Not-so-little buddy

Presto is still full of pouncy kitten energy, but from some angles, he could be mistaken for an adult cat. The cooler weather is bringing out his snuggly side. And while he and Sprite still are not great friends, they can now share the couch for a nap.

bibliocat

Presto has refined literary tastes.

New toys! Close encounters!

Mom sent Presto a new toy that dangles from the doorjamb. He's having the time of his life. Sprite, so far, has managed to resist the allure.

ready to play

It's hard to take a good flash picture of Presto because he shuts his eyes when the anti-redeye blinky light comes on. Here, it just makes him look nearsighted.

Kisses!

The camera loves Presto, and Presto loves the camera.

clean bill of health

Presto had his first vet visit today and came home with a clean bill of health.

He's about six months old, the vet said, so my estimate of three months was way off. He's old enough to be neutered and will have that done next month. His teeth, ears, and coat look great. He tested negative for FIV and feline leukemia.

Most important, though, Presto is chipless. I held my breath while the tech scanned him for a microchip that would indicate someone had already claimed him, afraid I'd have to return him to his first home. But no chip was found. He'll get one when he goes in for neutering so if he's ever lost, he can be returned to me.

Presto hated the car ride to and from the vet, but did fine while he was there. He charmed the staff with friendly head bumps and did not scratch, bite, or poo on anyone. It was a good way to start the week.

kitty seems happy

My new kitty has a cheery disposition and already knows how to flirt and cuddle. He appears to be laughing and smiling in these photos. That's Sprite's toy he's playing with. She does NOT appreciate him being here.

I'm thinking of calling him Presto! because he appeared in my life as if by magic. Also, he's wearing a tuxedo like a magician on stage. What do you think?

Oops.

Oops. I accidentally adopted a kitten last night.

My friend Lisa called to tell me that some neighbors had been feeding a handsome stray, but it was time for him to find a forever home or go to the Humane Society. She invited me over to meet him, and he came home with me. I hadn't intended to adopt a new kitty for several months yet, but there this guy was, ready to pounce and play and purr in my lap. What could I do?

Sprite is not happy about the new arrival, but I hope she will remember that she's still the boss of the house.

Meanwhile, I need to figure out what the new guy's name is.

a cat tale

I'm not saying my kitty Sprite is stupid, but last night she set her own tail on fire.

I was eating ice cream on the couch and set a dollop on the coffee table for her to enjoy. She was so intent on the treat she forgot to keep her tail moving, and it lingered a little too long over a burning candle. An inch-long section of tail was aflame for a good three seconds before I managed to put it out. She didn't even notice until I started grabbing at it.

Sprite wasn't hurt, just a bit singed. And the smell of fried fur — OY! I think she was more indignant about being spritzed with Febreeze than about actually catching fire. That's my girl.

Something fishy

Close-up of Sprite with her favorite X-mess gift, a catnip fish with
crinkly fins and long tailribbons for easy carrying. It's fintastic!

blisscat

sleeping it off

Warren rests after a hard day of . . . um . . . resting. He ate well this afternoon, tried to rid himself of the blue collar (which protects his stitches from Wednesday's exploratory surgery), and held me in a snugglelock from which it took an hour to escape.

. . . and out

If ever diarrhea could be considered a welcome sight, Warren has made me very happy today.

My poor kitty started the day off right, with another visit to the vet when his feeding tube started acting less like a tube and more like 494 during rush hour: inexcusably blocked. I asked the vet to remove the tube rather than reinsert it again, as Warren had shown some interest in regular food earlier. When we got home, he loved me fiercely: rubbing cheeks, bumping heads, making biscuits, and purring so hard his little body shook. I think he was glad to be rid of that tube.

Since he ate a little but not a lot, I squeezed some more liquid diet into his mouth via syringe. About half an hour later, one of the vet's predictions came true: that the liquid diet would produce feculence that made hog farm waste seem tame. Digestive tract motility: check. Thank goodness for feline tidiness; my cleanup radius was minimal.

I let Warren out of the office this afternoon, and he's resting on his favorite chair up in the warm warm bedroom. I'm going to try to leave him alone until it's time for his next meds. All I want is for him to be comfortable. And maybe just a little more continent.

in & out

I brought Warren and his five meds and his feeding tube and his protective clown collar home from the U of M animal hospital today. When I opened his crate in the bedroom, he crept out cautiously, then came to give me affectionate head bumps. Then he promptly sneezed out his feeding tube.

I cuddled him on my lap for a while, weeping as he purred.

Then I put him back in the crate and hauled him to the local vet to have the tube replaced. He'll be sedated for the procedure, so it's another few hours before I bring him home again.

I don't think either of us can take too much more of this.

the Warren report

My kitty Warren has been knocking on heaven's door for the past week, and I haven't been blogging because I've been worried sick about him and barely able to talk about the situation without bursting into tears. But after numerous X-rays, an ultrasound, exploratory surgery, and several nights in a feline ICU, he's turning a corner. I finally get to bring him home tomorrow.

The bad news is, Warren has lymphoma, which is a cancer of the white blood cells. The good news is, it's the kind that's treatable with steroids, and we should have a couple more good years together.

Because of the inflammation caused by the cancer cells and a touch of irritable bowel disease, he's not eating on his own yet, so for a few days, I'll be feeding him a liquid diet through a tube down his nose. Gross! But, the vet assures me, very doable.

After waiting ALL DAY and finishing every scrap of work I had to distract myself, I finally got the call about half an hour ago. I'm so
relieved, I think I might throw up.

Sprite and I will finish out the evening with a few episodes of Star Trek and Buffy. And I might finally eat something myself (not through my nose).

interesting times

I got some lousy news on Friday: My department at work is being restructured, and I'm not part of the new structure. I was laid off.

GRR!

I'm not happy about it, obviously, but I have to believe bigger and better things are out there. I've had a couple good omens already. First, I got a hit on a resume I'd posted online in 2005. A recruiter for a staffing company has a gig for which I am the ideal candidate, and if we can reach an agreement about pay, we may have a winner. That could be dicey, though, since I'm asking for what I'm worth — and that's a lot.

Second, a friend invited me to a networking event this morning, and I came away with a small freelance job and a big smile. Thanks, Lisa! Maybe I should print up some business cards, just to be safe.

But the universe doesn't want me to get bored waiting for my big break. No no no! So last night I received proof that my alarm system works as it should.

Skipping to the end: everything is fine. No break-in. No theft. No threat to home, self, or pets. Only to poor Mother Media's sanity.

The alarming tale

As if getting laid off on Friday hadn't injected enough GAAAAAGH! into my life, when I got home from classes at 10:15 last night, my security alarm was bleeping madly. ALARM 21 OFFICE GLASS, it said. I rushed through the house looking for signs of an intruder. There were none.

So I freed the cats, who had been locked in my home office to sleep off the sedatives they'd received during their routine vet check-up earlier in the day. (They got glowing reports except for Sprite's prodigious waistline.) Glancing around the office, I knew immediately what had happened: an agitated Warren Peace had rattled the blinds enough to interfere with the sensor that detects problems with the window. My stupid cat activated the alarm.

Next stop: answering machine. One message from the security company, one from Mom. The calls came in around 5:00, and here it was after 10:00 when I picked them up. Crap. That's what happens when I turn off my cell phone at the T'ai Chi studio.

Anyway, the security company reported that when my alarm went off, they called the house to check on me, as per procedure. Getting no answer, they called my work number (note: must delete that one from the records) and my cell phone. Still getting no answer, they called my "in case of emergency" number, my poor sainted mother.

They also called the police, who reportedly came by, saw no trouble, and did nothing. I found no signs of a police visit.

Meanwhile, Mom called my home and cell numbers as well, and of course I did not answer. So she called my next-door neighbors. They, armed with Mr. Neighbor's handgun, did a thorough exterior inspection of the house, noted the cats locked in the office with the lights on, and correctly deduced that a cat had triggered the alarm. They called Mom back to put her mind at ease, for which I owe them an enormous debt of gratitude.

What with returning phone calls and trying to lure the cats out from under the bed, I didn't get to sleep until around midnight. And then I had to get up at 6:00 to go to that networking event. OY.

I feel bad for freaking out my mother, not to mention the cats and the neighbors. But it's nice to know the alarm system is earning its keep.

When the Chinese say "May you live in interesting times," it's not necessarily a blessing. Not immediately, anyway. Well, my times have gotten interesting. Stay tuned to see just how interesting.