Robin Olson's blog

Donner declares; “Mmmm...nothing smells like home more than me mum's bum!”

Cupid does not care for me to read while I'm having one of my visits with her. She also likes to make sure she rubs her ringowrmy foot all over my book, my pants and anywhere else her rear left leg can reach.

In a way, I was grateful to her for interrupting my reading. I took it as a cosmic approval that the book sucked as much as I feared and I really shouldn't bother with it. I'd forced myself to read up to page 100 because the author is a famous, fancy-pants, but I just didn't get it. The story had too many back stories and not enough “forward” story. It just annoyed me. It annoys me to even write about it. I wanted to slap him and declare; “GET ON WITH THE F-ING STORY, will ya?!”

Who is the author, you ask? I can't say. It would be unprofessional of me to reveal HIS name because HE wrote something that was made into a crappy mini-series AND he won a Pulitzer for one of his novels. And he lives in Maine. And his latest book is about Cape Cod. That's all I'm sayin' and NO, I do not think the book was “FUNNY” as I've seen others declare.

He wrote about getting crapped on by a seagull. That is NOT funny. It's especially not funny if you're traveling in Scotland, with a family you just met, and a giant flying rat craps down your arm, in front of two young children, who are suddenly shocked into silence because they have good manners, but whose eyes are about to pop out of their heads because they want to laugh so badly. They wait for a nod of the pooped-upon to let them know it's all right to laugh their asses off, while you try to swab away the shit storm on your sleeve.

See? It's funny when I tell about MY experience of being pooped on, but in this book eh, not so much. Plus, being pooped on is just a few lines of a bigger story. It's not going to win anyone a SECOND Pulitzer, 'cause if there was a Poop Pulitzer, well, stand back because I would surely win it!

I really hope I don't have to change the name of my web site to: Covered in Ringworm. I really don't. I'm not a big fan of change, in the first place, and it would be an understatement to say this was an unwelcome surprise.

Ahhh...life is good for Cupid. If we only knew then...

I've gotten a lot of emails from other folks that do rescue. I feel like I've been sitting in a bar, shootin' the shit with my war Veteran buds. We're kickin' back some brewskis, bitchin' about our wives (well, more likely, cats, in this case). Their reaction to the state-of-the-worm is always the same: [cue inhalation of cigarette smoke and exhale while speaking] “Yeah, I had ringworm go through about ____ cats. I was real lucky because my own cats must have built up an immunity to it since they'd had it before (BEFORE??!!). That is just one thing you don't want to have to deal with. It's just a nightmare.”

[cue additional smoking] “Yeah, I knew a rescue group that had to shut it's doors for ___ months when one of their kittens broke through enemy lines with it. Oh man, it was bad! There were medics scrambling everywhere, trying to get a handle on the situation, but it was dire. No one got much sleep for weeks, that's for sure.”

[order another round of beers] “In '67...I'll never forget it. The look in their eyes when I told them it was Ringworm. Those damn swamps-all that wet, leads to no good. No good. And all that ointment. The smell. I'll never forget that smell 'til the day I die.”

We all nod silently. Everyone knows about the Ringworm epidemic of '67 and still brings a chill down to our toes.

This is the foreign lesion!

One of the guys pats my hand in solidarity. She's fought that battle before and wants me to know she's right there with me...

...Until she realizes that I might be carrying Ringworm, too. At which point, she quickly smashes out her ciggy and makes a mad dash for the door and the waiting bottle of hand sanitizer in her car.

Blitzen, the Zombie-Kitten, called a Press Conference today to discuss the recent attacks on his helpless human foster parents. Sadly, no one showed up to the conference, save for me, so I'll do my best to report this exciting news bulletin.

Blitzen, who suspiciously enough, was born on Halloween of 2009, indicates that he is not the living-dead, Zombie-kitten we insist he has become, but rather a simple kitten, going through a hair-chewing-fetish phase.

“I can't help myself," said Blitzen. “There are far worse things on heaven and earth that a cat could get caught up in, like peeing on the sofa or clawing the curtains. I have no interest in eating brains, that I know of. So far I've been eating turkey, chicken, sometimes a little salmon, but NO BRAINS! I'm being framed, I tell ya. Eating hair does NOT make me a ZOMBIE!”

Sources close to Blitzen are spreading rumors that the little fella is headed off to Rehab, somewhere in Arizona, near where Tiger Woods is suspected to be seeking treatment for sexual addiction. Of course, Blitz won't be at the SAME facility since his foster kitten salary only provides for “just the basics” sort of place.

As I watched Blitzen's passionate plea for understanding, a tear rolled down my cheek (I had something in my eye). That poor little kitten. So innocent and fresh, already being cruelly blamed for actions that were not his doing...but then something occurred to me. We use brain flavored shampoo!!!!

Oh my GOD! He's just waiting until he grows larger, into a full-fledged Zombie-CAT, when his true nature will come forth and he'll have the strength to open our skulls! By then our defenses will be down! It will be too late!

I mustn't let on that I know. I know the truth about Blitzen. He wasn't framed! He IS a ZOMBIE-KITTEN! I must come up with a plan to rescue us from his powerful cuteness! I must get him adopted out to another family! I must not adopt him!

Either that or we have to change shampoo! It's for his own good!

Prancer does what cats do best, nap!

It's that time of year again. Time for Punxsutawney Phil to make hopeful predictions about the upcoming weather. Will winter lose it's icy grip soon or will we have to endure six more weeks of bone-chilling temps?

This year, through my very high-up contacts, I was able to ask Phil to add a prediction, just for me—well, for my foster cats. I asked Phil if he could tell me WHEN my fosters would be ready to get adopted. After all, they've been here for over a month and they appear to be getting to a point where maybe they're well enough to go to their forever homes.

Phil pondered my question for a moment, then came out of his snug burrow. His answer was clear:

I could have saved $278 by not taking Cupid to the Vet this morning and just figured, heck, the cats are going to be here FOREVER. Might as well get used to the idea of having TWELVE cats.

It appears that the little bald patch on her right rear leg is most likely

RINGWORM

Que the scary violin music! Cupid, watch out! The RINGWORM-Psycho is gonna get you. It's right behind you! Ack! Hey, don't rub your ringworm on the bed, while you're at it, OK?

We did a DTM culture, which takes 7-10 days to get a result. In the meantime, I have to treat the area externally, for now. No need for nasty anti-fungals. If Cupid gets another patch, she WILL have to take the meds. The hope is that we caught it quickly enough. Cupid also had a nasty rodent ulcer on her mouth and her blood tests showed a falling Hematocrit level, which could add up to an immune disorder (FIV+, FeLuk), so we re-did her combo test. Showed she still is negative/negative and negative for heartworm, too. We ran another CBC to see if she's doing better. She's certainly gained weight-up about THREE POUNDS now and she is still a sweetheart.

Of course, her kittens have been exposed to her, and so have we, and so has OUR BEDROOM. Cupid is to be quarantined from all of us for the next SIX WEEKS. Hence Phil's prediction. “He told me so,” I know!

So poor Cupid is locked up in the bathroom. It's cold and dark in there, so I'm going to go out and buy her a heater and a cat tree so she has some vertical space in the tiny room. I feel TERRIBLE about this. Saturday we were going to put her up for adoption. Now it will be March 16th before she is cleared again.

The bedroom's been cleaned up, kinda-sorta and I'm doing a mountain of laundry. I cleaned up the foster room as best I could, but I already know that Donner likes to groom her mama, so I'm guessing any day now the kittens will break with ringworm, too. They'll all have to stay put. No more running in and out of our bedroom for now.

If I only knew then, what I know now. Don't lick da Mama, Donner!

I'm going to take it in stride, not have a nervous breakdown, but I may begin to fantasize about running away from home or becoming an alcoholic or both.

Maybe I should ask Phil? Six more weeks of madness or is sanity just around the corner? If you see Phil, please don't ask him for me. I don't want to know the answer.

RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!!!!

He looks so INNOCENT! Don't let his cute face fool you! He wants to eat your brainz!

This post is not for the faint-of-heart. This is about a kitten, who was cuddly and sweet when he was little, but who has now turned EVIL. Yes! He IS a ZOMBIE-KITTEN!!!! His only interest is to CHOMP on an innocent Blog-writer's head, taking huge mouthfuls of hair, in a depraved desire to gnaw away until the skull can be penetrated and the juicy brains gush forth!

I don't know how much longer I can survive this vicious attack, but at least I was strong enough to warn all of you that if you see this furry fiend to RUN, RUN, RUN away-just as fast as you can!

Consider yourself warned...ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!

Looks like that red squirrel? baby fox? is going to play a trick on Mr. Hunter-Kitty!

Clean up in aisle 9!

By the way, no, we do not leave our towels on the floor. They're hung on the racks (see top right) Prancer has a mouthful of toilet paper. She's licking her lips. I can't understand why, since the TP came out of the GARBAGE CAN! Donner (front) seems to think if she squooshes down no one will see her. Huh. Right!