Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 20, 2020

I Don't Often Beg...

 ...and I know I don't have many followers.  But I thought I'd put this out there in hope.

I volunteer for a group called Mountain Cats TNR.  The TNR in theory stands for "Trap, Neuter, and Return" and refers to feral cats.  Trouble is, the stray cat world isn't just composed of ferals - wild cats that will form colonies that neutering/spaying can stabilize - but is full of dumped, abandoned, and neglected cats, as well as an abundance of kittens.  And we try to care for those and find them homes.  It's all volunteers running on donations and trading off chores - trapping, scooping cat pans, feeding, watering, medicating, making vet runs, and giving love to a variety of felines as they come in, recover, then go to a forever home.  We aren't supposed to be a rescue.  But we are.

Today Mountain Cats took in a cat that is in the worst condition I've ever seen an animal outside of the horrifying videos you find on YouTube.  She's been to the vet and we're waiting on test results.  I'm surprised the vet didn't immediately say to put her to sleep, but maybe that's a ray of hope.  




That's not actually brown around her mouth - it's bright red blood.  She is nothing but skin stretched over a frail skeleton.  I'll be surprised if she lasts through tonight.  I'm trying to comfort myself with the thought that tonight at least for the first time in God knows how long she's safe, with all the food and water she needs if she can get it down, and with a soft bed to lay on.  Even if it's just to die on. As weak as she is, she is very affectionate.  She's breaking my heart.

Anyway, despite discounts, vet bills cost money.  Sometimes lots of money - I think Mountain Cats has spayed/neutered something like 400 cats over the last few years.  And that's just the spay/neuter side.  There's vaccinations, respiratory illnesses, eye infections, ear infections, worms, wounds, fleas, FIV, and this year's particular plague, panleuk, which has killed kitten after kitten despite weeks of fighting for them.  And if this little girl survives she's going to be hellaciously expensive before she leaves.

And then there's the everyday costs of litter and food.  

So if you have a few bucks you aren't doing anything with, could you throw it at Mountain Cats?  Our furrbabies would appreciate it.

Monday, September 16, 2019

I Don't Have To...

...feed the cats.  The inside ones.  The outside ones.  The fosters. Or clean their pans.


Or juggle the exhausting puppy and his needs around everybody else's while being scared to death because I have no idea what to do with such a big, energetic puppy.


Or get to an appointment.  Although I'm sort of looking  forward to the next psuedo-chemo:  it's my last treatment and I get to ring the big bell as I leave.

I think I've tried to return to a normal life too quickly.  I took on too much too fast. Got so exhausted.  But now palmettos, the Gulf Stream, fabulous food within walking distance, and the little bit of paradise known as Folly Beach, SC, gets to work its magic.


And I finally got to see the Hunley.  All these years and I've never been able to see it before. It was just a legend when I first came to that gem called Charleston, SC. 

Now excuse me while I work through local beers while watching the surf roll in.


And, oh, there's this little Caribbean place just down the street that makes astounding posole.


I had that yesterday.  I may do their tacos for dinner tonight.



Saturday, March 17, 2018

It Ain't All About St. Patrick!

Today is also the feast day of St. Gertrude of Nivelles, a 7th century abbess who is patron saint of cats, cat lovers, and gardens.


Now go back to your green beer.

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

I Almost Forgot...

That it was election day.  I was laying in bed this morning and thinking I didn't have anyplace I had to go today.  Yeesh.  Maybe my brain got so tired of the ads that it blocked it out.

I know I'm slow.  Others have already posted about how great the Saturday blogshoot was.  It really was.  Those of you who were not here should have been.  But note for the future, and I'm sorry we didn't think to warn ahead of time - there are really only a couple hotels in town that I'd stay in.  We have a casino and track.  There's a lot of rental by the hour in some of those nearby hotels.  At least that's what I suspect - that's what they look like and I've heard rumors.  And there's the one where there was a murder.  Ick.

I was too busy watching to take pictures but I did get this one - pin shoot with flintlock.  It was great to be able to finally shoot a flintlock but unfortunately my arms are way to short - I'd have to have the stock cut down to use one.  It's interesting - black powder doesn't kick so much as push.


Along with her flintlock, Nancy brought a gift for The Crazy Cat Lady.



Catnip. Heh.  First comes the licking until soggy.


Then comes the rolling around and waving paws in air in a most undignified manner.  Blackberry is such a dignified old lady.  Until catnip gets involved.


Sunday was spent cleaning out old dresser, getting it out of room, and getting the new, much older dresser into place.  I had lots of help.  What's another 9 lbs of cat while moving an already really heavy dresser?



The new old stuff is factory made, around 100 years old, and oak.  Nothing special as antiques go - they've had repairs and are worn, but it was love at first sight despite the warts.   And they have half the space in them as the previous junk accumulators.  It really made me realize how much more stuff we own now than 100 years ago.  And a good deal of what I pulled out either went into the trash or to Good Will.  I found myself wondering why I had so many pairs of socks, why I had 8 pairs of jeans when I only wear a couple pairs between laundry days, and why I never threw that raggedy stuff away.



Gotta get some art on the walls, though.  And I'll be glad to replace that carpet next year.  It is so done.

And the final project of the weekend - start bringing the 2 outdoor cats slated for neutering soon in at night to see how they adapt to indoor life.  They have to be kept isolated from the other cats, but I have a spare bedroom to use.  All went well.  There reaction was "Hey! Dinner!" and "Pet me now!" and they made themselves right at home.  They've both been trying to get in my door for a while - they obviously are indoor cats that have been put out.  Because the room is small they'll just come in at night until surgery.  And once their blood tests come back clean, they'll move to another house where they will be spoiled and have plenty of room to roam.


They other cats saw me take them in and there was much curiousness.


Soon off to vote.  I'm so glad we still have paper ballots in this state.  I'm hearing call after call into a MD radio station from people who watched their Republican vote be switched to Democrat as they tried to vote. Never Democrat to Republican.  Wonder why that is?


Thursday, February 23, 2012

Sigh

Another run to the vet's last night, another $100.  Granted, that's way less than the last 2 trips.  But on the way I noticed an occasional faint whiff of burning rubber. Another couple hundred $$ today for replacement of worn out belts on the suv.  Between cat and vehicle I could have bought a Glock and ammo over the last month.

Perry's ailment is a weird one.  The vet says she sees it fairly often - as the days begin to lengthen some young male cats develop bladder problems.  It acts like an infection but isn't - pain, constant pressure to pee, blood in the pee.  All that can be done is treat the symptoms - iv fluids to keep the urine from forming crystals, injections of strong pain killers to help with the bladder spasms, and now we are trying a prescription food for urinary tract problems.  In the meantime he paces and meows and dribbles pee on everything.  Blu has reacted to the stress of the situation by barfing all over everything.  And although I carefully mixed the new food with the old so that the change wouldn't upset tummies, they like the new food so well that they picked it out of the bowl and left the other.  End result being stomach upset and Blackberry is now also barfing all over the house.

I woke up this morning with a growling belly and a hungry headache courtesy of yesterday's Ash Wednesday fast.  Before I could get out of bed, Perry jumped up, slid under the covers, then crawled up in my arms.  He stretched his paws out and gently patted my face.  Then, after a couple nose licks, he nuzzled my cheek, and with his silky soft head nestled against my face, he fell fast asleep.  I was starving.  I had a headache.  And it was so lovely that I laid there with him for a half hour, unwilling to disturb his nap.

It's as bad as having kids.

Monday, January 9, 2012

Yaawwwnnn...

I've been around, but when not working busy with other stuff.  A good friend's mother died unexpectedly last Thursday, and my friend and her hubby, saturated with all the stuff the aftermath of such things requires, stopped by last night.  They just needed someone other than family to talk to for a while.  So we talked about whatever they wanted to talk about and killed rather more than a bottle of wine and they left just before midnight. 

Seemed I had just crawled into bed when my cats were all climbing all over me and demanding breakfast.  It was getting light so I staggered down and filled the bowls.  At which point my head had cleared enough to realize that the light wasn't coming from the east.  Moonlight.  Flippin' moonlight from the mostly full moon.  It was 4 am.

I am SO too old for this...

Friday, July 15, 2011

Stereotypes

After a quick comment at Murphy’s Law, I chewed on political correctness some more, and I thought I’d write a bit about Perry.  Both of them.

Perry was about 8 weeks old when he arrived November before last.  In a moment of temporary insanity – I already had two older adult cats – I took him in.  He was a tiny coal black fuzzball with big round amber eyes, so frantic that he couldn’t stop mewing even when trying to eat and drink.  He refused to be separated from me; if I put him down he climbed right back up my leg to crawl back into the crook of my arm.  Ten hours after he arrived I found myself racing to the emergency vet with an obviously critically ill kitten who was unconscious, breathing shallow and rapid, and had a raging fever.  They told me that if I hadn’t brought him in he would not have survived the night.  His fever was so high that it was causing neurological problems; his little body was twisting and contorting from the effects of it.  They gave me very little hope that he would live.   But I have a firm belief that animals, particularly companion animals, are a gift from God.  I had invited this little guy into my life and in doing so accepted responsibility for him, so to their surprise I said “Do whatever needs to be done” and handed them my credit card.  They never did figure out what, beyond pneumonia, was wrong.   It was two days before they would guardedly tell me that they thought he would live.  On the third day they told me he could go home; the kitten that had been so desperately ill was literally climbing the walls of his cage, IV still hanging out of his leg.

A name was needed for his records, of course, and so I thought a bit and said “Perry, because he’s black and right now he looks like a million dollars to me.”

That went right by the staff, of course.  Most people wouldn’t recognize the name Lincoln Perry.  But older folks and movie buffs would probably recognize this fellow:





His screen name was Stepin Fetchit.  Born in Florida in 1902, he grew up in a country in which Jim Crow was well established, and began his show business career as the popularity of the Ku Klux Klan was soaring.  He was 12 years old and working as a boot black when he ran away and joined a carnival, and from there he steadily developed a career as a singer and dancer.  By age 20 he was a vaudeville artiste and the manager of a traveling carnival show.  His Hollywood break came in 1927 when he created “The Laziest Man in the World” character in order to stand out from other actors auditioning for a role in In Old Kentucky.   Arriving for the audition, he acted confused and as if he didn’t know where he was, and it won him the role.   The character Stepin Fetchit made Perry the first black millionaire and the first black man to receive a credit in a film.  He appeared in 54 films, has a star in the Hollywood Walk of Fame, received an NAACP Image Award, and was inducted into the Black Filmmaker’s Hall of Fame. 

History is what it is.  Closing our eyes, sticking our fingers in our ears, and singing “La la la!” loudly will neither change what has happened in the past or prevent it from happening again.  Art, whether paintings, plays, movies, or radio programs reflects its time and culture.  Stepin Fetchit may seem a negative stereotype to some today, but Lincoln Perry was functioning within a particular time and place.  He parlayed the culture of his time into an opportunity to do things no other black person had done before.  He pulled himself up in an environment where a black man being a boot black for all of his life was more likely than a black man being a film star.  An intelligent, erudite man who also had a regular newspaper column, Perry was a pioneer and a leader, and without him and others like him, there would be no Sidney Poitier, no Laurence Fishburne, no Will Smith – he paved the way for black film stars.  To ban the image he created would be to denigrate his accomplishments.  And it won't erase Jim Crow or the KKK from our history.

Instead of erasing history we should be looking at it closely.  We should look at cultural representations of the past and think about them, reflect on them, take warnings from them, learn from them, build on them.  Ms. Liang doesn’t like what she believes to be a negative Asian stereotype?  Perhaps her energy would be better spent opposing the negative stereotypes so popular today.  I’d be curious to know if Ms. Liang and those who signed her petition would have been so actively engaged if, instead of  “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” with its Mr. Yunioshi, the film was “The DaVinci Code”, with its evil monk? 


Or if it had been any other Hollywood product of the last few decades that stereotype people of faith as evil and/or ignorant?  Or perhaps this latest publicly funded “art” exhibit:



During budget debates few months ago, Jesse Jackson, Jr., beating the drum of “The Republicans want to kill old people and starve children”, stated that one of the reasons he opposed defunding Planned Parenthood was that it would prevent his constituents from having access to abortions.  This, to me, was a jaw dropper.  If that isn’t a negative stereotype I don’t know what is – a largely black constituency dependent on Federal money not for food or shelter or medication but for an end to one more black life in a community already decimated by abortion.   Anybody closely watching Stepin Fetchit’s sly shambling and mumblings realizes that Stepin rarely actually Fetchits.  He usually wins, frustrating his “opponent” into doing it themselves.  He outsmarts the white “master” time and time again.   I can’t for the life of me understand how Mr. Jackson’s constituents win by acting out his stereotype:





I suppose I'm a racist:  I laugh at the antics of both Perrys, understanding the whole time that they are masters of manipulation who are actually running the show.  That Lincoln Perry found it necessary to build a specific type of character in order to become successful in a white world can be reflected on as a cautionary tale about forcing people into specific molds before we accept them.  And the furry Perry who lives in my house still looks like a million dollars to me.