I bought an electric blanket for the feral cats even though once I shelled out $60 for it and it arrived, I found out you're not supposed to use it with PETS. Who cares if they stick their claw through the electrified wires?

Ok..I care, but the damn ferals won't even go INTO the stupid, but cute little feral cat house that we built for them. No matter what I do, I can't get the cats to go in there. They'd rather live outdoors and freeze their kitty-tushes off!

So I got into the habit of making sure the controller on the electric blanket says the blanket is heating. It turns itself OFF every 10 hours, regardless of whether or not you WANT it to go off every 10 hours!!!! What if you're really SICK and need the blankee 24/7? Yeah, it's preventing a law suit so they don't get nailed when the house catches fire because someone left their blanket on for days on end. This is all nuts to me. Just let me burn down my house if I want to. At least my feral cat house, which no cats live in, will be warm.

Tonight I was downstairs and I looked out into the room where the empty feral cat house was. I thought I'd go out and turn the pain in the ass electric blanket controller back ON. Why not..just in case the cats change their minds, right?

Fortunately, I had the wisdom to turn ON a LIGHT before I walked out into the feral room. Sitting on TOP of the feral cat house, was a Possum. All I could see was his little behind, so I walked over to another part of the basement where there's another window to get a better look. It's just a baby possum. It can't be more than 6 months old. He's all alone and looks so sad, but at least he's sitting on an old fluffy mattress pad. Must be nice on the toes, compared to the snow and ice that fell today.

He was just too cute to scare away, so I left him there. I know. I know. I shouldn't do that, but I just didn't have the heart tonight and besides, who says the cats have to get all the comforts of human home life?

Why does my gut tell me I'm going to pay for saying that?

Sunday's are for relaxing in the sunshine with a cup of tea, a good book and Bob at your side.

I thought I'd share this since Shelli posted (in the discussion forums, good lady!) about her cat's strange behavior-yeowling with a catnip toy in his mouth. Gracie does the same thing, regardless of the thing is a toy or REAL!

No mice were harmed in the shooting of this photo. It IS a toy..a very real, stomach-clenching-until-you're-for-certain-toy.

Does your cat yeowl when he or she has a toy in their mouth?

It's been a few MONTHS since Gracie first showed signs of Millary Dermatitis. Since then, I've had LOTS of test done. A few weeks ago, when I was working too much to bother to post anything (I know, lazy!), I found out that the HESKA blood test results were in!

For a mere $400!!!!!!!!!!!! I found out my stupid cat is allergic to stupid DUST MITES and stupid MOLDS!

(what about smart dust mites and smart mold..who knows?)

CRAP!

What PLANET do I have to move to where there ISN'T DUST MITES AND MOLD?

Why can't Gracie be allergic to, I dunno...ELEPHANTS! or maybe COFFEE? Then Sam would have to stop drinking it so much! But no! Noooooooo...Gracie is allergic to the one thing I can't get rid of.

Or can I?

I can be a decent detective when required and in this case, it didn't take long for me to realize two things:

1. Gracie spends most of her day in the bedroom.
2. There's a NEW RUG in the bedroom and it came from my 
Mother's Estate, where the house had a MILDEW problem 
and who-knows-what was still IN the RUG! AND AND AND...
we put it in the bedroom just around the same time 
Gracie broke out in the rash!

Now, to be clear, I DID have the rugs PROFESSIONALLY CLEANED AND SANITIZED before I brought them into the house, so I called the Rug Cleaners and talked to the owner and his son. They both told me there's NO WAY TO GET RID OF MOLD in a rug, even with "sanitizing."

So what are we SANITIZING the rug for, then???

I wanted to know about what chemicals they used and they were sort of tight lipped about that, but said it was nothing dangerous..ha ha..they also wanted to get the rug out of my house and have a look at it, then clean it all over again because it's only been a few months since they did the first cleaning.

The rug was moved to a holding area for a week, then they came and picked it up a few days ago. The bedroom floor squeaks and the rug muffled the sound. Now the sound is REALLY REALLY loud in the bedroom, but, at least, Gracie has a place to hang out where the friggen' dust mite population has been reduced.

I'm not certain, but I think Gracie is already getting a bit better. Either that or I just don't want to face giving her hyposensitization therapy (SHOTS) for the next YEAR...

Oh, and I have to bring her to see Dr. Larry again...ACK! I have to FACE Dr. LARRY! I said I LOVE HIM...OMG I'm dead meat.

I realize this is obvious to everyone in the universe, but it's weird... people actually read my BLOG.

I know.

That's the POINT, right?

I have these aspirations; that my small voice will penetrate the landscape and find crusty nooks and dimly lit crannies where cat-loving people dwell. That perhaps, my words will help them, make their day better, or give them a reason to laugh...yet writing is such a lonely task, usually done in a somewhat quiet room—if SAM would stop BANGING AROUND IN THE KITCHEN and STOP RATTLING THAT BAG OF CHIPS and if the CATS would STOP BITING THE STRING THAT HANGS OFF THE PLASTIC FILE FOLDER IN THE SHELF BEHIND ME. "Nom, nom, nom!!!!"

What's the uber-weirdest for me is realizing that not only do PEOPLE read this BLOG, but now I find out...PEOPLE I KNOW are reading it!

How can I write about them, if they read this? Now I'll be forced to be nice! God, I hate that! Why can't I just go on being a nasty you-know-what?

Tonight the phone rang. It was Dr. Larry.

"Oh good;" I thought "We can catch up about Gracie's treatment and Bob's barfing."

"My heart jumped out of my overly padded chest cavity as Dr. Larry kinda sorta gushed about how nice I am. Of course, this set off an alarm. What? Who? Not me? Huh? Then it hit me...he READ MY BLOG ENTRY about him being my family! Where I got all gushy and mushy about him-which was all completely true, but Dr. Larry doesn't play on the internet, so I figured he would never see it!

Bob reacts to the news, when I tell him that Dr. Larry read my BLOG...
and so did HIS WIFE!

Once again, DUH, Robin. Duh!

It seems that super-Vet tech Deb, somehow got the link to this website over to Dr. Larry's cute wife Cindy. She read the BLOG and, well not sure of her reaction exactly, other than it was GOOD (thankfully) and, of course, she told Dr. Larry, who she probably calls something other than DOCTOR, to hurry up and read this BLOG entry!

Now she wants me and bag-rattling-Sam to come over for dinner! I'm so embarrassed!I feel like I got caught admitting I have a crush on the Captain of the Jr High School Football Team (of course, this is when I am also in Jr High, not now, as a pervvy old person having a crush on a kid! Ewww! Gross)

Well, I can't edit myself too much and I won't change my ways...cough..for now because I haven't SEEN Dr. Larry yet and I am going to have to face him and his cute wife..ack!

Okay. Okay. I need to get a grip. Plus, I need to take some activated charcoal. That cold, leftover pizza I ate gave me the shits.

Oh, and wherever you are, THANKS DEB! THANKS!

P.S. 10 minutes later...I thought I would re-read the BLOG post about Dr. Larry (see the post about 5 down from this one). FU@K! I said I LOVE HIM! OMG..his wife said she wanted us to come over for dinner..but maybe so she only said it so she can LURE me to her home where she can confront me about what I wrote!!! Ack!

Bob stopped vomiting after getting a few days of meds. He's back to his old self, as you can see, below. I noticed he's still a bit sniffly, but his energy level is remarkable, considering his rough life history and lack of Vet care, 'til I got my hands on him (of course).

Bob's still got the biggest personality in town and never hesitates on reminding me of that, regardless of how he's feeling.

Dear Shelli,

I know how much you love Spencer, so I took a photo of him for you this morning. As you can see, he's no longer got the upper respiratory illness and he's looking like his feisty old self again.

Spencer sends his regards and invites you to come visit him whenever you're in the area (or on the way to IKEA!)

All the best to you and yours,

Robin, High Priestess of Covered in Cat Hair

Bob got sick this morning.

At first I hoped it was a hairball, but after his vomiting continued for an hour, I knew he was having a relapse. It was a big struggle to give him his meds since I was still being effected by the Cyclobenzaprine I took the night before. My hip was killing me, so I went for the big pain killer, instead of the good old handful of Advil. This stuff leaves me feeling like I have no bones, even though I'd taken the pill before I went to bed, here it was 9AM the next day and I was still under it's spell.

With zombie-like clumsiness, I attempted to overcome the feeling of rubbery arms and dislocated fingers, so I could stuff a 1/4 of a Pepcid and a 1/4 of Reglan into Bob. I was a miserable failure, even though it was the tiniest of pills I had to give him.

Try as I might, I couldn't do it. I finally got Sam to shove the pills into Bob, who struggled against both our attempts to pill him. Normally, I can pill Bob easily, regardless if I'm drugged at the time. This morning, he was a little maniac.

I went back to bed, to sleep off the meds—three times. No sooner than I started to fall back to sleep, I'd hear the familiar pumping-barf sound coming from downstairs. So I'd get up and trip down the stairs to check on Bob. He kept vomiting over the period of two hours, until all that was left was some foam from the antacid.

As angry as I was for being forced to get out of bed when I really needed sleep, my gut sank with despair.

"Is Bob going to have another BIG relapse?"

I began in envision having to take Bob back to Dr. Larry's for an IV and I flashed back on the nightmare of last year; not sleeping much for weeks while we tried to get Bob stable.

I don't feel well when my cats are sick. It truly eats at me and I don't feel a sense of peace in my heart or home until everyone is doing well.

It's 10:30pm and I did give Bob a small bit of food 5 hours ago. So far he's kept it down, but I think I'll skip feeding any of the cats more food tonight. They're all pacing anxiously and jump up every time I get out of my chair and go anywhere near where I keep their food, but their bellies are big enough to hold them over until the morning. By then I will know if Bob has started another decent down hill.

More to come...

I wish I wrote this! A friend of mine just sent it to me and I had to share it with all of you. I find it rather creepy since it sounds just like what happens at my house. Does this stuff happen to you, too?

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

To be posted VERY LOW on the refrigerator door, pet nose height.

Dear Dogs and Cats:

The dishes with the paw prints are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.

The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort. Dogs and cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.

For the last time, there is no secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered. Also, I have been using the bathroom for years --canine or feline attendance is not required.

The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dog or cat's butt. I cannot stress this enough!

To pacify you, my dear pets, I have posted the following message on our front door:

To All Non-Pet Owners Who Visit & Like to Complain About Our Pets: 
1. They live here.  You don't. 
2. If you don't want their hair on your clothes,
 stay off the furniture. That's why they call it "fur"niture.
3. I like my pets a lot better than I like most people. 
4. To you, they are an animal.  To me, he/she is an adopted 
son/daughter who is short, hairy, walks on all fours and doesn't speak clearly.

Remember: Dogs and cats are better than kids because they: 
1. Eat less 
2. Don't ask for money all the time
3 Are easier to train 
4. Normally come when called 
5. Never ask to drive the car 
6. Don't hang out with drug-using friends
7. Don't smoke or drink
8. Don't have to buy the latest fashions
9. Don't want to wear your clothes 
10. Don't need a gazillion dollars for college, and...
11. If they get pregnant, you can sell their children.

I consider Dr. Larry part of my family. We just bonded from the moment we met a gillion years ago, before he had his own practice. When he finally went solo, I became his client #26. He became my trusted friend-really like the brother I wish I had.