The Little Beasties

The two little beasties who have taken up residence in my house are settling right in and making themselves right at home.

I find myself laughing at their antics more than I probably should admit, but kittens are so darn cute and have such a wide-eyed, full of mischief way of going about life. I could learn a lot from those two.

Part of their "settling" is pushing the borders of my patience. They're kittens, I realize, but my word they get into things.  In an attempt to "train" them what is acceptable in the house and what isn't, I've had to resort to buying a "Kitten Rehabilitation Device".

Lucy gets it. She sees it, hears it or feels it and she's outta there.  She understands it's a bad thing and is apparently trying to not have the device used on her again.

Linus on the other hand just seems to be thrilled he's getting a bath.  I squirt him and say "No!" in a stern voice, and he looks at me, looks at his we fur and continues on with what he was doing.  This one will be tough to break.

Occasionally I catch them both doing something they aren't supposed to be and by squirting Lucy, she freaks Linus out and the end up here.

They seem to think this paper bag is going to protect them from the Kitten Rehabilitation Device (KRD).

The other things they are doing, and doing well is eating and pooping. Linus seems to be the master at clearing out a bowl of food as well as a room after he's "left" his gift.  This little green cloud follows him.  He came scrambling into the living room like a bat out of hell last night.  About 10 seconds later, the smell drifted in.

They both visited the V.E.T yesterday.  I was concerned that they might have ear mites...and they do.  The V.E.T. hooked them up with some meds and they should be fine in a week or so.  I got to see the actual mites under the microscope...it was very cool - and a bit gross.

The two demons had the run of the vet office and everyone in there seemed to want to play or hold them or take them home.  I will say, by the time I got home  these two were pooped.  They sacked out for a good hour - of course they were on my lap so I couldn't do anything either.

 

The little demons are going to be left alone for three days. I'm pretty sure I'll pay the price when I get back from the weekend.

This weekend we will be scattering Dad's ashes over in Odessa. On the one hand I'm looking forward to seeing some family I've not seen for a while. On the other, I'm sad to say goodbye to dad again.

Immediate Unconditional Love

When last we spoke I was letting fate control which cat(s) I end up with.  Most of you already know I am now the parent of two small kittens.

 

Meet Linus (on the left) and Lucy (on the right). These two have managed to wiggle their ways into my heart pretty darn quickly. I mean, what's not to love? Look at those innocent faces.  Siblings and trouble makers, that's what they are.

Linus is an easy going chap. He likes to stalk his sister and usually goes along with whatever she's doing. Lucy is the one full of piss and vinegar.  She is in everything and Linus isn't far behind her.

It's been a long, LONG time since I've been around kittens. And never have I had two.  Let's just say it has been entertaining and educational.

What I've learned from these two so far:
1. Unconditional love can be immediate.
2. Everything is a toy. Everything.
3. If it moves, pounce on it.
4. Cat naps really do invigorate you.
5. Follow the leader, cuz the leader has the food.

I've also learned that two kittens fit behind my pull out freezer drawer.  And getting two kittens out from behind said drawer almost took an act of congress.

Linus loves the back of this chair. So much action going on outside.

Lucy loves the other chair because of the comfy blanket put just there for her....Oh so she thinks.

I've only taken about 300 photos of these two so far. Of them only about a dozen are actually in focus and/or not blurry from the quick movement of these two. Kittens are fast.

These two stay in my room during the day and the closet at night.  They seem to have settled in quite well. I let them run around the house while I'm home but don't dare leave them free to roam while I'm not here.  I mean, God knows what they'll get into.  And had I not found Lucy tangled in my wine bottles in my wine rack, maybe I would. 

I still miss Pookie, but these two are certainly doing all they can to honor the old guy. The next several years should be interesting, and certainly not uneventful.

Where to begin...

Pookie hasn't been gone quite a week yet, but I feel like it's been a year. I had not idea that the loss of a pet I've had for 17 years would have such a profound effect on me. It has, at times, made me consider why I would ever get another cat.

And yet, sitting in my house at night - the silence is deafening.  Almost unbearable at times.  Granted Pookie wasn't always around me, but you could still feel a presence in the house.  Now its nothing but me rattling around.

I had a small, yet impactful, breakdown on Wednesday night. I had turned off the TV and had started to read.  As I read I was paying more attention to the lack of noise than the book.  Then it hit me....Pookie was gone. Gone for good, never EVER would he come running down the steps to see me. Never would I hear him jump off the bed at 7:30pm to come down to see me. Never would I hear him meow at the top of his lungs at 3AM in the bathroom that echos.  I was suddenly overcome with grief.

I kept telling myself, "It's a cat darn it. Not a person." And the more I told myself that lie, the more I realized that he was, in his own weird, furry way, a person to me. My "kid" if you will. It sounds ridiculous, I know, but if you've ever had a pet that you've truly loved, you get it. Either that or I'm being overly emotional and Pookie's death is triggering some hidden grief from when Dad died.  Who knows.

So here I am, barely a week since my beloved PookieSnack passed and I'm considering a new cat.

One side of me is feeling guilty that I would dare to consider getting (in my mind replacing) a cat. Pookie would be aghast at such a thought. Would getting a new cat mean I loved him less than I thought? Would getting a new cat mean his memory would be gone?

On the other hand, getting a new cat could be honoring him. Because he was such a great feline that getting a new feline just means I have a love for felines. Or that this new beast would be, somehow, Pookie's spirit in another form. 

And what if the new cat isn't as cool as Pookie was? What if I get a dud? I'd be stuck with said dud for 17 years?

Oh the questions.

At the end of the day I decided I think too much.  That in truth, I want, or rather, I need, an animal in my life. Pookie is gone.  He would approve, I'm sure.

So yesterday I started looking through the Seattle Humane Society photos of cats. And one spoke to me. One who's name is Munch Munch, but who spoke to me as if her name was Lucy.  I'll be calling the Humane Society when they open today to see if Lucy is still available.

I mean come one, how do you not want to just hug that little girl.

Then the Niece posted photos of three adorable black and white fluffy kittens.  I could take two of them, a girl and a boy.  Do I want two? I think yes. But Lucy is so darn cute...how does one not just take her. 

See...thinking too much.

So here's what I have decided, I'm going to let fate decide. I'm going to call the humane society and find out if Lady Lucy Munch Munch is available. If she is, she's mine.

Then I'll call the Niece, and if the little black and white fur balls are fluffy, medium hair kitties, I'll claim the boy.

There, two cats. Done.

Or am I?

Cinco de Mayo - Ole!

Life in the Wraspir household has been interesting. I miss the black beast.  I hadn't realized just how much I loved having something here to meet me at the door, or meet me in the bathroom, or come downstairs to tell me all about his day.  It's quiet in here. Too quiet.

However, last night, quiet was not what this house was. It was full of 3Day peeps helping me celebrate May Sunday Dinner.

For three years in a row now I've used May as the 3Day theme Sunday Dinner. This year we had Sunday dinner virgins. Yes, that's right, there are still people in the greater Seattle area who have not experienced a Sunday dinner at Chez Jenn's. 

We laughed like no body's business. These zany ladies (and one gent) are hilarious and I loved every minute with them.

My theme was Mexican since it was, after all, Cinco de Mayo. I made Mom's enchiladas and tacos.  Yum.  I made too many, of course, so there are plenty of leftovers for the Pantry Goat.

One of the 3day virgins, Chicago Babe, made a dessert that was out...of...this...world... It was just a cake. A bundt cake, but just a cake. Inside the middle of the cake was this wonderful mixture of whipped cream and cherries - and tainted green. The idea was it would look like a bowl of guacamole. Thankfully it tasted better than guacamole.

 

We took a different approach to the photo this time. I had been thinking about it for some time, and finally I figured this group of nutballs would be perfect for it. Hats.

 

yay Hats.

 

God knows I have plenty thanks to the 3day.  Everyone hopped onto the idea immediately. We even got Zoey the Wonder Dog to wear a hat.

 

Oh Zoey. Such a good dog.

Mr. and Mrs HotLanta, Chicago Babe, Blueberry, Me, Zoey the Wonder Dog, and Mrs. I live in  Elma.

 

PookieSnackenburger, gone but not forgotten

On a slightly overcast day in August 1996 a little runt of a black cat with a grey ring around his neck came home with me. I didn't know then that he'd wiggle his way into my life and become such a significant part of my life.  Today, he crossed over the rainbow bridge to that large litter box in the sky. 

When he first came home, Blueberry deemed him a her. I named "her" Dulcinea.  I would call her "Dulce" for short.  Two weeks after "she" came home "she" grew two fluffy black balls.  She became a "he".  His name then became Fang. See he used to spend a lot of time chewing on Blueberry's hand or my hand.  So Fang seemed appropriate.  But it didn't quite seem right.

One day I came home and I called him my Don Juan, DJ for short.  Then one day out of the blue I started calling him Pookie. And that stuck. Pookie became Pookie.

He had a damn good life and lived a fully spoiled adventure every day. We were both blessed to have each other. Pookie moved around a lot too. Every move I made he adjusted better and better. The last move to this house didn't even phase him.  In his 17 years he lived in 7 different places. Turns out he was part gypsy too.

He is going to be truly missed - and is missed already. He was surrounded by humans who adored him and knew he was lying with every meow that came out of his mouth. His talkative nature made me think he knew the answer to world peace but I couldn't speak cat so couldn't understand him.  I'm sure he was very frustrated.

The past few weeks have been hard. I had to watch the first time you tired to get up and found your back legs weren't listening to you. And I watched carefully these few months as you've walked slower, struggled more with steps, had more accidents, slept deeper and deeper.
I hurt when you struggle to get up. I worried about you when I was gone. I watched you carefully when I was home to make sure you don't need me. I get sick to my tummy when I saw you limp slowly across the room.

I had no choice but to be a brave woman and make that decision earlier this week. The toughest thing I've had to do.  I knew it was the right choice today when I barely cried when Dr. Hanna took you away.  I chose to not hold him or be in the room with him. I just didn't want that to be my last memory of him. I knew he was in good, safe hands with Dr. Hanna and that he wouldn't be afraid. 

I'll survive the black cat shaped hole in my heart. So goodbye PookieSnackenburger.

Thank you for being a part of our lives.
Thank you for teaching me about what it means to be a grown-up and be selfless.
Thank you for sleeping beside my side of the bed these last few years..
Thank you for the times you didn't bite me when I stepped on you in the middle of the night. Or swooshed you off the bed when I didn't realize you were on it. 
Thank for being you – cat and friend.

I hope you somehow make it to the cat side of heaven. I think you'll love it there.

RIP PookieSnackenburger...You are gone, but will never be forgotten.

Waiting for the end to come...Wishing I had strength to stand...this is not what I had planned, it's out of my control...

Its been a sad couple of days in the Wraspir household.  My sweet Bubba - Kitty, aka Pookie, is dying.  He's been a bit under the weather for a couple of weeks now and this last week it has finally hit home. Its time for me to let him go.

Oddly enough on my way into work this morning I wanted some happy music.  I had a long night on the closet floor with Pookie (he's been in the closet for a couple of days now. There's a small cubby like place he's been curling up in. I spent some time with him last night there...the look on his face was really more like, "Lady, I'm trying to sleep. Get out."

Anyhow, the music. So I turned on the radio and flipped past some songs that just weren't happy enough or "rocky" enough.  "Waiting for the End" from LinkinPark came on. Who knew that song could be sad?

There was a Pookie sighting last night, briefly. He came down. Hopped on my lap and looked at me. I think if you look at his face it's saying he's ready.  His eyes were really dilated last night and there was something in his mannerisms that just told me that he's ready to move on to the great field of mice and what not in the sky.

The vet is scheduled to come tomorrow noon ish. I touched base with her yesterday (she checked in with me) and told her how he had been acting and she confirmed that tomorrow will be his last day.

Its very sad to me and I've cried a lot.  Last night I came to grips with this decision.  I will never be OK with this but it's the right thing to do.

He's been a great cat and has lived a very spoiled life.  I would like to come back in my next life as my own cat.  Or a cat owned by my family. 

Him at 17.

Him at barely born.



 

He'll be missed.