Weekend check-in

We got a dreaded phone call about 12:15 last night about Mason and how he needed surgery immediately; things weren't looking good. After a lot of sweat and stress, they called back half an hour later and said he looked better and they were holding off. Phew! Today he's doing better, but he'll have to be there a bit still. Argh! I'm missing my kitty.

We're trying to get as much moved today as we can but lordy, it's stressful. We've gotten a few loads over and have a few more to go. We're going to take the cat over tonight and let her wander while we do some unpacking. I'm not unpacking entirely, since I'm hoping we really won't be there too long and we'll be back in the midwest.

In happier news, I wanted to share another of my favorite poems. I love Jane Kenyon, and it was this poem that introduced me to her. In 11th grade, we had to do an obscene number of presentations -- which ultimately was good for me -- but one of them was about Thoreau's Walden. We had to choose a poem to recite and tie into our memorization of the famous lines of his piece. I fell in love with this one and tied it into the story of butterfly woman, who lived in the giant redwoods in California.

Killing the Plants 

That year I discovered the virtues
of plants as companions: they don't
argue, they don't ask for much,
they don't stay out until 3:00 A.M., then
lie to you about where they've been....

I can't summon the ambition
to repot this grape ivy, of this sad
old cactus, or even to move them out
onto the porch for the summer,
where their lives would certainly
improve. I give them
a grudging dash of water – that's all
they get. I wonder if they suspect

that like Hamlet I rehearse murder
all hours of the day and night,
considering the town dump
and compost pile as possible graves....

The truth is that if I permit them
to live, they will go on giving
alms to the poor: sweet air, miraculous
flowers, the example of persistence.

A long Friday and Saturday

My poor little Mason has been sick the last couple of days, throwing up all the time. Last night, we took him to an emergency vet to get him checked out. The techs at this place treated him well, but we didn't think the vet was giving him good options besides just getting an xray (read: $$$). We took him home over night and watched him since he was acting so much better at the vet. 

After he continued being sick, we brought him back in early this morning. The tech knew right away what was wrong -- and it wasn't what they suggested last night. We were immediately told that this was an emergency situation, and among hearing the diagnoses and the problems, we were confronted with a bill the price of a semester's tuition.

We talked it over and went ahead with it. There were a few different potential outcomes, from an overnight and some fluids/iv and medication to a full out surgery complete with anesthesia. Of course, since I'm not employed and Erik makes just enough to pay rent and groceries, we're less than thrilled; however, Mason's my baby and still a very young cat. We'll figure it out.

When we left the vet, I lost it. Being confronted with both the scary news and the scary bill at once is terrifying. 

However, our luck changed after we got home. We decided to go grab lunch to get our minds off it, and on the way there, we got a call from the vet that he was doing amazingly well after she did the first (read: less expensive and scary) testing. I had called home to talk with my mom and apparently one of her cats had the same condition which made me feel a little better (read: we're not bad cat owners). So now knowing he didn't need the surgery was awesome.

I just hung up again with them and he's apparently eating now and doing very, very well. Thank the lords, right? What a scary weekend, with our plans now entirely in the air. 

If all continues going well -- and the vet who helped us this time was very optimistic -- he can come home soon. Even though he's been out of the house only about 10 hours, we miss him, our little butter ball. 

This American Life.

I think I've admitted my addiction a few times, but in case you missed the memo, I have a problem with taking photos of my cats. And why not? I don't have children nor a job, and, well, digital photos are free to take. Plus, since my cats talk and blog (he's a little behind on it, but, he's been busy), it's only natural I want to make sure I capture them at their finest.

About a month ago, Erik and I came into a windfall known as our tax refund. I exaggerate, of course, about the windfall, but we figured it was enough to splurge $25 on a kitty condo for their cat escapades. What a great ROI we've experienced, too.

With the spring in full bloom here in Central Texas, it was only natural for us to pull out the bird feeder, too. Last fall, we had a regular pair of love bird cardinals, a handful of bluejays, and the sparrows. We've had our romps with the raccoon, too, but that's a story for another day. But with the spring and the bluebonnets and the baby cardinals also comes a new patio friend: Mr. Squirrel.

And boy, do I love Mr. Squirrel.

First and foremost, I love squirrels, period. After living in the most shady housing project on the campus of Cornell College (and by shady, I mean THE BEST, may it rest in pieces), I became good friends with a few funkified squirrels. There was the all black squirrel, which we gave a name and subsequently forgot. Then there were the regular fair weather squirrel friends who came when they knew there was food to be had. And then there was my favorite: the one who would bark non-stop on my fire escape at ALL hours. My roommate and I would bark back, naturally, but it was then that I came to really appreciate the fact that squirrels are flippin' hilarious animals. The darn thing was always mad at me for living quite the life up in section 8 while he had to fight with the other squirrels for a piece of the pie.

Well, in a moment of brilliance on my part (I say with no shame) I moved kitty condo from its residence beside the cat food bowl to in front of the patio doors. And boy, the investment returns went up, up, up!

Fast forward to two days ago. Two cats lounging like they would in the condo are suddenly confronted by Mr. Squirrel. And Mr. Squirrel is a talker. And the cats are also talkers. Hilarity ensues, naturally.

Hours of entertainment, digital memories, and all thanks to a little $25 investment. Thanks America!

(No, your eyes don't deceive you. I still have a pumpkin from Halloween AND lights from Christmas up on the patio. I'm a little bitter Erik won't let me keep the lights on, but I compromised in being able to keep them up).