% reduction in the number of cats caught and killed by animal control compared to the year before the TNR program started nearly 2 decades ago. 

So, for me, this kind of changes things.  I had a nice talk with a wonderful lady from a neighboring town who runs their TNR program, and although she didn't want to discourage me (she said), she thought it was highly unlikely that the Manxes would be tameable as house cats.  But, she was absolutely positive that the cats must be caught and neutered, and she was willing to help us, since her town is having a lull in complaints about feral cats right now.  Next week we are getting together--she's bringing the cat traps and will be making appointments for the neutering the next day (she's pretty sure we'll catch them in one night).  So, late next week I'm becoming part of the TNR group here.  It's funny how you can get involved in a project by caring about something, even when you didn't mean to take it all on!

I still want to see if the Manxes show any signs of being socialized in their past--maybe in just a couple of days they might warm up or something.  If not, we'll release them back to their colony, where they seem to be making out pretty well so far. 

So, I guess I'm becoming at least a part-time feral cat colony caretaker.  I think I'll get Dot involved...maybe if I fund a bunch of cat food she won't mind.  ;-) 

A Little News

Tonight I'm more excited than I have been in a while. Here's why. In casual conversation with hubby, we talked about how neither of our two remaining cats (Tiger and Frankie--click "Cats" to see my recent cat history) seem to have any mousing ability whatsoever. I thought it was instinctive! Not!

We have let the two out to the garage on many occasions, and I had been hoping that the usual pre-Spring mouse population would be kept in check. However, last week I was made to jump out of my skin when I went out to the garage to leave for work and a big mouse hopped out of the birdseed bag on a face-high shelf about 4 feet from me and ran down a rake handle to the floor. (No, I didn't hop around screaming, but it did make me jump!) I haven't seen a mouse in the garage since I cleaned it several years ago and started having Storm spend time out there periodically.

ANYWAY, so when I mentioned that we might have to get a young female mouser, hubby right away suggested we might try to catch and tame the two Manxes I wrote about just below. They are such beautiful cats! And more importantly, at least one of them (recall, I don't even know their genders) has been catching voles out of my garden pretty regularly, I think. (The voles ate everything with a thick root 2 years ago but now the population is way down.) At least I have seen them hunting over in my gardens and one time I found a dead vole laid out in the middle of a section.

So, I'm starting to plan how we can do this, what we should do about taming them...keeping in mind that it may not be possible at all. Must keep that in mind. They may be too shy, they may not get along with Tiger and Frankie; they may not want to use the litter box; if one's a male he may spray; they may have an incurable disease...there are lots of things which could go wrong, but just the possibility is exciting to me!

Unusual Feline Visitors

Over the last few weeks, we have had the most adorable visitors to our deck. I had seen them around the neighborhood from time to time--they stood out because of their tails...or lack thereof, I should say. These two Manx cats appear to be feral--or at least they're very afraid of human contact.



So, I have fed them because they look to be alone and hungry. I can't tell their genders, but I have called them brother and sister (the sister having more black spots), just to have an easy way to refer to them.


I don't think any two cats would eat this closely unless they were from the same litter. (I'm inside, behind my glass-faced doors.)


"Brother" seems to me to have a thicker neck and mane...more masculine.


While it seems to me that "sister" could be pregnant, judging by her plumpness.

If they have kittens, I'll be doing my best to capture them and get them into good homes.


But at the moment, every time I'm here, I serve up some cat food and stand on the porch calling "Hey Manxes! Here Manxes! Here's some dinner Manxes!" They do not come when I call, but I have noticed that very soon after my car appears in the driveway they stop in to check the bowl on the porch. Maybe I am getting them accustomed to people, at least a little bit, after all.

Memories

I took a bit of time off of blogging to think about Storm, but I'm back and wanted to share some happy things!

Storm was the cat who figured stuff out. When she wanted to go out the sliding glass door to the screened porch, she was the first one to sit right by where it opens. Soon, she learned that the little lever at the top was the first step to opening the door. So when she wanted to go out, she would hop up on the speaker near the door and fiddle with the lever a bit. I'm not quite sure if she was thinking "I know this is how I could open the door" or "Here, mom and dad, first I want you to flip this, then you'll pull the door open."

She also learned the same thing about the garage. If she wanted to go check out the garage, she would stand full height on her hind legs and reach up to the door handle with her "hands" and paw at it. She would even be working on the correct end--the part that moves down when you turn the lever.

The photo of Storm with her favorite toy also brings back memories...from the moment we opened the Christmas presents for the cats that year, that pink and green octopus was Storm's. She never seemed to tire of it. She would take it in her mouth and throw it up over her head, then leap on it before it even landed. Repeatedly. What fun to watch!!

One time she got outside while we were away (darn cat sitter) and we had all of the lights on looking for her inside (not knowing yet that she was out.) That girl came around to the tall kitchen window which is about 1 ft. off the floor on the inside. From the outside, she could reach the lower edge with her front feet while standing full height on her hind legs. She waited there, where she could just see what was happening in the kitchen, and meowed when we came into the room.

Storm was the one who played with her "cousin" Frankie, who never had littermates to show her how to play nicely. So, they developed this game where Storm would run behind the entertainment center in the great room and reach through the 2" hole for wires for the bottom shelf. Frankie would launch herself onto the bottom shelf and the two would take turns batting at each other through the hole...but no one got hurt because the hole limited the attack safely.

Of course Storm and her twin, Tiger would play together the most. So many mornings they would just run from one end of the house to the other, chasing each other, tagging or rolling around at the other end, then doing it all over again. OH, and how they used to go wild over birds and squirrels outside--hunting them together through the windows.

We can really tell how Tiger and Frankie miss Storm; each has looked for her in places we know they would always find Storm. It's very sad to see, but I've also noticed that now Tiger and Frankie will sit at the French doors and "hunt" squirrels together. We also see the two sitting nearer to one another, and have started feeding them next to one another (instead of the twins together, with several feet between them and Frankie). Thankfully, they seem to be developing a closer friendship than ever before.

I think they'll be ok, and I think we'll be ok too, eventually.

My Precious Storm

I have been struggling with this post since Friday night. I'm going to leave the beginning I wrote on Friday:

Today has been a shock and truly awful. Yesterday, I was enthralled in the pure bliss found in my soft, furry companions. Today has been a nightmare. I am in shock and in tears.

This morning, hubby was up before me and called the cats to their breakfast as he has for years. I heard him calling "Storm! Storm! Come Storm!" and after a few minutes he came up and told me that Storm didn't come to have breakfast. I'm a very slow riser in the morning normally, but this was odd. I got up immediately. Storm--or any of the cats--just never misses breakfast. My husband and I exchanged phrases--she couldn't have gotten outside--I heard her at midnight at the bedroom door--I'm sure she's just hiding or sleeping--she's been in hiding before.

Things just felt different today. I went around the house calling to Storm. I looked under things, then went to the basement. I thought I heard a "meow" near the furnace, but no. Over by the washer I turned on the other two lights, calling "Storm" several times. Finally, she answered "meow"...then louder, "Meow!" Her call was coming from behind the washer. I finally saw her, lying in the eight inch space behind the washer. She didn't get up to my calls. I moved the hampers, the little shelving unit, and reached to her.

It wasn't until then that I realized that she couldn't get up. Immediately I thought she had a spinal cord injury...she couldn't move her hind legs. I gingerly pulled her from her hiding place, trying to somehow keep her spine from moving and wrapping her in a retired bath mat to give her additional support. "Honey! HONEY!!" I cried. Storm's back feet were cold to the touch. Her breathing was rapid and shallow, with a deep sigh every few breaths--a disturbing pattern. She felt cold all over. My husband came down as I put her on the island in the kitchen with the doubled bath mat as her bed. Storm seemed a little relieved as she rested her head on my forearm, her lower body limp.

I knew it was grave. I kept replaying in my mind how Storm could possibly have fallen (she's a very lithe cat) and hurt her distal spine. I just couldn't believe it. We soon learned that I really had no grasp of what really had happened to my girl.

Hubby and I took Storm immediately to the emergency vet. Driving there I held her in my lap, still supporting her spine in the bathmat. There, the tech got her vital signs and told me that Storm was a bit cold...when I asked later, she told me 92.5 F, which is far below the normal for a cat (100.5-102.5). The vet, a softspoken South African man, examined her and gave us his first impressions. Although possible that Storm had injured her spine, he thought that she more likely suffered from a blood clot lodged at the distal end of her aorta, blocking both femoral arteries. It's something that happens, particularly in American Shorthair and Maine Coon cats. They did x-rays--chest, hips, legs, spine--and he found no spinal or other fractures or bony defects but noted a somewhat enlarged heart. It was a clot.

My experiences with human patients told me that clots could be dissolved with medications, but reperfusion injuries could be very destructive. These patients were also treated within minutes to an hour or two after injury--Storm's legs were cold, completely paralyzed and her toenail beds were blue. We only knew that she was walking around midnight, paralyzed at 7:30 in the morning. My heart was sinking very quickly.

The doctor carefully explained how cats often can have enlarged hearts but manage to hide any symptoms because they cope so well. This cardiomyopathy worsens and allows a clot to form in the heart, which can break off and lodge in the bifurcation of the aorta. Storm had never been sick a day in her life. I never saw a single sign of heart disease, but I understand how she could have kept it so well hidden.

Knowing that she was hypothermic, I wrapped covers around her and tried to warm her with my body heat, supporting and stroking her the whole time. She rested her head on my forearm like she was exhausted and knew I was there to take care of her.

As we discussed Storm's prognosis and few options, her breathing became more labored and he listened to her lungs again. He had mentioned pulmonary edema due to heart failure earlier, and it was already worse. The kind doctor let me borrow his stethescope and I was horrified. I've heard wet rales that bad before, but always when we were making the decision to intubate the patient to prevent complete respiratory failure. I couldn't speak but my husband told me later that my face said it all.

The staff moved very quickly to get Storm an IV and give her a strong pain medicine. I stroked her and held her head while the doctor started the IV, then cuddled her once the IV was placed. As soon as the medication was in she relaxed a lot. I couldn't believe it was all happening so fast.

Knowing that embolectomy (surgery) was out, medications were extremely risky and reperfusion would likely kill her--and that even if we could get her through the "clot-buster" phase almost all cats have repeat clots, often fatal, within weeks, we faced the only humane option. Thank goodness my husband brought it up with the vet: "Is it too early to consider..." When he said "no" I broke. We all knew it was the only option.

I had taken the role of the critical care nurse--Storm was the patient. I held her, comforted her, would have done anything for her, but had not faced the fact that she might not make it. When the actual need to decide that euthanasia was what we needed to do for her, the reality hit me and my eyes welled up with tears. I knew Storm would not survive this crisis, and kindness dictated that we not put her through days of suffering.

Thank heavens my husband was there to sign the consent form and fill out the form about her remains, because when the second gal showed up with the clipboard I couldn't deal with her. I only knew that these were my last minutes with Storm, and I wasn't going to pay attention to anything but her. Storm was a lot more relaxed after her pain medication, but was still breathing hard and when she tried to reposition herself her paralyzed legs gave her pain. We had a few minutes with her then.

I focused only on her. My husband did not want to be there at the end, so he petted and ruffled her fur and said goodbye. The dear kind vet put together the necessary medications and I leaned in close to Storm, whispering in her ear and stroking her shoulder and chest. As I nuzzled her head and stroked her, I thought I heard her purring very quietly. Then her breathing slowed and then stopped.

I couldn't stop stroking her and feeling the soft fur of her head on my face. After another minute I looked up and the vet gave her a soft pet. He listened to me babble about what a wonderful cat she was, how smart she was....he asked if I needed something for my cut hand--I was bleeding from when Storm had gotten me with her "thumb" nail when I held her head for the IV.

The vet, knowing how attached we pet owners can be, offered me the snippings of her fur from when they shaved her arm for her IV. Not knowing whether I wanted it or not, I wrapped the fur in a tissue and stuffed it in my pocket.

I stroked her several more times, so limp and still, and said my last goodbye to my very smartest pet, my very best girl Storm.

With her favorite toy

On Thursday afternoon

Kitty Bliss

When it's 20 degrees and snowing like a blizzard outside, what do you do? Here's one of the things we do around our house....we join our cats as they show us the best ways to keep warm! Here are the twins enjoying the fire.

I was a little surprised that Storm actually let her brother Tiger share her stool. Things soon went back to normal....

Just like most men, Tiger always wants to have the remotes...

Frankie has her favorite place to keep warm....


But when there's a fire, Frankie will join the rest of us in the great room.

Storm looks like a cuddly baby here...so relaxed, so happy...loving the heat of the fire on her back. Sometimes I feel like that, like the rare occasion when I'm in my toasty warm bed, feeling the smooth cotton sheets and the featherlight warmth of the down comforter--and I don't have to get up if I don't want to. It's a rare and special bliss.

Storm is sleeping in her own bliss here. I thought this was so cute I just had to post this picture too!

When the state of emergency (and driving ban...yes, we are legally forbidden to drive on the roads except for emergencies) is lifted and we're able to get out, who knows where bliss will be found. For now though, it's right here.

Happy Monday!

Back to work Monday. I can't say it was a very happy Monday, but it was an ok day. I have a friend that sends out messages regularly with subjects like "Happy Monday!" (or any day of the week.) It's a bit "off" to put it that way, since "Happy ___" usually goes with holidays--"Happy Easter!" "Happy New Year!" or "Happy Hanukkah!"--not with days we are fond to dread. Maybe she's being ironic? Or more likely, she's just hopeful.

Well, not too much news (no swollen ankles yet but not much response to the BP medicine either), so I'm going to just show you a picture of my pretty girl cat, Frankie. (She was named after "old blue eyes" Frank Sinatra, mostly.) It's not easy to get good cat pictures because they normally get right up and come investigate the camera, but Frankie was just settling in for a nap when I took this one.

Dewey

by Vicki Myron with Bret Witter

Dewey is the story of a tiny kitten who is abandoned in the library book return in Spencer, Iowa on a frigid January night.

My Cat Can Talk

No seriously, she can. Not in English, mind you, but in a fairly straightforward dialiect of feline that's easily translated. You laugh, but she can.

Some very basic background is required. We have 3 cats. Two of them ("the twins") or actually the quintuplets--of which we have a brother and sister--are 6 years old. He, Tiger, is an orange tabby and she, Storm, is an amazing mixture of colors and patterns, of which black, orange and white are the most prominent. The third is Frankie, all white with blue eyes (she can hear) who came along as a stray with a bullet in her femur (that's another story for another day.)

It's been a while since I first noticed that Storm's vocalizations are quite complex. She will sometimes give half to almost full meows, high to low in pitch, with churps and gurgles interspersed with some purr/growl noises. It's easy to recognize that she's talking to you when she does this--she looks at you and even cocks her head for emphasis at the right places.

One night not long ago, Tiger and Storm went out to our attached garage to look for mice (or generally explore) before dinner. Unfortunately for them, we went to bed and forgot to let them back in the house until the next morning, when my husband let them in for breakfast. When I came downstairs a little later, a very indignant Storm was sitting on the counter, in the corner you must walk by to get to the coffee (she doesn't get on the counter often). Boy, did she ream me out for leaving them in the garage!! She lectured me with for minutes with meows, chirps, growls, nodding and cocking her head, looking straight at me--and I knew precisely what she meant.

Ok, you say, but that doesn't prove she can talk.

But wait, there's more: fast forward 2 weeks, when Tiger went into the garage but Storm didn't, and "somehow" we forgot him out there. I got up early the next morning for work, and Storm met me before I got to the chair where I put my shoes on. She started in with the same cat lecture, the exact same meow/chirp/growl/mew in the same tones, with eye contact and nodding for emphasis, and I immediately knew that she was telling me that her brother was left in the garage all night. Without shoes I went out to the kitchen and let him in--and Storm had nothing further to tell me. She licked his face and went back to watching me put my shoes on.

She's one smart cat!