I let the kittens out of their room to have a break while I built the cat tree. They saw the parts and got all excited! Each kitten had to sniff-test everything before they got bored and ran into the bathroom to rip the towels off the holders ('cause it's FUN).

I read the directions. I only needed ONE tool. How hard is this gonna be to build? Piece of cake! I just needed to find a 7/16" wrench (though I had to look up WHAT a wrench looked like online, first!).

This is not bad at all. I just have to screw THREE legs into the platform that has FIVE holes in it. Okay there's a clue here. Not all the holes look the same. Two do not have threads in the hole, so they must not be for the legs?!

I screwed down the legs, but they didn't fit tight to the base and I was worried I'd strip the screws, so I did the best I could. I know I'm going to use bolts on the opposite end of each cedar post, to connect it to another platform. I'm thinking this will give the cat tree the rigidity it needs. I thought it was weird that the bolts were driven into the bottom of each post, along with a tag, reminding whatever fool was building this thing that yes, THIS is the bolt you need.

Why isn't the bolt in a NICE PLASTIC BAG? Why is the FOUR HUNDRED MILE LONG BOLT in the end of the post? I use the wrench, not sure which end of it, to get the first of THREE bolts out. I turn it. The post turns, but the bolt does not. The post is ROUGH cedar, so my hands are going to get full of splinters if I hold it tightly.

I get a wash cloth to protect my hands, grab the post and give the bolt a turn. FINALLY it budges a QUARTER of a TURN. WHAT LUNATIC PUT THE BOLT INTO THIS POST? Was it a sister with PMS, too? I hope a woman would have more sense. This f-ker was in there so TIGHT that the best I could do was do quarter turns, even stopping every so often to MEASURE how much of the damn bolt had come out of the damn post, to see if I was ALMOST DONE. It got to 1 3/4" and I took a break. I read my book for awhile. I played with the kittens. My hands hurt and I was already getting a knot in my neck. I was not going to give up. I would just go slow.

I had no choice in the matter. My only speed was SLOW. I got up and went back and tried again. This time I discovered that being fat is an advantage. I could hold the post with my left hand, press the post against my stomach to keep the bloody thing from turning, then use my right to unscrew the damn bolt.

It worked.

It took an hour to get the three legs put on the cat tree. Just about that time, Sam came home. He must have either remembered I was having PMS or took drugs, because he came into the bedroom, saw what I was doing and offered to help get it finished up. He was nice. Something was wrong. Maybe he knocked off a piece with a Mistress! Of course! That was it! Instead of going to the Store, he shagged a cheap floozy! I'd have to check the fridge and pantry to make sure he really went to the store! I didn't say anything, but I simmered, waiting for further clues.

The rest of the assembly was very easy-of course, because Sam showed up. So no one will believe what a beyatch it was to get those bolts off! My biceps knew better, plus I swore I had a splinter just over my belly button.

The kittens gathered around to inspect the new cat tree before it was delivered to their very lonely and bored Mama.

Sam moved the cat tree for me while I stood in the bathtub, holding Cupid in my arms, waiting for the next fight to begin. We were both being very careful to use as few words as possible and to just get the job done so we could separate again until the next mating season would draw us back together.

I placed Cupid on her new cat tree. She gave it a sniff and jumped off it. Great. Another wise expenditure of funds I don't have.

She came right back, jumped up and begin to investigate. I scratched my fingers against the nice, tall sisal post to get her attention. Right away she grabbed it, dug her claws in deep and stretched out her back. It must have felt good to her since there is nothing soft in the bathroom she can scratch.

She posed pretty for a few photos. At first, not sure what to think about this thing.

I hoped she would warm up to it and in a few minutes of me petting her, she began to relax and enjoy her new hangout spot.

It made me forget I was hormonal to see Cupid enjoying herself. Although there's little room for me to sit down with her, at least during the many hours she's alone, she can get up high enough to see out the window and scratch and nap on a number of different platforms.

I counted my blessings that I got that cat tree built without killing anyone and that Sam and I had an unspoken truce. I would go back to the bedroom and read while the kittens played. Sam would play his guitar in the basement. Cupid would enjoy her cat tree. All of us alone, but somehow still together, under the same roof. Now we just had to wait for all this nonsense to pass and for life to settle back down again.

Update: Groceries WERE purchased. No floozies were had. Cupid enjoys the out-of-bounds, brand new, cat bed that's on the top of the dryer. So far she doesn't hang out on the cat tree unless I'm in the room. Hmpf.

It's not my fault I get PMS. I didn't go online and order a 12-pack of the “Super-Beyatch 2010 Kit.” You know, the one with “extra Rage flavored” tablets?

I get PMS. Some times it's REALLY bad. I think it's PMDD, but since I'm going insane at the time, it's tough to do any research when all I want to do is slit my wrists, cry, get mad about things that only usually annoy me, watch chick flicks, overeat carbs, or do all of those things at the same time.

As a Public Service, I notify Sam a few days ahead to watch out. I do this every single month. Every single month he seems to FORGET to steer clear of me during this malström and gets pissed at me when I start to get pissy.

Yesterday we had to run some errands. Before we even left the house, Sam noticed we'd gotten a big shipment by the front door. I was delighted to see that Cupid's new Cat Tree had arrived! The box was too huge to schlep into the house so I suggested we cut it open and take the parts into the house and leave the box in the garage to take to out to be recycled later. So Sam stepped up and started ripping the box apart. Intent on being helpful, he grabbed at the contents of the box as I had already started to do. I hit some of his fingers and he recoiled back, shouted, then gave me a REALLY nasty look. Well my friends, that was it.

There goes the switch. KAH-CHONG! (Yes, that's the sound it makes. Trust me.) The PMS I had been trying so hard to avoid went from a simmer to a boil. I thought; “If he hadn't been trying so hard to be a Boy Scout (push me out of the way), we could have just gotten this done without the drama!” Now I was mad. He was mad. The tension only got worse as I drove (safely and not insanely) to the Bakery.

In trying to avoid things going more postal, I said that I didn't feel like we were getting along very well and that I thought we should forget doing the other errands and just go back home. Well, that just pissed Sam off even more, but what was I to do? I knew that at any moment I was going to lose control, drive into a tree, screaming all the while; “I TOLD YOU I WAS GOING TO HAVE PMS. I TOLD YOU. DID YOU LISTEN TO ME, EVER?!!!!SEE? THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR NOT PAYING ATTENTION! WHY DIDN'T YOU STAND NEAR ME IN THE BAKERY? DO I SMELL BAD? YOU HATE ME, DON'T YOU!”

So we got home. I took off my coat, trying to be calm. Sam walked in the door, got his car keys and turned around and curtly said; “I'm going to the store.”

You have GOT to be kidding me! We didn't even HAVE to go to the store. So I offer up the shopping list and manage not to rip his head off. All I could do was think what a jerk he was for putting a bigger rift between us while I'm really trying NOT to do or say a thing. It's the only way to prevent Armageddon. 100% avoidance of each other until it passes!

I decided I was going to build the stupid cat tree for Cupid. I told myself I would go slow and if I got upset, that I would stop. I saw the video about how to build the cat tree on Drs. Foster Smith's web site. It looked super easy. I can do this. I do not need help!

RIGHT???!!!

Last night Sam and I did the last leg (pardon the pun) of a puppy transport. I was looking forward to it, until I saw the weather report-snow, sleet, rain, dangerous road conditions throughout the state. Oh boy. I was having one of those “what have I done?!” moments!

The drive began with heavy snow. The transport was an HOUR ahead of time and I was grateful for it still being light out when we left. The roads were slushy and slippery, but once we hit the Interstate, it improved somewhat. The traffic backed up, then opened up, then backed up again. Traffic Reporters call this “rubber banding” I call it annoying.

We got to Danbury a few minutes late. The sky had grown dark. I could barely see into the two stuffed crates. Where there really animals in there? Oh yes...looked like four black dogs, two per crate. They whined softly as we moved them from one car to our own. I placed one carrier next to me in the back seat, so I could hold the puppies as Sam drove.

There were only two problems: 1) I could NOT open the damn crate, 2) there was a BIG NOTE saying NOT to take the puppies out of the crate unless absolutely necessary and that doing so could risk their health and that did YOU WANT TO BE LIABLE FOR THE DOGS DYING because you are carrying God knows what disease on your coat, shirt, person and it could spread to the puppies???!

So all I could do is stick my fingers in the cage when they really got loud so they could nibble on my “contaminated” fingers. I couldn't even SEE the dogs. I tried to get a few photos, which was the only way I saw them at all.

The next hour was spent trying to “gently” (passive-aggressively) remind (nag) Sam to drive carefully (not get us killed) because the temps were hovering around 34-35°F and he was driving too fast and I was feeling very anxious (sick to my stomach and, well, anxious).

We dropped off the puppies with Liz, the lady from the rescue group that was taking them. Since our drop off location was The Chowder Pot IV (that would be the Roman numeral “4”, though “intra venus” would have been more appropriate description-which we discovered later)

The Chowder Pot IV or CPIV, is an old by-the-highway sort of pit stop restaurant that's been around “forever.” It's next to a highway overpass and flanked by darkened buildings that sell light fixtures during the day. The place is in a black hole, to be honest, but what the heck. It was 7pm, both of us were hungry and needed a break from the white-knuckle drive. It wasn't snowing, just raining, so we thought we could take the time to eat. Cue ominous music here...

The interior is like so many I've seen before-recreating a New England-y, Yankee, Olde-y, Ship Interior-y, dimly-lit-to-hid-the-tattered-appearance style. With heavily varnished wooden tables and wooden planks, mounted fish and neon signs to remind us to enjoy a cappuccino or an espresso! This place was on the Travel Channel, I think or Food Network, so I thought it would be okay.

Maybe I'm old and my mind has faded or maybe someone paid off the Host of the TV show or...I dunno but...I ordered some clam chowder. A classic. It was a cold night. Perfect for some GOOD, yummy, chowder. Sam ordered some, too.

Quickly served and still hot, the chowder was VERY thick, almost too thick, yes, there is such a thing as too thick chowder. I tasted a big chunk of potato, then another, then another. There was a weird aftertaste. Was it shot of wine, which is commonly used in clam chowder? Was it bacon? The dreaded and all-hated celery? Nope. Drain cleaner? Dunno? Something was not right. Where were the CLAMS? Oh, there was one, two, ...nope..that was it. Two tiny clams in the non-clam-tasting, borax flavored chowder. Yecch.

This would be a good time to eat a bit of bread to kill the taste in my mouth.

This is the bread. I called it “Spooge Bread.” YES, it was SHINEY and WET. Why? I do not know. I touched it. It was slimey. Sam touched it and bravely licked his finger. He said it was sweet. So maybe there was a sugar (yecch) glaze on the bread? Sam sawed and I do mean SAWED off a small piece. As he tried to cut into the bread, the entire lump was flattened. It was so tough he could barely get a chunk off it. I watched him as he took one for the Team and had a bite. He said it was “Okay, but weirdly sweet and kind of gross.”

He handed me a small piece which I took out of desperation. It was just as Sam described and no, it did not get the weird soup flavor out of my mouth.

I had some salad that was drowned in Balsamic vinegar. It was fine. It had a lone slice of cucumber, which I cherished.

Next up...LOBSTER!

I didn't get my Lobster-fix last year as we did not to go Maine or go anywhere to eat Lobster locally, so I thought, “why not?” Ha ha ha ha! Why am I an idiot?

First, I should have ordered it steamed, but I'm a carb-fiend so I got it stuffed. It arrived looking very nice. It even came with lemon wedges on the side and drawn butter and I got to wear a bib and use tools to crack apart the exoskeleton. There were green flakes of something all over the dish, lobster, stuffing. Maybe it was just grass, but obviously the person got a C- on the garnish portion of their cooking school finals.

I nibbled at the stuffing. It was very dry, but okay. There were some recognizable chunks of shrimp in it. Then I got to work on the lobster. It wasn't cooked very well. Funny it should be that way since they are KNOWN for their lobsters and to serve it with basically soupy, raw claws seems pretty unlikely to me, but yet, there it was. Yes, I blame the baking. That may have been the reason. My first bite did not take me to that blissful taste bud nirvana. Instead it was OK, maybe a bit mooshie, so I picked at the stuffing, hoping it would kill the ever-present Chowder fumes, if nothing else.

I did my best to enjoy the dinner (stuff my face), but between the weird flavor battle going on in my mouth and the fear that we might have to drive home on icy roads, I figured I'd better just finish up quick so we could get the heck out of there.

The drive home went all right (I only nagged Sam to slow down about four times). Sam declared he had “dibs” on the bathroom when we got home (got the “trots”). I felt bloated (nothing new), and was determined to brush my teeth the second we got into the house. That bad taste was driving me crazy.

We each went to our respective bathrooms. I brushed and brushed, flossed and gargled. Nothing would get that taste out of my mouth. Sam stayed in the bathroom with the fart fan raging. I didn't dare go any where near him.

Sam recovered well, but I did not. I ate two, then two more tiny slices of bread to absorb the funk that died in my mouth. Did not work! What in the blazes did they put in that damn Chowder? I was considering taking a mouthful of clumping cat litter to see if it would suck out the funk!

I knew the only solution was to either go to sleep and hope that it would go away after the morning tooth-brushing or cut my tongue out, which would be good to do, initially, but bad to do because I would never taste fudge brownie or garlic (not at the same time), again.

I decided to watch CNN (again!!!) to see if there were any updates on the situation in Haiti and to try to get my mind off the evil taste situation going on in my mouth. Sam and I both stared dreamily at the TV until 1:30AM. I grew tired of breathing in my own fumes. Sam's stomach had stopped gurgling, so we went to sleep.

So ends yet another neurotic day in the life of your black stretchy pants laden Hostess. And yes, the taste DID go away this morning. I think. Wait...hmmm...

P.S. I'm taking FIVE of the foster cats to the Vet in the MORNING! Insert obligatory curse word here:________________ More on that tomorrow!

Really. Will these cats EVER GET BETTER? It's been almost a MONTH. You think they'd be all set by now and this morning little Blitzen was getting SICKER AGAIN! Not only that, but Dancer and Donner are both having eye issues that never seem to GO AWAY. I am so PISSED right now. This is so frustrating. I don't even KNOW if any medications would help these cats, yet it seems like I'm throwing everything there is at them!

I started Blitz on Zithromax (I think that's what it is)...this will be the third antibiotic I've tried. His left eye is irritated again and this is after not getting meds for a DAY. That's it. ONE DAY. He's snotty and coughing and sneezing. I don't get it. I have given them all their meds 2 or 3 times a day, 5 or more meds for over THREE WEEKS!!! I get more and more meds in tubes, bottle, pills, pastes, yet nothing is getting them well. They're all growing and the bigger they are, the tougher it will be to get them homes.

I am at the freaking out stage! I am about to get these cats to another Vet, too. Sorry, but there's gotta be something that's getting overlooked or I'm doing something wrong and I need help figuring out what it is. Maybe each kitten needs their OWN meds, instead of sharing them? I try to keep everything clean, but I could be making it worse. I just don't know. At least they are all eating well and bouncing around. I'm very grateful for that, but...

...Com'on guys, GET BETTER!!!!!!!

I'm sorry to globally answer everyone's questions/concerns in a post, but hopefully this will cover most of it.

Sam has his own plate of problems. Tomorrow he has to have a root canal and his mom just had very minor, elective surgery, but she is 80 and is anything minor when you're that age? I don't know what else is going on since, we're not talking. He's obviously pissed at me for being short with him because I'm stressed out of my mind, but he has a very LOW tolerance for the slightest wrong look or sigh on my part. Yes, part of it is my fault, but not all of it.

I promise everyone I am not going to do anything to hurt myself, other than what I can't help-not eating right, not sleeping well and stress hurt me, but you know what I mean.

Today, I discovered I was an idiot (again) for locking Donner in the dog crate to keep her from feeding on Cupid. When I came back into the room I realized she had dumped the water bowl ALL over the crate and herself, then she basically rolled herself in clumping cat litter!!! I grabbed her and took her to the bathroom that I had just spent a few hours scrubbing, and put her in the sink. She was covered with litter and that shit is tough to get off a kitten. I know. I should have used non-clumping litter. I know!!! Ugh...

Donner was wriggling around so I scruffed her. She looked up at me and my rage evaporated. How the Hell could I get bent out of shape when this little kitten needed me? I just focused on the task, not piled it up on my pity pile. I got her as clean as I could. I even stopped to let her catch her breath. Her heart was racing so fast I got scared. I continued on with pulling the clumps off her fur while it lodged deeply under my fingernails.

Donner was really good about the bath, over all, and when I was done, I cranked up the space heater in the foster room so she could dry out. I held her and she shivered. She sat on my chest. I could feel her cold, damp paws on my skin. I rubbed her more with the towel, then held her side to my mouth and exhaled my warm breath onto her. She slowly stopped shaking, so I brushed her as she groomed herself. She pressed against my face and purred. I let her sit on me, tucked under my chin(s) for a good hour until she was nice and dry and warm again.

I realized I was falling in love with this little girl and feeling that helped me soften enough to keep on going.

Yes, “this too shall pass-” one of my Mother's favorite sayings. It's true. One day it will be a year later and these kitties, I hope, will all be in their forever homes and I will still be doing rescue.

While I would love someone to come and rescue ME, there is no way to do that. Jennifer taking Comet and Rudy helps tremendously. Now that their room is cleaned up, tomorrow I should have some time to focus on other things in my life. Hopefully, in time, I WILL go away on a nice vacation and get out and have some real fun, but right now I have to continue hunkering down and find a way to see this through.

It sure helps a Hell of a lot to get ALL the supportive, helpful and sincere comments from all of you! It's very humbling to me and I honestly don't feel like I deserve it. Everyone has problems, sadness, troubles in their life. I'm no different. As much as all of you would like to help me, know, too, that I would like to give it all right back-the love, the support, the compassion. You guys deserve it in droves.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I can't believe it's been almost two weeks since the cats arrived. All the joy and good wishes for their future are on hold with no end in sight. These cats are so sick, it's terrifying me. None of us have ever seen such sick animals for such a long duration. The number of medications each cat gets grows daily. Also, one cat will improve, another gets worse, but they get better or worse in different ways. One is snotty, one's eyes are suddenly inflamed, then vice versa. I can't even predict who is going to get what, next. The Vet says it can be WEEKS for things to resolve. WEEKS! Only Comet and Rudy might be coming out of it, though Rudy is shockingly still snotty after two full weeks of meds. The one bright spot is that Comet gained a POUND in 12 days!!!! She looks more like a cat, instead of skin and bones.

Rudy, looking much improved, but sounds like heck, still.

I've been too busy to take any decent photos, but here's one I shot this morning. Dancer didn't look bad yesterday, then this morning, this is how she looked. I made yet another run to the Vet, every day this week now...to pick up more meds. I'm so fed up and angry and frustrated. I need them to get BETTER ALREADY!!

Dancer. Just gave her new eye drops. Hope they help her. She is playful and eating well.

And poor Blitzen, who once was the most beautiful kitten I'd ever seen-now he's a shell of his former self. His once sparkling blue eyes are pale and runny, staining his cheeks. He was literally foaming and bubbling at the mouth. He needs more than I can provide for him, so he's been admitted to the Vet's isolation boarding facility. I can't tell you how deeply this KILLS ME to see these little guys suffering so badly. I know I have to see this through, but I'm not sure I can do it.

My little guy, Blitzen, a shadow of his former self.

This is how Blitzen looked about 10 days ago. Can you believe this is the SAME kitten? Now you know why I'm heartbroken.

Last night I packed Comet and Rudy up, along with their meds and a chart I designed so Jennifer could figure out how to dispense everything and when. It took two hours to pull everything together. I had just enough time after getting home from the Vet, to get it done. I am not getting anything done for myself, my work, my home, just cats and Vets. I am VERY GRATEFUL that Jennifer took these guys. They will get a MUCH nicer place to live and the attention and care I could not provide. They were getting the basics and that's about it. With them gone, I will have a bit more time for myself, once I scrub down their room and wash all the linens they used.

This is JUST for TWO CATS. I am dealing with FIVE CATS worth of MEDS. You can see the charts I made for Jennifer on the far right. The white boxes indicate how often the meds are given out.

And through all of this, now Sam and I are not talking. He stays in his office downstairs and I stay in mine. When I enter the kitchen, he leaves it. When I sit down on the sofa next to him, he gets up. A late Christmas gift arrived for him yesterday. I gave it to him as a bit of a peace offering. It's still sitting there unopened. I think I will just send it back. I don't nee this slap in the face on top of everything else.

I really need to get out of here, not go to a Vet, not do an errand, just do something I want to do or see people I want to see, but I can't think of anyone or any where that would help me find my smile.

I honestly am so fed up, I fear anyone who dares to give me any grief right now. I seriously am about to fly into a rage that may be seen from outer space. Heck, that might cheer me up? Maybe I should try it?

I had a good cry yesterday and got some rest, not enough, but a start. I talked to the Director and she said how badly she felt and how she knows just how I feel, too, but she was sorry she couldn't take any of the sick cats off my hands-you know she is wiped out, too.

I don't dare get into a rant about that right now, but let's just say-how badly does someone have to cry for help before the folks that are supposed to help, step up to the plate. I don't know how many times I've sucked it up, tired or not, but I guess that doesn't count when I'm in a jam.

Our dearest friend, Jennifer who had to put one of her kitties down a few weeks ago, ended up having to do the same thing to another cat yesterday. She is the one who also just adopted a 13 yr old, diabetic cat in very poor body condition. Jennifer is a Saint. On top of all that, she read my blog post and she called and offered to take Rudy and Comet. I'm torn by my own need for help and my fear that either of the kittens would get any of her cats sick. Also, Jennifer, do you really need more to do? Although, maybe having little ones running around would soften the heartache of losing a good friend? I can't say.

I'm going back to the Vet...again...I might as well get an apartment nearby. Hopefully Rudy and Comet's recheck will go well and they will be ok'd to go to Jennifer's. I'm bringing Blitzen back even though he was there yesterday. He has become so seriously snotty that it's terrifying me. I'm not a friggen' VET! I'm a Graphic Designer! It seems as though everyone expects me to just plug in some Sub-Q fluids or take temps on a wildly wriggly kitten or just some how know what to do for every little problem.

Ugh. Sorry for complaining. At least, so far (KNOCK WOOD), none of my cats are really sick. I'm hearing a sneeze or two and last night Tunie's eye was a bit runny, but overall they are OK. Hopefully, because they had better health to start with, they are able to fight this off. We'll see...it could still flare up.

Lastly, I really appreciate everyone's supportive emails and comments. You've all been there with all of this stuff and it makes it somehow tolerable to know that you care so much! I wish I could give you all a huge hug right now! THANK YOU!

Caring for seven sick cats is killing me. Between their care, my own cats and the f-ing holiday stuff, I am so exhausted and sick it's scaring me.

Yesterday, Super Deb came over with a care bag full of things to help Cupid, our Mama kitty, feel better. Deb gave her sub-Q fluids, as her temp was 104.1°F. Cupid hadn't eaten much, has the runs, is lethargic and limp. It breaks my heart. I've tried a gillion different foods to tempt her. We ended up force feeding her, then she ate a bit on her own.

Today the gang was slated to go to the Vet for a re-check. I was figuring Mama needed more care than I can give her. This morning I had to get up early because Sam had to leave for NYC. I need him to help me medicate the cats, so I got up. I was so tired, I felt delirious. All I wanted to do was go back to bed, but I couldn't.

At least Cupid ate for me, which was a big surprise. I was very happy to see that, but she's still not “right.” The kittens are getting snottier and I'm still having trouble getting Donner to eat consistently. They all look like shit-this is after five days of meds. Great.

After I took care of all the cats and I fed myself, I went back to bed to sleep as long as I could before I had to pack up and get going. I had a bad dream. I was with some family, I was in a huge house. I didn't know where I was and I was frantically trying to get my iPhone to show me my GPS location. It said I was in Louisiana or Mississippi, but not sure...then I tried to call Shelby to come and help me but I couldn't get a call out. I woke up feeling worse than I did when I went to sleep.

As I got dressed, I heard vomiting. Petunia spewed a two foot trail ALL OVER MY BED, then more on the floor. I had to strip the bedding and get it washed, great.

Then I had to hurry up and get the cats into their carriers. This is the part where I either skip ahead or just tell the truth...I thought I had to fart, but it was not a fart...oh no. You can guess the rest. I had to RACE into the bathroom to clean up and change my clothes. Yes, I have the runs from not eating or not eating well and not getting enough sleep. I was running late, getting angry, then of course...I flush the toilet and I can tell it's going to back up and FLOOD all over the floor. I get the water turned off before it's too late. I can't find the f-ing plunger, so I just leave it. I'm already 15 minutes late.

I try to go slow, take a deep breath, so I don't let the momentum of all this stuff get me into an accident. I make it to the Vet's a few minutes late. Not a big deal.

The big deal is Cupid. Though her fever has broken, she has a great deal of fluid in her abdomen. Her kidneys are small. They took x-rays to confirm. It took three people to hold her down to get a blood sample. The Vet said something about her veins being blue before she even touched them..that it was weird. She also told me that Cupid is more like FIVE, instead of 1-2-another LIE from the good old south.

Cupid could be sick from parasites. One of the kittens has tapeworm. They all got treated for it. I hope that's the only problem going on because the head Vet came into the exam room and said that it's possible Cupid has kidney disease. If she does, it may mean there is nothing they can do and that Cupid will have to be euthanized.

I was not ready to hear that. Would I ever be? I asked her if money was not an issue, if we could help save Cupid's life. She said “maybe,” but even money may not be able to give her the chance at ever surviving.

I ask myself, what have I done? If I hadn't taken Cupid, she would be dead. I saved her life only to take it a few weeks later? Is that how this is going to play out?

I haven't even mentioned Comet-who lost her adopter and Rudy, who lost his, too. No one wants to wait. Both cats are still snotty and sick. Caring for them consists of me feeding and medicating them. That's it. I can't spend any time with them. I can't give them what I don't have.

I need help. I really need this to be done. I need Cupid to not be deathly ill, for the damn kittens to start bouncing back and eating well. I need Comet and Rudy to be in another home so they can get some love and attention they deserve.

I need some sleep. I need some good food and I need for there to STOP being f-ing problems with all the cats.

I think it's a bad sign if I look at one of my cats doing something stupid and I burst into tears, seemingly for no reason. I'm so stressed out about all the sick cats that I'm feeling sick, myself. I've been trying to just breathe...not flip out...try to be good to myself, but it's not working. I'm exhausted and woozy and am losing the battle at caring about the outcome of all of this.

It's been a few days and Cupid and the kittens are just not eating well. I got Donder's temperature last night and she was not feverish, though she was a tiny bit over 102°F. These kitties haven't been seen by a Vet since they arrived. I was hoping that I could keep them comfortable and not stress them with a car trip to the Vet, but after trying five different foods last night-from chicken baby food, KMR, A/D, Solid Gold-“kitty crack” and one flavor of Wellness, they just sniff and walk away. I feel like I'm at the topmost rise of a terrible roller coaster and I can see it's about to drop downwards, but I can't see the bottom. I anticipate the feeling of of the drop with a deep primordial fear that grabs my gut and gives it a good, hard squeeze.

I've decided to get Cupid and the family to the Vet. It's almost Christmas and I can't risk them really being sick over the holiday. Whatever I was hoping to get done to lamely attempt at preparing for Christmas, will have to wait. Another late night awaits, trying to catch up.

I also heard news about Vixen. She's congested now and her owners are taking her back to the Vet. I know they're supposed to go out of town for a few days starting tomorrow. They have a great pet sitter set up, but now I wonder if their holiday is going to be ruined, too. It's one thing if my plans are shot, but it's not fair that they have to suffer, too. I hope Vixen is just hitting the snotty phase of the URI and will be all right very soon.

It really tears me up to know so many of them are suffering. At least I know now what I want for Christmas: a magic wand to wave over these sick cats and help them be well again.

Yesterday was tough for me. I woke up at 7am, after only five hours of sleep. I was up late the night before because I hadn't spent enough time with Cupid and her kittens since they arrived. I've made sure they've had plenty to eat and drink and a clean litter pan, but that's about all the time I've had. I've been so busy running the sick cats back and forth to the vet, spending time with Dash (he's alone most of the day and I take him out and run him around as much as I can) and dealing with the many applications from hopeful adopters, calling them, calling vets, calling our Director, getting photos of them to the paper, that it left me having to wait until midnight before I could start to have some real time with them.

Cupid lets me know how she feels about me.

Cupid is laid back and sweet. The first days she was here, she spent a great deal of time, pressed up in the corner of the big dog crate I use when I need to separate cats from each other. She looked depressed. The many weeks of life in a cage had probably taught her that life was meant to be spent sitting in one spot, all day, up against metal bars. I thought she might not be friendly, but that was not the case.

Cupid has slowly been allowing herself to rest on the bed, that has a big fluffy down comforter on it. I found her sitting on the cat condo by the window this afternoon. She seems content, but also fragile. It's tough to get her to eat, but once she starts she's all right. She's battling the same damn URI the other cats have and maybe her sense of smell is off. I worried about mastitis, but she seems fine when I checked her mammary glands. She's painfully thin, but even after a few days her coat has improved a lot. I think that one day she will really be a serious beauty, once she gets her health back.

If I could have rested in that moment, I would have been fine, but I had to talk to our Director about where Comet and Rudy were going to be living. Our Director was "done" with fostering and would only help in an emergency. I did NOT want either of the cats in my house. They were still quite sick and I didn't want MY cats to get sick or Cupid and her family to get sick! Sniffles are one thing, but raging high fever and bad congestion is a big problem.

I've got two rooms I can use. That's it. I have my big foster room for mama and the babies-done deal. I have a bathroom with a tiny laundry room attached-which is space two. I don't want ANY cats in that space. It's a nightmare to do laundry while there are cats in the room, plus it's too much work. It takes me about an hour per feeding to get everyone fed, fresh water, cleaned litter. If it's just one room plus my own guys, that's one thing, but an extra room of cats-not good.

I've got Dasher in room two. He can't be put back with Rudy and Comet. Dash is doing fairly well. He's eating great, running around, sneezing, but that's it. If I put those other sick cats in with him, I can't adopt him out on Wednesday.

I give Dash a break as often as I can, to get out of the tiny bathroom and run around in the bedroom. He's a joy to have around.

So I can't take them, the Director won't, I can't ask Jennifer because she has geriatric cats and it's too much to ask her to take on sick animals. I can't ask Rick, another foster, because he has six cats of his own. I had our Director ask our Vet to do a medical boarding of the cats until after Christmas-just to give me breathing room and maybe the cats would be healthy enough to not be such a high risk of getting my cats sick. They said, No. I called Dr. Larry and talked to Super Deb. It was weird that she answered the phone on a Monday (she doesn't usually work on Monday's), but I was grateful to talk to her. By the time I called her, I was in tears. I had tried to figure out how to deal with these sick cats. It wasn't my fault they were so sick, but it was on me to care for them. Thankfully, Super Deb said; YES, but it would COST. I felt at that point, there is no price I wouldn't pay for sanity. I honestly felt like I was about to crack from stress.

Now all I had to do was get Rudy to the Vet for a checkup. Pick up Comet from the same Vet, then drive over to Dr. Larry's office and have them both examined, then they would be boarded, but only for a few days. On Christmas eve they have to be picked up. Not ideal, but better than nothing. If I play my cards right, I can get Dash out of here (adopted) and slot the sick cats into my bathroom. Also, the sick ones would have 4 more days of meds-which would put them at just a week's worth. That might be enough to get them to a point where they are doing better.

Just as I was about to walk out the door to meet our Director to pick up Rudy and get him to the Vet for a re-check, I got a call. It was from Julia, Vixen's adopter. Vixen was sick. She broke with the URI and Julia wanted my advice. When she said: “Didn't get up this morning..not eating...vomiting” I urged her to get the kitten to the Vet-already done. She was going in shortly. Holy shit...that's four cats with this nasty URI. Of course I had warned Julia that this might happen and Julia is a great person-totally understanding. She doesn't have other cats so it was safe for her to bring Vixen home, but now that she was home, she was in trouble. I felt guilty and responsible. I have never and would never knowingly adopt out an animal that was sick. I was mortified. No wonder...a few hours later I found out that Vixen had close to a 106°F temp and had a SERIOUS EAR MITE INFECTION on top of that.

Ear mites are not that big of a deal, but in this case it was the straw the broke the camels back. NONE of these cats should have ear mites!!!!!Supposedly they were ALL checked by a VET before they left GA. Something wrong is going on. I don't know what it is, but I did ask Barb to find out. This is why we do the fundraiser-so we can afford to get the cats vetted before they come here. Transports don't cause ear mites-at least not this bad. And that, I found out later, was not even the half of it...

I got Rudy to the Vet. He looked marginally better. No weight change. No temp. Ate for us. Still very snotty and a bit teary. Had blood in his nasal discharge. They added one more med to his bag of tricks and said they wanted to check him in a week to ten days. “When can we get him to his new home???”...two weeks?? Yes. About that...we have to see how he's doing. Great. Now I may lose the adopters we have for Rudy and Comet, since Comet is only marginally better herself.

Comet was released with lots of meds. Her eyes look much better, but she is very snotty. She also was pooping out tapeworms. Nice!!! Were any of these cats really de-wormed or was it a lie? No problem I will deworm everyone again to make sure...again...what is going on here?

Now that the better part of the day was behind me, I had yet to get the cats over to see Dr. Larry. Actually, they saw Dr M. since Dr. Larry is off on Monday's. I loaded the cats into the car and drove through rush hour traffic just getting to his office on time. I dreaded going there partly because I knew I was going to see Julia and I was scared to find out if Vixen had taken a turn for the worse.

Super Deb looked over Rudy and re-checked his vital signs. Rudy was a playful little imp. Nothing seemed to bother him much. Deb stepped out of the room and I sat down, holding Rudy in my crossed arms. Rudy laid across my chest, like a baby. Deb opened the door and as she did, Rudy suddenly grabbed at my right boob and nipped my nipple-as though he was going to nurse off me!!! Debbie stopped frozen in her tracks, then stepped back out of the room, shouting “I didn't see that!” I had good laugh, but man was that FREAKY!!!!!! No pix. Sorry everyone!

Then Comet was checked out. She is really really thin and dehydrated, still. She had a fever, but that could be brought on by being in the car or her being due for another antibiotic OR she is running a fever. Regardless, she was going to be cared for by good people who have the skills to make sure she stays in better shape for a few more days. Then, she will be my problem, but for now I had a break...

...until Dr. M came into the room and ripped me a new asshole.

It wasn't enough that I was feeling horrible about so many cats being sick. That it was my fault that I subjected them to this awful transport and that they are too young to handle it. Well, some of the cats that are sick are 6 and 8 MONTHS old. The kittens are doing marginally better (other than Rudy). This also seems to be a great opportunity for people to give me shit about doing transports at all. You know...let me tell you this: the deal is done. I did the transport. The animals got sick for one reason or 100 reasons. Some are shitting worms. Some have ear mites and flea dirt. Let's get them well and not use this as a platform to make whatever point you want to make. Apparently, Dr. M did not get the memo because she launched into me about how the Practice is too small and that they don't have adequate quarantine facilities and if I wanted to get into a viral quarantine, well that would REALLy start to cost big bucks. That she couldn't completely decontaminate herself so it put the other patients at risk and if this was her Practice she would have not allowed these cats to be boarded at all. Then she told me about North Shore Animal League washing their hands of an adoption they did a few days before and that the puppy that was adopted was near death...then here's Vixen's adopters whose cat could also die from a high fever and how would I feel if my adopters had to face the DEATH of their cat just after adopting it? Hey...they KNEW the risks. I was very clear that Vix had been exposed to a nasty URI. That she got sick was bad, terrible, awful, rotten, BUT...why am I getting ripped on about this?

I seriously felt like I needed to just take the cats home. I started to imagine seeing Bob Dole and Spencer, dead. Neither of them could handle getting this f-ing virus-espeically Bob. I started to imagine that this rescue may be the worst thing I have ever done-with the best intentions I have ever had.

We've had many good runs. Many good transports with very happy outcomes. Now we are having a big problem and I'm basically on my own. I am very thankful I didn't get 12 cats instead of 9. I really would have been in trouble if that was the case.

I did my best to explain that we've learned that we cannot spay or neuter the cats before they leave GA. It's too much stress on them to do that, then transport them. Her reply was “Ya, THINK??!!!”...in a way, almost mocking, and certainly belittling me. I felt like I was an inch tall.

I left the exam room while Rudy and Comet were set up in their new home. I heard Julia's voice as I turned the corner. She saw me and I gave her a weak smile. I sat next to her and was ready to get laid into, but she was very nice. She wanted to know if Vixen's fever was like the others. She wanted me to help her feel better about all this. I didn't want to say that Vixen could die, so I didn't. I did tell her that the other cats had high fevers that broke within 24 hours-which was true. She was scared to take Vix back home since she still had the high fever and I told her she could call me any time, day or night and that I would help with the cat. It's the least I can do. No adopter should have the first days with their new cat be mired in fear and have to cough up a HUGE Vet bill on top of that, but she was graceful about it and understanding. It was a big kindness to me after such a bad day.

Just as I pulled into my driveway, our Director call to see how I was doing. I got choked up, but didn't cry. She was really kind to me about all that's going on. She has been there-and lost many kittens over the years. We had a good talk and we decided we need to shut this down for now. Instead of moving ahead to get Cupid and her kittens spayed or neutered, we are going to cancel all Vet appointments for the next two weeks. That will give them time to fight off this URI. If they are symptom free, we will go back to getting them vetted, then put them up for adoption. We fear any stress will be bad for them. I can't even move Mama and the babies out of here to get away from Rudy and Comet when they arrive on Thursday. The move could make them sick.

So I'm stuck. I've got more foster cats than I bargained for and they'll be here for far longer than I hoped. I may lose the adopters I have lined up, but so be it. I honestly don't mind having the kittens here, but I'm fearful of what's to come. Will Rudy and Comet be the tipping point to send a wave of illness through my own cats? Will they survive it? Will the kittens get seriously ill? Will they live through this?

Then there's Christmas. I didn't send out a card—first time in a gillion years. I didn't wrap a gift-I hardly even bought any. I only got Sam two little presents and I feel awful about it, even though he tells me not to worry!!! I have the house decorated, at least, but the place is a mess. I'm trying to just take a deep breath, but I so want to have a good Christmas, for once, but at this point, I'd be thrilled with a Christmas where my cats don't get sick and a New Year that brings new homes to my fosters.

Will I do this again? Will I rescue more cats?

What do you think?