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Saturday Squee Alert!

DAY TWELVE. So far, so good! Three kittens have opened their eyes! Welcome to the world, babies!

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

Although I'm not spending much time with the kittens just yet, mama is coming around and allows me to briefly handle her babies. I think most of the kittens have gained weight. One may have stayed the same, but they are very tough to tell apart. I'll weigh them again tomorrow and jump in and give bottle feeding a try if I think the little guy isn't gaining.

Poor mama. She is clearly exhausted, but I'm supporting her more than the kittens. I feed her many times a day and bring the food to her so she doesn't have to leave the kittens-who seem perpetually attached to her.


©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

Happy Saturday! Enjoy today's SQUEEEEEE!

The Worst, yet Best Birthday, Ever.

The blissful buzz from last week's adventure with Jackson Galaxy, getting the mind-bogglingly-huge donation of cat food from Halo and having the Press here wore off faster than I had hoped. You can't be “that” happy and think that you'll feel that way forever-ain't gonna happen. The only thing was I wasn't prepared for how low I would feel the days to follow.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Hello, baby!

Tuesday was my birthday. I didn't expect a gala celebration, but I did expect, at least a few cards and a cake. I got FIVE postcards from vendors wishing me a Happy Birthday and issuing me a discount to buy cat food, get my back “cracked” or save on a new outfit at the chubby chick store. Sam made an appointment to take his cat, Nicky to the Vet so I guessed we weren't going out for breakfast as we used to do. We passed each other in the hallway. He wished me a “Happy Birthday,” then left. I found a few cards scattered around the house for me. I opened one. I sighed. Was anything in store for me today? Any surprises? Nothing had happened the weekend before and I knew this coming weekend was Easter so I doubted he would set something up for that time…what gives?

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Look at those extra toes!

I didn't have time to think about it. Katherine, my so called “friend” (I'm joking and only Katherine knows why. We really are friends, right?), told me about a stray cat living in Trumbull (where I used to live as a kid), who had given birth to what we thought was three kittens, but turned out to be six! I wasn't sure I should take them. I have King and Miss FP in Georgia and Bobette is in the big foster room. I only have one other space for cats so if I took this family, King and Miss FP would have to stay back in GA-which is so not fair to them or Maria.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Everyone tells me to name this cat, Wishbone, but I think that's a terrible name for a cat. What do you think?

In the end, I didn't feel like I could sleep knowing those cats were living outdoors. It gets into the 30's at night here and I feared not all the kittens would survive. They were born the night I met Jackson so I took it as a sign and agreed to take them on.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Mama is not sure what is going on and just wants to be reunited with her kittens.

While Sam was at the Vet, I went to another Vet to meet Katherine and pick up the kitties. First, Mama had to be snap tested for FIV+ and Feline Leukemia. We test EVERY cat before the come into the house. Thankfully, Mama was negative/negative, which was very important. If she was sick, that meant her kittens would be, too. If she had Feline Leukemia, it would have been a very bad day for all of us.


©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Meet the family!

Katherine had told me the kittens were black and white, which was fine. I'm slow to take on kittens that are solid black because my rescue is small and black kitties are the last to get adopted. I don't want to get stuck and not be able to help other kittens if I have kittens here for a long period of time who aren't easily adoptable. I wish that wasn't the case and I wish it didn't matter, but it does. Of course, we were not given very accurate information. All but one kitten is black, the other is black and white. A life is a life and these babies would be safe, but I did feel worried that if I couldn't find good homes as soon as they were old enough to be adopted that I'd have these cats forever.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Mama & the Family.

I looked at the bright side. Two of the black kittens are also polydactyl on their front and back paws. Their daddy is a big, black, fluffy poly-kitty. It's the first time I've ever known the sire of any of my cats. From the looks of it, even at just eight days old, two of the kittens were going to be bruisers.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Nom-noms with mom-mom!

On the way home, I stopped a Luigi's and got myself a few pastries. Luigi's smells like what Heaven should smell like-sugar. I hadn't been there for years and it was a special day so I was going to treat myself. I wasn't even going to SHARE with Sam. So there!

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. I didn't eat all of this, at once or at all, but I thought about it.

I got the little family tucked into their room. I left them alone so the mama could check things out undisturbed. So began my worrying that one or more kittens would die. Until they are two weeks old they have a 30-40% mortality rate! I kept thinking about Bobette's little ones who died after we rescued them. I wasn't prepared for that to happen again, but the mama is small and with six kittens constantly vying for food, it was a lot of stress on her and on them.

I sent out emails to my rescue friends who've bottle fed kittens and asked for their advice since I've never done it before. I read about ideal weight of week-old kittens and I got my scale ready. I weighed most of the kittens until Mama sat across the front of the scale and growled at me. I didn't want to mess with her kittens too much and have her abandon them, so I left the room.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. There are six kittens in there somewhere.

The first two days were shaky. I wasn't sure she was feeding her babies. Mama began to eat, drink and use the litter pan normally. Slowly, but surely, she let me see her eat, then see her feed her kittens. I was greatly relieved to see her feeding all her kittens, not just some. None of them were cast aside. So far, so good.

Mama came over to me and let me pet her. She was very sweet, but something bothered her so growled and jumped back into the bathtub to sit near her kittens. She's very protective of them and seems to stay close by most of the time. I find that if I bring her food and hold the plate by her mouth, she'll eat while the kittens are nursing. She's eating a lot of food and I just keep it coming. I know the more she gets, the more she can provide.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Mama provides.

I'm going to weigh the kittens today since it's been three days since the family arrived. I have to balance bothering the mama with making sure each kitten is gaining weight. This morning, one of the kittens had it's eyes open! Pretty soon all of them will-I hope. At this point, I don't even know what sex the kittens are so I've put off naming them and I think I'd feel better if they were a bit older before I did that.

It's kind of nice to have little ones here. It's been years since I had kittens this young. Usually Maria has them at her house and frankly, I think she's much less of a worry-wort and better prepared to deal with them than I am.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Aww!

Oh and as for my Birthday, the Birthday that never was…as the hours ticked by I got more ticked off. Clearly nothing was going to happen. No flowers. No surprises. No CAKE! Sam was acting like he was mad at me but I couldn't figure out if it had anything to do with me at all. The only surprise was that nothing was happening. At 7:30PM Sam asked me if I wanted to go out for dinner. I basically exploded at the point and we had a big fight-just what you want to do on your BIRTHDAY. It's not worth it to go into details or ask you to take my side, even if I'm (mostly) right! It was my Birthday and no one should be told mean things on their birthday. I'm sorry but that's just wrong.

Once again, Sam and I walked to the edge of the precipice, but neither of us was ready to jump, though I certainly did fantasize about pushing him over, that's for sure.

I focus on the mama-cat. I focus on work. My birthday was just another day, but it WAS great to be part of saving seven lives that day. Whatever else is going on, I'm numb to. It's a sad place to be, but I hope I find my bootstraps so I can pull myself back up.

The Making of a Fur-lebrity: Meet Angelina (Meow-y) Jolie

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Did you know Natioanl Hairball Awareness Day is April 27th? Our friends at Furminator want to remind everyone about the importance of keeping your pets groomed, not only to alleviate nasty hairballs, but to encourage bonding between cats and their guardians and to help keep your cat feeling comfortable. Mats on any animal are painful. As they get bigger and thicker, they pull on the skin making every step uncomfortable, then cause infections and bleeding. I'll discuss Furminator's de-shedding tools and some grooming tips in another post. For now let's focus on the strange and bizarre (my favorite!) request the Furminator folks asked of me.

A select number of cat bloggers were invited to create, what I call a “Fur-lebrity” (celebrity look-alike) out of cat fur! Sound insane? Yes, I'd say so! The rules were simple, groom your cat and use the fur and whatever else you need for your creation. Who you create is up to you.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. My fur-lection of cat fur.

I do not consider myself to be crafty, but I did go to art school so I had some hope I could pull this off.

With a $1000.00 donation to my favorite charity (Kitten Associates, YAY!) on the line as First Prize for the best entry, I knew I had to really kick some butt.

 

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Gathering some tools I think might help.

Who would I try to create? I immediately thought of Jackson Galaxy, but then realized I had no way to recreate his brilliant tattoos. I wanted to do someone who is easily recognizable-then it hit me-I would re-create Angelina Jolie's newsworthy leg flash at the 2012 Academy Awards. It went viral in seconds. Her LEG got it's own Twitter page, followed by the creation of a MEME showing classic images with her leg added to them. If you haven't seen it, you can look HERE.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. We have fur. We have photo. Now what do we do?

I had NO clue how I was going to pull this off. I did research and gathered images. I called my friend, Irene and asked her to help. We both got to work brushing our numerous cats and made plans to get together for a planning session. Was I overthinking this? Yes! But I REALLY want that First Prize donation!

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Felting the fur, then making a curl. COOL! I can do this!

My shorthairs really shed like crazy and I got a TON of fur off of them. Pee-tunia loved being brushed. I must have brushed her for 30 minutes and I could have kept going her fur is so dense! Because it's so dry this time of year, static electricity built up and I wore almost as much fur as I removed from my cat.

The longhaired cats didn't contribute much, but their fur was softer and easy to work with, especially the DOOD's.

I bagged each cat's fur separately since I'm anal retentive, plus I thought if we had to dye the fur we'd know how much we had up front. Heck, I could always get more as long as didn't make my cats bald.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The LEG. I think Angie is gonna have to shave it!

Irene and I spent many hours working, scratching our heads, making weird faces, feeling confused. We went to a craft store and found lots of goodies that inspired us to keep going.

After we'd found lovely little detail items, we really got to work. Felting cat fur is fairly easy, you just rub it into the shape you want and it stays that way. Irene and I were both covered in cat hair as we worked. We tested, ripped apart, started over. We got Angelina's dress sorted out and I thought it looked spot on. We even got the pleats correct. I started to get into making every little thing I could think of. I made her a little purse, adding earrings and a ring. I even added strips of gray fur to suggest her tattoos. She has one on the inside of her right arm and the longitude and latitude of where her children were born tattooed on her left arm (to cover a tattoo she got of her ex, Billy Bob Thornton's name).

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The gown is lookin' fine!

We kept looking at our reference images. I kept asking myself if there was enough fur being used? How creepy is her face if we SEW on her features? Yes, it's creepy, but just using a doll face seemed like cheating. Irene and I kept looking at each's others contributions. I did the leg, she did the face. I made curls. She sewed the dress once I got the fabric pinned. All said and done, we were really happy with the finished Fur-Lebrity. We even found sparkly red paper we could use for the Red Carpet.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Angelina Meow-y.

Before I photographed our entry, I had to use a LINT ROLLER to get the cat fur OFF part of the gown! Seemed a bit ironic to need to do that.

 

If we're one of the FIVE lucky FINALISTS---WAIT SCRATCH THAT! BREAKING NEWS: WE ARE ONE OF THE FINALISTS SO I HOPE YOU'LL GO TO the FURMINATOR FACEBOOK PAGE AND VOTE FOR US! We just took in a mama and six kittens so that money can go to providing for all their upcoming Vet care and we can help the other cats in our Program like King, Miss Fluffy Pants & Bobette!

 

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. What a cute couple!

Then Irene's niece, Chris sent us a surprise! She created a spectacular Jackson Galaxy! Now I had a problem-we could only enter ONE Fur-lebrity! I felt like I was in a warped version of Sophie's Choice!It was a very difficult decision, but in the end, I went with Angelina. I sure hope Jackson doesn't feel betrayed!

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Don't be mad at us, Jackson! You know we love you!

 

If you'd like to see the other entries, just click on the badge, above. I'm going to go vacuum up some cat hair.

We Love Mimi Ausland, Ellen DeGeneres, HALO® & FreeKibbleKat.com!

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Just how much food is in that big truck?

This past December, my dear friend, Caroline Golon, mama of the famed, Romeo the Cat, asked me if I could help photograph the delivery of a huge donation of dog & cat food to a few very lucky local shelters. I was glad to help and was curious to see how much food was being donated. I grabbed my nephew, Ryan, who enjoys photography too, and we made our way to Greenwich, CT to wait for the truck to arrive.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Some shelter in the area is going to be VERY HAPPY soon!

When a semi truck arrives, you know this is going to be a big donation. Ryan and I were amazed at how many palettes of food came off the truck for the waiting rescues. I knew that every bag would help keep shelter animals going until they found their forever homes and help the rescues be able to use their funds to cover other things, like Vet bills, instead of having to worry about finding the resources to buy food.

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Mimi Ausland, who started FreeKibble.com at age 11!

As payment for my services, I was told I could donate 5,000 meals of kibble to MY favorite Non-Profit Animal Rescue or Shelter! Stunned at the thought of that much food, I asked if the donation could come to my own rescue, Kitten Associates.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Our shipment arrives-all 2500 cans!

As many of you know, KA is a tiny rescue (right now!), but we really go through the food because kittens eat non-stop. A case of 12 cans can last a day or two depending on how many kittens we have.

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Co-Owner of Halo, none other than the most supremely awesome animal lover,
Ms. Ellen DeGeneres

I asked the folks at FreeKibble.com and Halo if we could get canned food instead of kibble, but was a bit scared to know how big that shipment would be. It turns out we'd be getting---2500, 5.5 oz cans of cat food, which, depending on how many cats are in our program, could last us until NEXT YEAR.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Making friends with my new palette of cat food. Did I write, PALETTE OF CAT FOOD? YIPPIE!

If we really were getting almost 900 pounds of cat food, I knew that storing it in my garage would expose it to strong shifts in temperatures and possibly spoil the food. I decided it would be better to grant some of our donation to our friends at Animals in Distress as well as to ship some out to our foster homes in Georgia and to a few select local families-in-need. Even doing all that we'd still have plenty of food for our own foster cats.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. My car is full of cat food! Woohoo!

There WAS a “little” hitch in our plans which made for an episode of “My Backache From Heck.” The truck wasn't suited to back down the driveway because it wasn't paved. We didn't want the truck to get stuck so we were faced with tearing down the palette, moving each case of food to the garage, then re-stacking the palette in it's new location! Oops!

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Mine! ALL MINE! Okay, some of it is mine, the rest I'm sharing.

It took a few hours to get everything moved and I honestly would have moved it miles if I had to, I'm so very grateful to have this donation. It will mean we can use our funds to cover other costs related to rescuing cats and it will give us some breathing room and a little less to worry about. With adoptions down, donations hard to come by and more cats being surrendered and abandoned, it's very uplifting to know that there's a company out there who really CARES and wants to make a difference for cats and dogs across the country.

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Because of this amazing donation, this week we'll be rescuing a family of kitties-a mama and her FIVE, 1-week old kittens. Although the kittens are too young to enjoy Halo canned food, their mama will get as much as she wants. It'll help her stay strong, which will give her offspring the best chance at a healthy future. When her kittens are ready, they'll enjoy Halo, too.

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If you want to help feed shelter cats and dogs with a mouse-click, visit Freekibble.com and Freekibblekat.com

“Freekibble.com was launched in 2008, as the vision of then 11 year-old, Mimi Ausland. Mimi wanted to feed the hungry dogs and cats at her local shelter. "There are 10's of thousands of dogs and cats in animal shelters across the country, all needing to be fed a good meal." With this goal in mind, Freekibble was created.

Today, the Freekibble Network reaches over 500,000 passionate pet-lovers. This loyal community has helped us feed over 7 million meals to homeless dogs and cats in shelters, rescues and food-banks across the country.

Thanks to our Official Kibble Sponsor, Halo, Purely for Pets, we are able to donate the highest quality, all natural kibble, for happier, healthier pets while they wait for their forever homes.

All of us at Freekibble are committed to Mimi's original dream that "Every dog and cat deserves a decent dinner". And, we're dedicated to the primary mission of feeding nutritious food to as many shelter dogs and cats as we possibly can.”

Breaking News: A “Game-Changer” for Cat Guardians!

What does the Periodic Table of Elements have to do with cats? Breaking news out of CERNs research facility near the Franco-Swiss border in Geneva, Switzerland indicates the discovery of a new element that's being called a “game changer” by cat guardians and cat behaviorists across the globe.

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After decades of much heated debate, the International Union of Pure & Applied Chemisty assigned a new Element. Like it’s 118 predecessors, number 119 is a pure chemical substance consisting of one type of atom distinguished by its atomic number, which is the number of protons in its nucleus. Element 119 bears the name, Urinium.

It's believed that Urinium was first discovered in 1855 by Dr. Joseph King after his tabby cat, Mossander soaked samples he was using in his research to find a new element. What he was close to discovering was Cesium, which eventually documented by noted scientists, Robert Wilhelm Bunsen (later of Bunsen Burner fame) and Gustav Robert Kirchoff.

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The scientific community scoffed and chided Dr. King when he declared that bombarding ammonia gas from cat urine, resulted in the discovery of a pure atom and that atom, alone was the cause of the offensive odor after cat urine was sprayed on household items and the like. Because technology couldn’t confirm his findings, it wasn’t until 2010 when Dr. Mike Hunt, a scientist at CERN decided it was worth a second look.

Sure enough, Dr. King was correct in his findings, but sadly never lived to see the day his discovery would be verified. What this meant for the world is simple. A metering device could be created to measure the density of particulate (P particles), in the same way a Geiger Counter measures radioactivity. Because it works on an atomic level, cat guardians will never have to worry about being bothered by “Phantom Cat Pee” smells ever again.

They’ll aim, scan, locate and remove every cat urine stain in their home with the flick of a wrist and the push of a button. Engage the device, holding it near your cat’s urethra, so it can “sniff” the particulates that emit from the opening. Next it will create a unique algorithm to “track” the “fingerprint odor” wherever it occurs in your home.

The device, in the works right now, is similar to scanners you’ve seen on an episode of Star Trek; like the one where Captain Kirk scans for bio-signs on Sigma Draconis when he’s searching for Spock’s brain (because it was stolen, duh!) except it’s not quite as thrilling when you lock onto a target and only find cat pee.

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I was able to get an EXCLUSIVE FIRST LOOK at a working prototype. It’s so sensitive you’ll have to remove all the litter pans AND cats from your home and place them into a sealed charcoal lined containment device while you’re scanning the premises so the device doesn’t get “confused.”

Using the searing power of lasers-

the new device, codenamed: Whizzard™, will include this technology as a way to literally “zap” urine smell from the home!

Though it may spark small fires or melt certain objects, I think you’ll all agree, that anything is better than a soiled home that smells like cat urine.

NOTE: The Whizzard is so accurate that once the truth is revealed about the severity of urine all over your furnishings, you may feel you need to move out of your home, but that’s ok. Whizzard’s got you covered. For an extra fee (details are being worked out, now), a Clinical “Psychologist,” named Dr. Larry will come to your home and let you unload all your frustrations on him, while he nods, smiling sweetly, then shakes his head to confirm that he is, indeed, listening to you, cares and wants to help. Larry may carry with him a pocketful of Xanax, but I can neither confirm nor deny that.

Dining with The Cat Daddy, Jackson Galaxy. Part 3.

I managed to not drive like a moron, get us lost or scare Jackson with the driving skills I learned when I attended the Skip Barber High Performance Driving School in 2000. Sure, I know threshold breaking and about contact patches, but does Jackson need a demonstration in the middle of the night? Taking a curve on an exit ramp at 80 mph is much more exciting during the day, anyway.

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All roads lead to CVS.

We found a CVS, a different location, but part of the same chain I’d been in that morning to buy mascara. We were the only ones in the place other than a lone employee. It was surreal shopping under the painful glare of fluorescent lights with the snack deprived Cat Daddy.

Jackson had the hood up on his jacket to keep his head warm. I looked at him from a distance and tried to imagine how I’d feel if I was shopping and looked up and saw him without knowing who he was. Would I swoon? Be intrigued? I think he would have scared the [censored] out of me. He is so tall and was so bundled up, all I could see was his face, dark beard and sharp-lined glasses, his dark eyes darting back and forth over the choices in the snack food area. But then, Jackson walked over to the aisle where the “As Seen on TV” stuff was located and mischeviously said that “Furniture Fix,” which are interlocked plastic strips you stick under the cushion of a “blown out” sofa or chair, actually work. See? Never judge a book by his cover.

I told him I used plywood and it just made it feel like the sofa was blown out and the cushion was on the floor, but was glad to know that FF actually works (no, that is NOT a JG Productions endorsement—sheesh!).

Then I pointed at the box for Pajama Jeans, which are my new favorite thing to make jokes about now that Snuggies are passé. I wonder what the world is coming to when people are so lazy they can’t be bothered to take off their pajamas and get dressed. Wait! What was I saying! I live in my pj’s half the time. Who sees me? Maybe I should get some Pajama Jeans? At least they were dry!

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Every fashionista's worst nightmare, but they come in “skinny” AND “boot cut.” How cool is that?

We walked up and down the aisles and looked at the cavalcade of crap: chips and nuts and candy, oh my. We made jokes, talked about what we liked or hated. We both liked Cap’n Crunch® when we were kids. Jackson chose something salty (pretzels, what I always get, too!) so I told him he had to get something sweet to balance it and he agreed. We both sneered at the Oreo®’s (Sorry, Nabisco®). Then Jackson pointed out that peanut butter stuffed pretzels are ALWAYS sold in tubs, never in a small bag or box. I pretended to cry and said that from now on, every time I saw those stuffed pretzels I’d think of him. Then I realized “there’s many a true word said in jest.”

Jackson gathered a few items and went to the check out. I used my Jewish super powers (my Mother was Jewish so she handed her powers down to me before she died) to guilt him into not buying RedBull® for the next day's recording session out of fear of what that buzz would do to his digestion, let alone blood sugar (he wisely chose water).

As we stood at the checkout, the young man at the register didn’t realize who was right in front of him. I looked at the kid’s nametag. It read; “Jackson, ”so of course I started frantically poking Jackson’s arm to get his attention to look at the name tag and he whispered to me that he already noticed and that I was slow! What a joker. Gotta love that guy.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Jackson with his “mini-me” that a volunteer named Chris Fetcho made for Kitten Associates. It's created out of “furminated” cat hair, wool and a maxi pad. Yes, there's a maxi under his shirt…under the faux-Jackson's shirt! Sheesh.

The short drive back to the hotel went just as smoothly as the drive to CVS. Why I didn’t floor it and kidnap Jackson so I could have him all to myself is beyond me. But no, I had to be a good girl and go back to the hotel when I had the chance of a lifetime. I blew it! I’ve never been in jail before nor had a reason to be. I'm such a twit!

Poor Jackson was half asleep in the car. The jet-lag had kicked in full force and I knew it was time to say goodbye.

I pulled up in front of the hotel, killed the engine and got out. Jackson came over to me and we looked into each other’s eyes. Jackson removed his glasses and blinked slowly, making that soft eyes expression he uses to soothe naughty cats on his show. I responded to his gesture by taking off my glasses and giving him soft eyes in return. I felt a purring sensation begin to rise from the depths of my soul. What in the world was going on? Was this guy some sort of Svengali with women, too?

I lost control of my fingers. My glasses slipped to the ground with a “clink.” We fell into a passionate lip-lock, oblivious to the fact that it was [censored] cold outside. His beard tickled my neck as I got lost in his commanding embrace. My knees turned to jelly, but he held tightly onto me. Our bodies started to turn together, as if on a giant lazy-susan. There was no one else, no TV show or book tour to worry about, just us spinning in circles fading in and out of soft focus perfection…

…Really? Come on.

We gave each other a big hug and that was it. I didn’t even score a peck on the cheek, [censored][censored][censored], but I can dream, can’t I? This is MY story about dinner with Jackson so I can write whatever I want!

I think we were both too tired to say much more. I would have liked to tell him good luck with everything and thank you for dinner (thank you!) and a million more things, but I had an hour and a half drive to get back home, so with great reluctance I got back into my old car, I mean my COOL Black BMW (pwned it!) and pointed it west as Jackson’s figure disappeared, the Lobby doors closing behind him.

At least I’d been able to snag Jackson’s yellow wallet during the hug as a souvenir. His Driver's License is a trip! There's a black wavy mustache drawn over his face in the I.D. photo.

---------TUESDAY 3/28/12-----------

I got home at 12:30 AM. The drive along I-95 was spent following an ambulance running lights and sirens. Though I stayed far back from the vehicle, in a way it felt like I was getting an escort home, so I pretended I was a high ranking Government Official (officially tired).

I’d had a cup of tea while Jackson and I shared dessert earlier that night. (OMG I SHARED dessert with Jackson…swoon!) I’m very sensitive to caffeine and only have it, at most, once a day and well before 5pm, otherwise I can’t sleep. I chose to have tea late, knowing full well I’d have to be awake to drive home.

Then I realized how stupid I was. I should have said I too sleepy to drive home! “Oh Mr. Jackson, please pity me. I am so tired and weary and have nowhere to rest my porn-star-hairdood-head and I cannot afford to stay in this luxurious hotel and I am so far from my home. Oh, Mr. Jackson can you help me? I noticed there is a mighty big bed in your room.” Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. Why aren’t I more conniving, or at least catty? [censored][censored][censored].

So there I lay, in my own bed, with dry (yay!) pajamas on, my porn star hair getting flat, covered in cats. My heart was racing from the adrenaline and the caffeine. I tossed. I turned. I got up to pee and stepped in a puddle of cat urine that was on the floor by the toilet. I saw one of the cats sitting in the doorway. It was Pee-tunia. I know she did it: the little [censored]. I sighed. It was too late at night to yell, plus WWJD? He wouldn't yell at the cat so I cleaned everything up and went back to bed. I tossed some more. I kept reliving the evening. I told myself to cut it out, to focus on the next day. Some folks from the local media were going to be here to document my rescue group, Kitten Associates, receiving it's biggest donation ever-2500 cans of cat food from HALO. I’d have to be fresh and on point for them. See, Jackson, I’m famous, too. Okay, not like you are, obviously, but…but…but…okay, maybe having my photo in The Newtown Bee and The Danbury News-Times does not qualify me for being “famous, ” but it’s something.

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The only physical proof, other than a beard hair I found in my car that this night really happened.

I couldn’t sleep a wink. I tried to rest. I knew I was going to pay for it later. I’d told Jackson if he wanted to hang out while he was in town, to let me know. Since there was a slim chance I’d see him again, it was another reason not to want to sleep. I wanted the day to get going so I could find out if I’d see him again; the heck with the Press!

-------------later that morning------------

I did my best to get up and go through my normal routine. I got ready for the Media to arrive, but I was so tired I didn’t do everything I wanted to do before they got to my house. I called Paula at the freight company, expecting her to tell me that the shipment would arrive some time in the afternoon. It was 11am. She said the driver should be there by Noon, the latest. NOON?!! Oh no!

I sent out a few quick emails and made some calls, letting everyone know about the time change. They all made plans to arrive, but would miss the actual delivery. I heard something up on the street. I looked up. The truck was at the end of the driveway, on the street. Oh [censored]! It was 11:15!

I ran to the front door and opened it and almost walked into the driver. He apologized and told me the bad news. He would not drive his truck down the dirt driveway and drop off by the garage, so he’d have to drop the 1100 pound load about 200 yards away, leaving us to have to unpack the palette, load up a car, drive down the driveway, unpack the car, repeat four times, then re-load the palette with 290 CASES of CAT FOOD once it was moved into the garage. UGH!

I’ll cover more of this story and complain about My Backache From Hell later…back to Jackson…

Actually, there really isn’t a lot more to say about Jackson. I was still “high” from meeting him, but the reality that it was over and done and that I probably wouldn’t see him again, either ever or, at best at a Conference some day, left me feeling broken-hearted. I realize it’s stupid to feel like that, but I was greedy. I’ve been yearning to have fun for so long that when I got a taste of it I wanted more.

That the “fun” was with the acme of Cat Behaviorists, as well as a TV star was almost more than I deserved, but my birthday is in a few days, so I gave myself a break from feeling guilty.

It’s not realistic to think that Jackson is available to be my buddy, especially now, with so much on his plate for a very long time to come. If we met under different circumstances maybe we’d be able to hang out and get to know each other, but we live 3000 miles apart. I tried to be happy that anything happened at all, but it just reminded me of how sad I’ve been for so long that I wondered if maybe I should have just stayed home in the first place.

Are you [censored] kidding me? Miss out on meeting Jackson Galaxy? Never.

After the Press left and the palette was moved, I went to bed. It was 4:25 pm. If Jackson was going to contact me about getting together, it would be within the next hour. I set my alarm for 30 minutes, not wanting to miss anything. Of course as soon as I laid down, I got texted by my ex-sister-in-law, who I adore, and who wanted to know if we could get together later in the week. I didn’t want to talk. I had the shakes from being so tired. I wanted to sleep, but I stayed awake and texted her for a while. I kept checking my email, just in case Jackson contacted me, but nothing new appeared in my inbox.

I re-set the alarm for 6pm, knowing in my heart that I wasn’t going to hear from him. I didn't sleep at all so I got back up and moped around the house. At 7:30pm I got a note saying he was hunkering down. There was simply too much going on with the show and the book and the…so he was going to stay in for the night. The Inn sent some chocolate covered strawberries to his room, making him feel like a “rock star.”

I wrote him back and said I understood and wistfully told him to save me a strawberry.

I went downstairs and ate a scoop of ice cream for my dinner. A second day had passed and I’d hardly eaten, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t hungry. I was just sad. I had a good cry, then washed my face and went to bed. I have to face my boring life and go back to worrying about getting my taxes done, how I was going to pay my mortgage, when I was going to get my car fixed. I didn’t want to go back to all that without first promising myself I’d work on figuring out why I was so sad and how I could make changes to enjoy my life more.

I would pick myself back up, gosh darn it, just like in a 1950's musical. I’d focus on my work and focus on my words. I'd rescue more kittens. I'd wash that man right out of my (porn star) hair. I’d had a very nice run of good news after a very long drought. Meeting the Cat Daddy was as wonderful, if not better, than I imagined. He’s probably as good of a people-whisperer as he is with cats.

It’s a delicious feeling to get swept away by the thrill of having a heart’s desire realized, but it’s also bittersweet when it has to come to an end.

At least we’ll always have CVS and peanut butter stuffed pretzels.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson & Jackson Galaxy. This is how I would have preferred to end this post, but unicorns are tough to come by this time of year. Honestly, are we a cute couple or what?

As fate would have it, I got another email, but this one wasn’t from Jackson and what it said made my Grinch-sized smile grow three times larger. But what could possibly top this? We'll see my friends. We'll see.

------------------------

A serious note: To all of you who one day have the pleasure of meeting Mr. Galaxy, do me a favor won't you? Treat him kindly. Protect him from stress. Don't ask too much of him right now. Give him some breathing room so he can stay clear, keep his Cat Mojo intact, stay sweet. The kitties need him and so do we.

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For every copy of CAT DADDY pre-ordered before May 10, Tarcher/Penguin will donate $1.00 to the cause of saving shelter cats. To make your preorder count, simply e-mail your receipt (or a photo/scan of your receipt) to: CatDaddyBook@gmail.com.

Dining with The Cat Daddy, Jackson Galaxy. Part 2.

Of all the scenarios of the first moment I'd lay eyes on Jackson I’d shuffled through my head, Jackson brushing his teeth wasn’t one of them. Jackson mumbled to come in as his electric toothbrush whirred away, then headed into the bathroom to finish up. It felt a bit awkward, but sort of intimate at the same time. I made a dumb joke about having good oral hygiene, but my tongue got tied and Jackson missed what I said. I hung my Hello Kitty 20th Anniversary Jacket over the back of a chair and put my Tokidoki messenger bag onto the floor near the writing desk. Jackson entered the room and apologized for not being ready. I shook it off and said “Hello Jackson!” and held my arms open to get a hug, to which Jackson, without hesitation, walked over and threw his arms around me. I must say, Jackson gives good hug.

I took a look around the room. It was spacious and probably had a view of Long Island Sound, but it was a bit too dark to tell. There was a big bed at one end of the room. That’s where Jackson sleeps, I thought. Where is the sign over the bed marking the occasion? Where is the cat? This room needed a cat. I should have let him borrow one of mine—maybe Pee-tunia. Yes, I bet you can guess why I call her Pee-tunia. Maybe Jackson could work with her? Maybe he could take her with him when he leaves? I had to tell myself to focus…get back on the program, stop wasting time. This wasn’t a commercial break where I could run to the bathroom or get a pizza. Jackson was sitting right in front of me!

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“Artist's” (that means me), interpretation of Jackson in his room.

The décor was so NOT Jackson. It was frilly, and chintz-y and toile-y. I shook my head and laughed, then said something about it and Jackson agreed. It was quite amusing to witness the clash of Mr. Cat Daddy who was sitting on a chair, putting on his socks, in such a yuppie stronghold. He was wearing a green t-shirt that had a “Fidel Catstro” graphic on it and his jeans were soft blue and a bit worn. Since his forearms were exposed, I could see his trademark tattoos blazing up each arm. I wanted to touch them to see if they would move, but I didn’t dare. His earrings were bigger and bolder than my own small diamond studs. His signature facial hair was a bit grown out, though the beard that grew off his chin was long and dark. I noticed he would stroke it occasionally, as if it were a cat. Again, I wanted to find out what it felt like, but I kept my hands to myself. Why have all those colors and fun textures on your body if you don’t let other people touch them? Geez.

The buzz of nerves I was experiencing started to simmer. It was so curious to be with someone I’ve only seen on my television, now sitting in front of me, so casually putting on his shoes. I felt so lucky, not to see him put on his shoes (come on, really?!), but to be in the room with him.

Jackson’s at a very interesting point in his life. He’s about to start working on Season Three of “My Cat From Hell” and though he has a lot of notoriety, his star-power has not yet fully reached orbit. He has no entourage along with him on this trip and has the space to walk the streets anonymously from time to time. Jackson has rocket-powered momentum and great potential. He knows he can pay his bills doing consulting, but he could really hit it big, IF he can manage to survive all the additional challenges he has ahead of him.

Jackson finished getting ready as we talked. He’s very easy going and we were having a good chat, but we were both starving and eager to get some food. It was already almost 8pm so we decided to go to the hotel restaurant instead of search for food options elsewhere since things tend to close up early. We ain't in New Yawk City after all.

We got off the elevator, not knowing which direction the restaurant was, so we guessed left and headed towards the Check-In area. The woman at the Front Desk told us the restaurant was in the opposite direction, so we turned around to head back where we came from. Getting turned around was becoming a theme for the evening.

The restaurant looked small, but I could see it dog-legged (sorry, I don’t know any cat shaped directions) off to the left. The couple in front of us, was seated as Jackson and I stood at the Hostess stand, waiting. The Hostess looked up and smiled at Jackson then asked; “Your name, please?” I was about to say something so Jackson wouldn’t have to say his name out loud, but Jackson said; “Galaxy” which made me swoon. I know, I’m just a star-struck middle aged woman, but for that split second, the Hostess assumed I was a Galaxy, too. Like the Grinch, my smile, which is normally two sizes too small, grew three times bigger that moment and stretched wall to wall.

The Hostess smiled, selected two menus and said, “Right this way, please” and ”mind your step” as we both almost tripped down the stairs into a window-lined room that overlooked the Sound. I wished it wasn’t so dark so we could see the view, but I didn’t really care. I had what I wanted to look at sitting down at the table in front of me.

I had the option of sitting to Jackson’s right, on the padded banquette, or I could sit across from him and not only look at him as I ate, but at myself. There was a mirror running perpendicular to the banquette, behind Jackson’s head and the last thing I wanted to see was myself masticating away (I bet you think it was pervy that I wrote; masticating, but it means; chewing, so there). I told Jackson I didn’t want to watch myself eat so I took the seat closer to him—yeah, I’m smooth, right? Good excuse to get closer. Heh. Heh.

They sat us in a corner away from the other guests. I wondered if they realized who Jackson was and were giving us some privacy? I was so delirious at this point, I didn’t give it much thought. I was about to have dinner with Jackson Galaxy. Who knew? I said a silent prayer that for once in my life I wouldn’t drop something on my shirt while I was eating. I refer to myself as the “human drop cloth” so I had good reason to be nervous. I kept looking at the menu but the words didn’t make sense. Jackson was talking about something that was bothering him and I just wanted to help him talk through it.

The waitress came over to take our drink order and we settled on a bottle of sparkling water. A few minutes later, she came back and said they were out of what we wanted, but was Pellagrino okay? We both enthusiastically said yes, but I doubt either of us cared. She asked if we wanted lemon with our water and I blurted out that of course we wanted lemon, we were celebrating!

I flashed back to when I was in my 20's and at a restaurant with my father. He'd just flown in to Minneapolis for a business trip, where coincidently I was going to college. I was with my boyfriend, Paul, who my father was glaring at disapprovingly. To break the tension, when the waiter came over to the table I said it was my father's birthday. A few seconds later, a guy wearing a Hawaiian shirt carrying a ukelele came over to the table. Before anyone could speak, he played “You're Nobody Until Somebody Loves You” instead of “Happy Birthday.” My father was mortified, but Paul and I were giggling like idiots. I was feeling very playful and thought I should pull the same thing on Jackson. The waitress stopped and asked what we were celebrating. Jackson tensed up a bit. I felt like I put my foot in my mouth. The temptation was to say; “Our Anniversary” just to get a rise out of Jackson, but I got scared, then stumbled my words and said something about getting to meet each other or something lame like that—FAIL.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The best thing about this lobster roll was that Jackson Galaxy was a few feet away from it.

Eventually we ordered. I got a lobster roll and Jackson had salmon. Even though I’ve had a major jones for lobster for some time now I can’t tell you I tasted a single bite of my food. I just couldn’t get over the fact that I was chatting away with Jackson as if we'd known each other for years, instead of a few hours. He was kind enough to open up to me about some of the concerns in his life. I have to say it left me feeling very protective of him.

Jackson is a treasure, not only because of his kind heart, but because of what he has done and will continue to do, to keep cats in their homes.

Even if there might be other equally great cat behaviorists, Jackson has our attention and because of his appeal to a wide audience, perhaps they’ll be inspired to create a cat “super highway” in their home and be more thoughtful about assuming their cat is out to get them when it could be sick or having an emotional issue. As this article was about to go to press the news came out about the ratings for Season Two: “My Cat From Hell, which features cat behaviorist Jackson Galaxy tackling catastrophic cat cases, up 36% in season two” (which totally kicked the arse of the other programs on Animal Planet-hurrah!).

Jackson has the ability to help millions of cats stay in their homes and not be surrendered to shelters or abandoned to live on the streets. I wished there was something I could do to help him with this monumental task because I worried about the effects the stress has on him. He IS only human after all.

We had a lovely conversation. We didn’t only talk about cats. Jackson spoke about his future dreams for the show, for other things he hoped to achieve this year. We talked about our pasts, about weird cat problems, about cat rescue and the heartbreaking effects of compassion-fatigue. We picked at each other’s food. We made little jokes. I was happy and sad at the same time. I knew this dinner wouldn’t last forever, even if I wanted it to.

We must have sat there for a few hours, just nibbling and talking. We decided to head back up the room since I’d left my bag there. On our way out of the restaurant, one of the Chef’s stopped Jackson and asked for his photo. He was more than happy to oblige, but was a bit surprised that even in small town Connecticut, he was recognized.

A woman stepped forward to take the photo while I directed them under better lighting. Then I asked if she would take a photo of me with Jackson.

I’ve seen so many photos of Jackson posing at events with cat ladies, I had the idea to do a meme photoshopping Jackson together with all sorts of bizarre people and animals, too. But first it was my turn to join the distinguished group of “those of us who have stood next to Jackson Galaxy for a photo-op.”

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. At last. My moment in the sun with Jackson Galaxy.

Jackson put his arm around me and held me close and I returned the favor. Me likey! He leaned down to be nearer to my height. At 6’2” Jackson towers over me. After the woman gave me my iPhone back I showed Jackson the photo. He remarked; “I didn’t realize you were so little!” Me? Little? I was as happy as a cat with a Tickle Pickle™. Stick me with a fork, I'm done.

We went back to Jackson’s room and talked for a while longer. Jackson taunted me about his new iPad being superior to my first generation, but my iPhone is newer and has Siri and his doesn’t (so there, Jackson!). We downloaded apps and talked tech. I made him talk to my Talking Tom iPad app which repeats what you say, but it makes it sound like you just sucked on a balloon full of helium. It made me giggle. I was so happy I felt stoned.

If it hadn’t been so late, I think we could have kept talking for hours longer, but I could tell he was getting tired and I knew I shouldn’t overstay my welcome.

Jackson wanted to go to the store and didn’t have a car so I offered to drive us somewhere so he could get whatever he needed. Jackson grabbed the Room Service breakfast menu so he could place his morning order and he remarked at how much he loved room service breakfast. This is a man after my own heart, since I consider roughing it, not camping (because, hello! I am NOT a camper-ever), but staying at a hotel without room service. Jackson perused the menu, pondering what to get. I told him to get some apple juice since his tummy had been troubling him from the stress of the recent trip. He liked my idea then added a few other items. He kept looking at me oddly, challenging me that I ever lived in Minnesota. With his musician's ear he found my accent rather odd, something I never realized. It wasn't midwestern twang per se, but it wasn't clearly the nasal quality of a New York accent, either. He felt sure I must have lived in Chicago for a time, but I promised I had only visited there and that maybe my accent was a blend of Minnesotan and New York which would put me sort of into the Chicago area? I enjoyed the fact that he seemed to be puzzled by me. Of course, to me, I don't sound like I have an accent at all.

He was so tired I helped him remember his room number to complete the order. He got his jacket on and hung the menu on the door to be picked up later that night by the room service staff. He paused for a moment. I could tell he was so tired he needed help thinking again, so I said; “room key?” He checked and yes he had it. “Wallet?” Check. “Okay, let’s go.”

It felt so familiar to me to do this, as if we’d been traveling together before. Before we left the room, I took a look back and scanned the space, committing it to memory. There was Jackson’s suitcase. There was Jackson’s Mac Book Pro sitting on Jackson’s bed. There was Jackson’s new HD iPad sitting on the table, across from the flat screen TV. There was no sign of the guitar case with the cat eyes painted onto it, but I didn't expect to see it, either.Here I was, about to leave, the night almost over, as he pulled the door closed behind us.

I asked the young woman at the Front Desk where we could go to pick up a few snacks. She gave us the WORST directions in the universe. Good thing I basically knew where to go. Jackson was so sweet. As we were leaving the Inn he said; “Not to be mean or anything, but didn’t she seem matronlly? She’s so young to be acting so old.” I agreed. It made me sad. I hoped she was happier away from work. Maybe it was a Connecticut-thing for a twenty-something year old girl to be acting like…someone my age!? (Hey, at least I act young!)

Then I realized, wow, Jackson Galaxy is going to ride in my car! Precious cargo! I’d have to put a plaque on the passenger seat and prevent anyone from changing the position of it ever again.

We went outside. It was [censored] cold and windy. My car was parked a short distance from the lobby. Jackson teased me that I parked too far away. He oogled my old car and told me to “own it” and not be shy that I drive a BMW (that is 12 years old!). He teased me again asking what midget was in the car before him, when he tried to sit down and his long legs wouldn’t fit. I said that it was because there was a cat carrier on the seat a few days ago and to shut up. I can’t believe I told Jackson Galaxy to shut up, but I did.

He got his seat adjusted and I put the car into first gear. With the wind at our tail, we slipped off into the night in search of snacks.

…to be continued…

Dining with The Cat Daddy, Jackson Galaxy. Part 1.

Have you ever watched a movie or TV show and asked yourself; “Oh how I wish I could meet that star? I think he’s so amazing! He should marry me, not that toothpick-esque starlet he’s dating.”

But what if that dream came true? What if you were faced with meeting someone you admire but don’t really know? How would the reality match up with the fantasy? Could anything live up to our wildest imagination? What would happen if it exceeded our dreams?

Many of you know I live a very quiet life. I’m home most of the time and often go days without even venturing past my own front door. I have much to do with the cats, with working and writing, but in my heart I yearn for more. I feel restless, perhaps brought on by a cliché mid-life crisis? I want to get OUT of here and go on a vacation, see something new, just put my everyday life behind me for a while or maybe move away. I gotta stop watching House Hunters International, it just makes me feel itchier.

----------FRIDAY 3/23/12-----------

I launched Facebook. Like many of you, I’m on there all the time. I saw that I had a message waiting for me and I tried to guess who it might be from before I looked at it. I wasn’t expecting anything, but just assumed it was from one of my girlfriends.

When I saw the “reply to name,” my heart stopped and my mouth fell open. It was from Jackson Galaxy. Jackson, the sassy-Cat-Daddy from Animal Planet’s “My Cat From Hell.” What in the world would Jackson have to say to little old me? Sure, I interviewed him and we spoke on the phone a time or two after that, but I couldn’t think of any reason why he’d write me.

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It was a short note, letting me know that he was going to be in Connecticut to do the voice work for the audio book version of his new book, “Cat Daddy: What the World’s Most Incorrigible Cat Taught Me About Life, Love & Coming Clean”
…did I live nearby the recording studio? Did I want to maybe get lunch?

Who me?? Get lunch? With YOU???!!!!

Are you [censored] kidding me?!! YES!!!! “Of course,” I wrote. “I’d drive 500 miles to meet you for lunch.” I was playing it cool—FAIL!

Then reality sunk in…oh my God he’s going to be here in a few days. I do not have time to:

• Loose 50 pounds
• Get some sort of plastic surgery
• Think about important and/or clever things to say
• Buy a new outfit
• Become a dazzling new person all-together as I’ve seen happen on made-for-TV movies

I basically had time to get my car washed and maybe buy some new mascara since I’d been meaning to do that anyway. But, wait..JACKSON GALAXY wants to meet for lunch! Even if it never came to pass, he asked me! I felt a wave of adrenaline wash through my body. The somber expression I’ve worn these past few years vanished. I was ignited with energy from the sheer idea, alone, that this could come to pass.

Wow. I had to sit down. I WAS sitting down!

I’m glad I’m a Buddhist because I realized very quickly that my mind was spinning out of control and I needed to s-l-o-w down. Take a deep breath. Relax. Think it through. Robin, he’s just a man, just like anyone else. See? Your heart can slow down to a normal rhythm now.

Are you [censored] kidding me??!! JACKSON G-G-GALAXY!!!

Jackson was due to arrive to Connecticut on Monday and was going to leave on Wednesday or thereabouts. Of course, on TUESDAY, when it might be best for lunch, I found out that’s when Kitten Associates was going to get an incredibly huge and generous donation of canned cat food from HALO!

I had arranged for some of the local press to be at my home to interview me about the delivery so there was no way I could skip out and meet Jackson if he chose Tuesday as the day for our meeting.

But why did he ask me to lunch? Well, of course my mind started spinning again. I really had to stop letting my mind take off with various scenarios, I had to focus on getting things off my plate so I COULD go see him should the opportunity present itself.

-------SUNDAY 3/24/12----------

As usual, I over-think everything. I realized I might be too enthusiastic about getting together and, in truth, Jackson IS a real person (right?) and from speaking with him a few times before, I got the sense that he was a very decent person, someone I respected. I didn’t need to feel awestruck.

So, as women tend to do, I decided to write a SHORT note, telling Jackson that I didn’t want him to worry that I was a freaky-fan or that I considered every moment of our time together to be an interview. Yes, I would write about meeting him—how could I not?

I’m all about the journey. Jackson trusted me enough to offer this meeting. I wasn’t going to blow it by trying to dredge up painful facts about a private person just to get hits on my blog. I just won’t do it. So, no interviewing, just hanging out.

Then I started to worry that I said too much and I didn’t look at my email again for the rest of the day. I was afraid of his reaction. Maybe I should have just shut up?

-------MONDAY 3/25/12----------

There was a message for me on Facebook. Low and behold it was from Mr. Galaxy. He changed his mind about us meeting for lunch. He offered to meet for dinner instead! Breathe, Robin, BREATHE! But when? Tonight? Tomorrow? Jackson was in communication lock-down while he was recording his audiobook so I couldn’t reach him to get the details sorted out.

There was a time in my life when if I didn’t know exactly what was going to happen and what time and where I was going I would get really annoyed. I found that the challenge of having to stay on my toes, not knowing if I needed to be ready to drive 50 miles or put my pj’s back on and watch tv that night was exciting. Gee, The Bachelor wasn’t on any more since Ben picked that creepy Courtney, so I had an extra reason not to want to stay home.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Maggie, my super-stylist, getting into the photo, while I grab a shot of my curls. She and I like to call this my “porn star hair”-perfect for meeting celebrities, right?

So I got busy. I got my hair done. I got my car washed. I got my glasses fixed…hey, they were falling off my head. I stopped myself from doing too much. Around 4pm I got home and got ready to go. I had a load of laundry running and my jeans were in the dryer. I put on some makeup and looked at my old face. I thought about all the cool women Jackson must meet who wear heavy eyeliner and lots of eye shadow. They probably have cool tattoos, too, whereas I have only some freckles. I went through that neurotic thing many of us all do, we don’t think we’re good enough just being ourselves. When I realized that, I stopped worrying. I’m fine the way I am. This is me, love it or not. I trusted that Jackson would appreciate me for my heart and my mind, even if everything else was a bit worn down.

At 5pm I got a message from Jackson. Did I want to meet for dinner that very night or Tuesday? I wrote him back, a bit worried he would be jet-lagged and told him I would do whatever was best for him and I was flexible (my mind was screaming to tell him I wanted to go now! not wait! but I didn’t want to be pushy)

He called me a few minutes later and said if I was up for the drive we could meet for dinner or not. He wasn’t ambivalent, but maybe the reality was kicking in for him, too? We spoke for a few minutes and immediately started to have a very energetic conversation. It was very apparent to me that we needed to meet and meet that night.

Once in a blue moon, I meet someone I just click with. I can say whatever I want and they will just fling it right back at me.

We started joking around and I told him I was going to get in the car and be there by 7:30pm. Then Jackson asked me if I was sure, realizing it was going to mean a late dinner (which, by the way, I hadn’t eaten a thing all day I was so nervous). I told him I wouldn’t sleep if we put it off for another day. He innocently asked me why. I just said; “Are you [censored] kidding me? I’ll be there as soon as I can!”

I ran up to the laundry room and my stupid jeans were stupid-wet! Ugh..I finished getting ready, while I tried to get my jeans to dry. Clearly they were going to need at least another 30 minutes so I just put them on. It was a disgusting feeling, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care it was 37° F outside and that it was incredibly windy, either. I’d crank the heat in the car and I’d forget about my jeans. I gotta go! I have a…meeting? What do I have? It’s not a date? Oh geez..there goes my mind again…next!

It’s 50 miles to the top secret location where Jackson was staying. He’s in a “Ye Olde Typical Connecticut Inn.” He even told me his room number! Yikes! He was really trusting me not to call ALL my CT cat rescue peeps and tell them where I was going. I wanted to tell the WORLD where I was going and who I was about to meet, but I didn’t dare do that. I didn’t want to be that sort of person. I hoped that Jackson and I could be friends and friends don’t betray their friend’s trust. Okay, I DID tell a few of my girlfriends I was going to dinner, but that was IT. I was in a purposeful news blackout online.

On I-95, a very dangerous stretch of highway, I almost got taken out by a Porsche rounding a turn in New Haven. Although I had the tunes cranked and was running through a million scenarios of what was about to happen, I drove very carefully and was able to get out of the way of the over zealous driver in time. It would be just my luck to get into an accident and never see Jackson in person!

At last I saw the exit I needed to take and got off the highway. My GPS said it was only 3 more miles. Just think, Jackson Galaxy is sitting in a hotel 3 miles from where I was at that very moment and I was one of the few people in the world who knew that.

I arrived at the location and my stupid jeans were still damp. It was windy as Hell and I didn’t care if my hair got messed up. I had a smile plastered on my face. My cheeks were sore from smiling so much. I walked into the hotel. I said hello to the woman at the Front Desk and asked to be directed to Jackson’s room since I knew the number. I was so excited I walked right past the elevator she pointed out to me.

Once I got to the correct floor, I walked right past Jackson’s room, not realizing it. I thought I was close, so I decided to text him: “Knock, Knock” instead of knocking on his door for real. I noticed I’d gone too far and turned around, trying to get to his door before he opened it. As I reached his room, the door opened.

There stood Jackson Galaxy…brushing his teeth.

…to be continued...

Harvest Time for Bob's Pumkin Patch

On Sept. 3rd of last year, my beloved cat Bob Dole passed away. I needed to do something positive with the energy I felt from the pain of heartbreak. I decided to rescue some orange cats in Bob's honor. A few days after Bob died, as fate would have it, I was contacted about a family in need at a Kill Shelter-all orange tabbies. I took one look and knew that this was my rescue.

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©2009 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob J. Dole.

The mama, barely 9 months old and her six newborns were all struggling. Mama was underweight at only 4 pounds. The kittens were not getting enough nutrition because the mama wouldn't eat for the four long days she was in the shelter. As a result, within a week of rescue, we lost 3 precious souls. It was my rescue's first loss times three, all passing over the course of 12 hours. You can read more about the early days HERE and HERE.

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©2011 Betsy Merchant. The little family before rescue.

Though we worried we would lose them all, 3 kittens, all boys, did survive so we named them, Jake O'Lantern (Jakey), Teddy Boo (Teddy) and Mikey D. Cider (Mikey). Their mama, was named after Bob. I called her, Bobette.

Bobette limped. She must have been injured at a very young age, because her leg had grown into a twisted position. We arranged for Bobette to have corrective surgery once the family was ready to come to Connecticut and Dr Mixon did a great job on the difficult repair.

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©2011 Maria S. Teddy, Jakey & Mikey.

The boys did very well. Without the extra competition for food, they great fat and sassy and began their wobbly walks which turned into refined graceful dances. They were energetic, affectionate and confident warriors in the world. I thought they'd all be adopted in a heartbeat, but once they arrived in Connecticut, I was surprised we didn't get many applications on them. The ones we got weren't up to snuff for one reason or another. I'm fiercely overprotective of my foster cats. I work on being open minded about adopters, but I have to balance that with the fact that Maria, our super foster mama in GA and myself put a lot of time into these cats-with careful attention to their socialization and behavior. I wouldn't work so hard to have stable, sweet kittens, then put them into a home where they would be stressed, fearful and not given the love they deserve.

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©2011 Maria S. Jakey, Teddy, Mikey and Mama (far right).

It took many months but finally Teddy was adopted by a young couple with a big Great Dane. We spent a lot of time talking about separating the two until Teddy and their dog would be acclimated to each other. I warned them that although their dog was trained that she could revert to her basic instincts and that Teddy should NEVER be left alone with the dog.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Jakey (left) & Mikey (right).

I checked in with the couple periodically and things didn't sound like they were going too well. After two weeks, I wrote them to see how Teddy was. Apparently, they wanted to return him. Their dog "forgot" her training and went after the poor kitten! Without pause we took Teddy back home and out of danger.

The timing was perfect because Mikey had been adopted by a lovely couple from Massachusetts the night before and Jakey was miserable being alone.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Chillin' on the cat tree.

Teddy was reunited with Jakey. You can see the video of their meeting HERE. After a few minutes, it was clear the boys not only knew each other but missed each other. After all that had happened to Teddy, I decided that the boys would HAVE to stay together, no matter what. It would mean saying a lot more "no's" to adopters. If they couldn't say yes to both, then the deal was off.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Silly T.

The boys were BIG and no longer cute kittens. Each day that passed I began to worry a bit more. Soon it would be "kitten season" and there would be plenty of competition, making getting the boys a home would be even harder, but every day I'd see how bonded they were, walking side by side, pressed up against each other as if they were siamese twins. I couldn't break that bond.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Teddy.

An older couple offered to adopt the boys. At last! A good home! But the adoption fell through 10 days after the contract was signed. I was still holding the cats here because one of the adopters had had some surgery and wanted to get the kittens after her recovery. She decided it would be too much…too much nuttiness and she worried her 14 yr old cat and golden retriever would be bothered by the new arrivals (which I had challenged her about from the get go-so I suppose she realized that I had a point).

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Eat that cat tree!

So the boys stayed with me and as they grew, they stressed out my own cats and drove me crazy. Don't get me wrong, I love those boys, but they wanted more play time and attention and had no patience for meal time. They'd get into everything with a smile on their face, while I was constantly policing them and getting irritated that I couldn't have a few quiet moments to concentrate on work.

I wouldn't give up on them. I just waited for "the application" to arrive.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. I beat you up, so there!

I got a promising application last week. It was from a very sweet lady who loves her cats. She met all my criteria and had a great vet reference. Sam and I did a home visit and the family went out of their way to show me they were going to do whatever they could to make the cats welcome, keep them safe and provide appropriate care for them. I couldn't ask for more-okay they have no doors on any rooms because they're remodeling their home, so introducing the kittens to their 12 year old cat was going to be "interesting" to say the least.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The final squeeze for Teddy.

 


©2012 Robin A.F Olson. Before you get sad that Bobette's boys are gone, watch this video of Jakey's farewell to his mom. Listen carefully!

Yesterday morning, after taking my "goodbye photos" of the boys, the family arrived. They barely walked into the house before both boys ran over to them, sniffing their legs and rubbing up against them. They bent down to pet the cats and they were loving every second. I had them sit down on the floor in a circle. We had some toys and their son played with the cats. He started to smile after awhile and clearly was coming out of his shell. The young boy began to giggle as he got the kittens to jump and chase the toys. The sound lit up the feeling in the house. His mother said she hadn't heard him laugh like that in a very long time. He was very careful touching the cats and somewhat shy about it. His parents watched him, making sure he wouldn't harm the cats. I felt like this was a good fit and it was clear that they did, too.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The boys with their new family.

I usually have reservations about adoptions and I worry that I'm missing something that would tell me not to move forward, but this was so simple and natural. Of course the boys should go with this family. These are the people who should have had them all along. After Teddy was adopted two other times, this third time was the charm. Now he and his brother were guaranteed to stay together always. I couldn't be any happier.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Learning how to hold a cat. Fortunately Jakey didn't mind that he was almost bigger than his new friend.

The family packed up the boys and I said my farewell. I thought I wouldn't cry, but instead be happy for them. As the family got into the car, it hit me. I had to turn around and wave goodbye. I hustled into the house and broke into tears. I loved those cats as if they were my own and they were just about the last of my homage to Bob, too. In a way it was like losing him again, but this was a great adoption. After my tears dry I know I'll smile again.

 

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Goodbye Boys. Happy life my little pumpkins!

And not only that, I'll rescue more kittens again, too and we'll begin another story of rescue and finding a forever home. I can't wait.

Not On My Watch: Holding Breath

Sometimes I feel as though there really is some sort of interrelationship between all things. It's difficult to describe exactly what I mean other than by simply stating “it was meant to be”-when random events stitch themselves together to create a larger meaning-is something real. Or is that that I “stitch” those things together to make meaning for myself? Just because you can't “scientifically” prove something doesn't mean it doesn't occur. Science is flawed in that way because if they can't create a test to measure or study something then it cannot be true.

After yesterday's post about what cats would say if they could speak, I found out that my friend's husband accidentally struck and killed a pregnant cat with his car. He is devastated beyond description to not only have lost the mama, but the unborn kittens inside her, as well. As he and his wife mourned the loss, they mutually agreed that they need to rescue another cat and give it a home, in honor of the one who was lost.

This morning, Sam and I drove Gracie to Dr. Larry's so she could finally get her dental cleaning and extraction and have the growth on her abdomen removed and tested to find out if she has cancer. Jessica, who works the front desk, was only one person in the Clinic when we arrived. Since the clinic wasn't full of other clients needing attention, I asked if it would be ok if we put Gracie into her cage and got her set up. I often go into the back of the Clinic so it wasn't unusual. Gracie is so scared of everything, it was the least I could do to see her off properly.

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Gracie on the way to Dr. Larry's this morning.

As I set down her carrier, I noticed another cat carrier. It was old, odd, two-tone green plastic crate and far too small for the cat inside it. Crammed into the tiny space was what appeared to be a very big cat. I asked who the cat was and found out that his name is Jasper and he's 20 years old. He's in renal failure. His owner dropped him off to be euthanized. She didn't even have the decency to be with him, instead left him there to end his life at the hands of the good people who work with my Vet. My heart sank.

I asked if it was his time or did he need better supportive care? Was he getting sub Q fluids? Was he on a good diet? She told me that he was brought in last week because he had stopped eating, but they got him to eat and he perked up and ended up going back home, but now this owner said it's time. She won't give him sub Q fluids, perhaps his is too tough to handle. She's done what she can, but clearly has given up.

I couldn't even see the cat's face. All I could see was that he was white and brown tabby. He couldn't stand or even turn around he was in such a small space. I told Jessica that I thought I might have another option and that to please have Dr. Larry consider that I could re-home the cat and possibly give him the extra time he may have left.

She said she would pass along the information, but since none of us knew how seriously ill he was, there was no way to know if he was going to survive the day.

I called my friend and told her about the cat. She said, of course, they would take him, but couldn't take him until Thursday. I made some calls and worked everything out. If Dr. Larry felt the cat wasn't ready to go and the owner would surrender him, that my rescue group, Kitten Associates would take him and pay for his boarding and medical care until he could go to his new home.

It's almost 11am and I'm waiting for news. I'm worried that the longer it takes for me to hear anything, the worse the news will be. I can't change the flow of this cat's life any more than I already have, but it seems curious to me that Gracie was supposed to have her Vet visit two months ago and is having it today. That last night my friend's husband should suffer a tragic event that caused him to want to adopt a senior cat and that today perhaps those decisions and tragedies should come together to create something wonderful…but it's too soon to know that.

All I know is that another cat got treated like trash, but I had his back this time and maybe his life is not meant to be over today. If he is gone, I will honor him with my tears and try again. There are so many out there who need help. I'm just waiting for a sign to know which one is next.

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