"LOL very funny haha"

"LOL very funny haha"

Aside from the obvious reason this is funny, I especially like it because it reminds me of the South Park episode called "Towelie". You know, when Cartman and Towelie were arguing and he called Towelie a towel? Poor Towelie was a little high and couldn't come back with anything better than "You're a towel."

Do Cats Go To Heaven?

This month's picture in the New Yorker Cat Calendar is "Cat Heaven"...a bunch of tattered arm chairs with cats clawing them. Of course, the cats are drawn with cute little angel wings and halos. I looked at it and remarked to my coworker - "That sure is a lot of cats that made it into heaven" after which I paused, and then added "Evin won't be going to heaven. My luck he'll be stuck in purgatory so he can bug me the rest of my life." We got a chuckle out of my fate and I headed home for the day.

Evin is a great cat and has amazing spirit, but he can be really annoying when I am busy doing cat-unfriendly things like laying tile, making the bed, preparing a sandwich...the only thing he watches me do from a safe distance is get ready for work. He perches on top of the cabinet above my toilet where he can see me doing everything, including showering, but is well out of my way.

Those damn cats!

This morning I awoke at 5:00 am with a sore back and two cats (whose names I will not mention...cough...cleoandevin...cough) doing jazzercise on my bed. Evin tries to put it to music by pressing a bunch of buttons on my clock radio.

At least once a week, I feel the need to remind Evin, who's brain is about the size of an apricot, that there will never be a need for him to brush my face, chew on my hair, or turn the radio on, so he may as well stop it!

By sheer coincidence, I arrived at work with this video in my inbox:



Anyone that has cats knows exactly what it is like.

Emma Came Home!

After 9 long days, Emma came home. A miracle my Mom exclaimed.

I was sitting on my parent's porch enjoying my dinner when I heard a cat meowing. I immediately recognized the meow and said "That's Emma!". I ran down the stairs to meet her where she was just emerging from beneath a bush. I scooped her up and took her inside. I put her in my parents dining room with food, treats, and water and closed the door so she could eat in peace. After she was done, my sister took a closer look at her and noticed her eye was leaking. That is pretty normal, but one eye was infected. She had obviously lost weight, and her white paws were dirty, but otherwise she looked unharmed. We cleaned up her eye and I started brushing her. She walked away, but then I realized she was headed to her favourite brushing spot -- the ledge behind the kitchen. But, she missed the jump and that is when I knew she needed to be checked out.

It took no convincing that she needed to go to the vet but I would have paid the bill myself had there been. And there wasn't a frying pan in sight. In fact, I think my Dad was pretty pleased to see her alive. I took her out to the car so we could go to the Animal Hospital. She didn't want to go in the car, so fought back a bit -- a good sign. But, once in the car, she settled on the passenger seat. At that point, it sunk in and I began to cry. Partly out of relief for her coming home, and partly out of sadness for her having to go through this ordeal.

We got to the Animal Hospital and we checked her in. I was still a mess, but the vet techs were great. We had to sit in the waiting area but Emma didn't mind. I like to think she felt safe and knew she was in good hands. So, she calmly rested on the fleece blanket in my lap until it was time to go into an examining room. This despite a dog or two coming around. Once in the room, another several minutes passed, but she was fine to rest in the blanket on the examining table. At that time, I noticed how dirty she was. My hands were filthy from petting her. It looked like dust from a garage, so my guess is she got stuck in a garage or shed. The alternative was under a bush recuperating from being hit by a car or beat up by kids. But she would have smelled like earth and had more plant debris stuck in her fuzzy medium length fur.

The vet took a good look at her and determined she was dehydrated. He didn't think she could consume enough fluids herself to recover properly, so recommended she stay for 24-48 hours so she could get IV fluids and blood work done. He thought an x-ray would be helpful, but would leave that as an option if the fluids weren't helping or the blood work looked suspicious. I didn't like the idea of an x-ray because she would have to be sedated and the last time she was sedated she awoke with seizures.

So I paid the $690 deposit (ouch) and left her there for treatment. Mom was fine with the quote though commented how much prices had gone up since her car accident 10 years ago.

I've been dehydrated before (flu) so I know the amazing recuperative effects that fluids can have. I expect that she will look like a new kitty today. I hope to visit this afternoon.

I still can't believe she made it back in as good a condition as she was. At 15 years of age (tack on a few more years from her past injuries), you have to agree she is one tough kitty.

I didn't sleep all that well as I couldn't help but think about Emma. There were a few things that made her coming home yesterday significant. For starters, her mom (my sister Kim) was in town. Secondly, it was a blue moon yesterday. Finally, and this one is a bit of a stretch and requires that I be much more spiritual than I am -- the spirit of my brother's cat, also named Emma and was put down on Friday, helped bring this Emma home.

Regardless, we are all glad Emma is home and suspect she just used up her 8th life. Pretty good for a 15 year old (80 in people years).

No News on the Emma Front

It seems like Emma is not coming home. It is strange that no one has found her or her collar and given us a call.

As Jaime put it, she has used up many of her lives, so I am guessing she ran out this time.

On the bright side, now she doesn't have to suffer through old age, and we don't have to make the tough decision to euthanize her. I've done that twice, and as much as I believe in putting animals out of their misery early on, that doesn't make it any easier.

Evin has now started asking if he can go on sleepovers to Gwanny and Gwampas. I say "no" because he is sure to be hit by a car within minutes of getting there. Besides, I need someone to wake me up at 5:00 am (and 15-minute intervals thereafter) . Heaven forbid I sleep right through to the alarm!

Oh, and Sam doesn't need a super cute, fuzzy, young, and goofy orange cat around the house making him look even older and more crotchety than he already does.

Emma, if you are reading this -- Come Home!

Well, it seems our little Emma has gone missing. At the age of 15, she just disappeared and we fear the worst. I was the last to see her and gave her a good brushing so she would be all set for Gwanny and Gwampa's homecoming last week.

She seemed fine, so I can only imagine that something bad happened. What a poor end to such a sweet little cat. It is too bad we don't know what happened. We hope that someone will see her collar and call us. I've walked around the block a few times, and even went to check out the base of the huge tree where a bald eagle lives. No bones or cat collars...thank goodness.

Emma was a feisty, fierce, and formidable feline who weighed about four ounces. She also became the sweetest cat once my brother and I moved out. When she came in from an outing, she would talk up a storm with whomever she saw first. If you didn't acknowledge her, she would keep yammering. She was a hit at Mom's afternoon bridge.

Emma was adopted as a kitten by my sister Kim, but when Kim had to go from practicum to practicum, it was better for Emma to move to Gwanny and Gwampas. She's been coughing up hairballs on Gwampa's journals and papers ever since.

In order to live with Gwanny and Gwampa, she had to be declawed. I would agree that it is pretty harsh except that it didn't slow her down a bit. As you can see, it didn't stop her from climbing small fruit trees. And she took sole responsibility for protecting the house from the likes of Fonze who came across the fence for his regular cat nip fix. At twice her size, and with 10 sharp claws, you would think Fonze would have gotten the munchies after a cat nip session, and snacked on her ages ago.

Emma has had a few tough breaks. She was hit by a car out front on Beach Drive. We told her not to cross the street, but that didn't do her any good. She was barely alive, so my Mom took her to the vet hospital. My Dad would have driven, but he was inclined to use the frying pan to finish the job. So, my Mom took a cab.

Emma's front leg was paralyzed, but she needed to recover from her other injuries first. By the time she did, the nerves had begun to regenerate. Aside from a small twitch from time to time, she recovered completely.

And as a small kitten, she went missing for a week. We didn't find out until 7 years ago that she had been shot with a pellet gun. The recognizable hourglass shape of the pellet showed up in an x-ray she had. And when she woke up from the sedation, she had a seizure. The vet said she looked more like a 12 year old cat when she was only 8 or 9.

There is a chance Emma will come home, but it is doubtful. Emma, if you are reading this, please come home.

Random facts about Emma...in case you are still reading and don't have anywhere to be:

1. One of her nicknames is Stinkerbell...she used to wear a bell (tinkerbell), but hated being picked up...hence Stinkerbell.
2. Another one of her nicknames is Fender Face...on account of being hit in the face with a car fender.
3. Emma used to catch birds (the defenceless ones, namely old or very young). She would have the bird rammed in her mouth and would wander around the yard meowing. She was proud but dumb...as soon as we heard her, we'd rescue the bird. I figured how a declawed cat could catch a bird when I observed Evin lunging onto the bed from a high dresser -- the element of vertical surprise meant there was nowhere for the bird to go.
4. My Dad had a suitcase laid out for a trip. He awoke the next morning to finish packing when he saw muddy pawprints and fur all over his pressed dress shirts. Emma had used the clothes as a place to clean up and rest one rainy day.
5. Emma has forgiven Gwampa for wanting to finish her off with a frying pan. She sometimes sends him Father's Day cards thanking him for not hitting her over the head with a frying pan.
6. Emma was named after my Great Grandma Emma. They both happen to share birthdays (Feb 14). In many ways, Emma the cat was a lot like Great Grandma -- tough and stubborn.

Bird TV

In an effort to enhance the indoor life of my cats, I decided to get a window mounted hummingbird feeder. I had seen a hummingbird at a neighbors feeder so knew they were in the area.

I got a great little feeder at Canadian Tire and had it up in moments. Within about 24 hours, a hummingbird had spotted the feeder.



For whatever reason, he is afraid to use the feeder. He clicks noisily and hovers near the feeder which alerts the cats that something is going on so they race to the patio door and start chattering away. When the screen is open, the bird can hear them so I think this makes him more afraid. A week has gone by and the nectar looks untouched. Maybe it is too late now that the flowers are out.

I decided to add a seed feeder to the mix and picked up a window mounted feeder. Again, from Canadian Tire for less than $15.



I haven't seen any birds at this feeder, but there are seed shells starting to collect on my balcony floor.

I expect this feeder will get more action in the fall and winter when food is more scarce.

It isn't like I dropped an anvil on her face

My cats beg to be fed snacks about 800 times a day. I usually give them 5-10 kernels of their regular food. As you can imagine, I lose count at about 347. I give in because if I don't, Evin will run to the bowl every time I get up to walk. Most times, the bowl is nowhere near where I am headed so I trip over him as he dashes right in front of me.

I keep most of the food in a large Iams tin, but I have a 1/2 cup plastic Rubbermaid container which makes gauging portion size much easier. Plus, I don't have to deal with the stupid noisy tin lid nearly as often.

Last night, on trip 652 to the food dish I was opening the little container full of food when I lost my grip and dropped it. Because Cleo was at my feet looking up in anticipation, it managed to fall on her face.

As you can guess, she ran away. Not only that, she wouldn't come near me. I couldn't believe she would be so quickly and permanently traumatized by this rare event, so I picked up the food container and shook it. Normally, this brings the cats running from wherever they may be. This time, Cleo cowered under the coffee table. Even attempts to lure her back with catnip failed. All the while, Evin couldn't believe his luck at snacks AND catnip! He got two servings of each due to Cleo's new found phobia -- the cat food container.

This morning, I was able to feed Cleo her breakfast from that container, but it was pretty full so not as noisy. As I was preparing to leave, I gave them another snack and sure enough, the sound of the container shaking sent her straight upstairs and under my bed. Evin got another double-dose of snacks.

I think I need to find a new way to store the cat food. But seriously Cleo, get a grip. It isn't like I dropped an anvil on your face.

Happy Birthday Cleo...you old flea circus you!

Apparently it is Cleo's 9th birthday today. I didn't have it marked on my calendar, but Catster did and sent me an email.

I marked the occasion by giving her and Evin cat treats, and reminding her of how funny it was when she fell off the cat scratcher yesterday.

Evin inhaled his treats (you don't want to know how I know this) and then tried eating Cleo's treats. I fended him off while Cleo growled at him and finished her treats.

Cleo is probably celebrating her birthday by shedding on my couch and/or caughing up a furball.
Happy 9th Cleo!

Sign that you need to plan an intervention

So, my friends and I meet every Sunday for coffee and a stroll along Dallas Road and then through Beacon Hill park.

I've often thought it would be cool if Evin could go on walks. I think it would be fun to bring him along so he can get some fresh air and meet people. After all, he is very social. But, then I remember he is a cat. He would probably run away or get hit by a car. Sounds like what I need is a canine version of Evin.

Well, Evin's world just might open up thanks to the cat stroller!



I'm kidding. I wouldn't be caught dead pushing one of those. So, if you hear me talking about buying one (and I seem serious), plan an intervention!

Silly Cats

I've packed away my duvet and in its place is a lovely new quilt. It has proven to be a bit premature, but the warm weather will be here soon enough.

It must be laced with catnip because Cleo has gone absolutely nuts the last two nights. As I settle into bed, Cleo has taken to lunging at my feet and trying to bite or claw them to death. Any sudden or repetitive movement (like foot twitching which is pretty common) and out come 10 shards of glass and countless piercing daggers . These antics are very unusual for her and risky for me -- the quilt is quite thin so teeth/claws are no match.

Last night, Evin climbed under the covers and Cleo, who hates closed spaces, went in after him. I feared for my life. OK, not for my life, but definitely for my legs. There is no telling the carnage they could do to my legs!

I survived, but it didn't stop them from running around like village idiots for a few minutes.

Another Story

For those that don't know me, I like cats. For those that do know me, I am not a crazy cat lady.

Cleo and Evinrude are my fuzzy little lap warmers that really do make my house a warmer place to be.


So, it is rare that my alarm actually wakes me up in the morning. Most days (week days and weekends), I awake to at least one of the following:

- Claws pulling at my nose
- Paws patting my face
- Claws combing my hair
- Sandpaper licking my exposed limbs
- Ralphing
- or cats jumping, running, or leaping on the bed

It is great. I love it. Really, I do. Denial is the best remedy for all that ails you. Seriously. It is.

Then, I lie in bed for 10 - 30 minutes waiting for my alarm to go off so I can catch up on current events in 10 minutes or less.