Rest in Peace

It's been almost eight months to the day that my beloved cat Bob Dole passed away. His death came slowly, from lymphoma and the return of a hepatic cancer that I thought had been surgically removed right after Christmas of 2010.

Bob's last year was bittersweet. His once magnificent coat was reduced to tattered ruin since he could not fight off a fungal infection because he also had FIV+ and his immune system was compromised. He grew thinner and weaker. The once boss of the household grew quieter and let others rule the roost. He ate less and less and even after months of chemo and other treatments, I had to syringe feed him. I knew nothing could save him, but I never stopped trying to give him another day…another good day. [You can read about Bob's last days-though it's a TISSUE WARNING multipart post, HERE, HERE, HERE, HERE and HERE]

©2007 Robin A.F. Olson. My most beautiful Bob at 16 pounds of pure pouffy perfection.

When Bob passed away I lost a dear companion and part of my heart, even though we'd only spent five years together. Bob used to be my Mother's cat. After she died in 2006, I took Bob in and his presence was so grand that even now it feels empty in the house without him.

©2009 Robin A.F. Olson. After a "lion cut" he looked so CUTE!

Bob was the greeter, the peacekeeper, the big love muffin and had the best purr I've ever heard. He had just the right amount of sass that just made everyone love him all the more. Whenever I said his name aloud, people's eyes would light up and they'd laugh. They asked funny questions about if Bob Dole, the cat, referred to himself in the third person as Bob Dole the former Vice President of the United States did (the answer was of course, yes).

©2007 Robin A.F. Olson. Welcome to mah belleh.

Even now it's very difficult for me to write about Bob, to look at photos of him, without crying. There will never be a new photo of Bob, his dazzling orange coat and lime green eyes sparkling with that “Puss in Boots” expression he gave me when he wanted a treat. Now his ashes lay inside a tin box I have in my living room. It sits next to some framed photos atop a glass shelf. When I can, I have a candle burning, too, in his honor, as if there was a chance I might forget him. He meant more to me than any cat I've known and will probably ever know again.

Shortly after Bob died, my friend and client, Warren Royal, contacted me. I've written about Warren and his wife Terri. These people have the biggest hearts and deepest love for cats. They've saved the lives of countless cats and taken a few of them into their home. They will stop at nothing to help a cat. You can read about them HERE and HERE.

Warren's company is called Royal Bobbles,™a premium bobblehead manufacturing company specializing in exquisite historic figures. I've designed a few of their outer cartons for Alfred Hitchcock, Mark Twain, Smokey Bear and the cast of American Pickers. They also create custom bobbleheads to celebrate weddings or birthdays or to use as fundraisers.

Can you see where this story is going? I sure didn't-at first.

©Royal Bobbles, Inc. Bob the bear?

Warren asked me if I'd like them to create a BOBblehead and of course I accepted right away. The process might take some time, he warned. They'd never done the likeness of a cat and said it would be tough to do, but they wanted to try. I was delighted to have a chance to memorialize my dear cat.

©Royal Bobbles, Inc. Bob looking more cat like.

And so, over the past eight months, we've been working to get it right.

There was a sculptor in China who began working on a form. It was sad to realize that cats aren't pets in China and I don't want to write about what they do to them there. Memorializing a cat was certainly out of the norm so it took many trials and refinements, but eventually it got sorted out.

©Royal Bobbles, Inc. Okay, clearly something is lost in translation. Is that a BOOB next to BOB?

I began to realize how difficult it would be to capture the sad-eyed look of Bob regardless of how many photos I sent for reference. Even though I had to ask for changes, I was impressed with the dedication Warren and his team had in making every detail just right. I didn't want to think about how much all of these revisions were costing him to get done and though I tried to love everything they did, even Warren would often write and say he didn't love it either and wanted to push back for more edits.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Say hello to Bob the Bobblehead.

A few weeks ago after Warren hired another artist to repaint our little BOBblehead, who did an outstanding job. We all agreed that Bob was finally done and a few days ago my BOBblehead arrived. When I opened the box I held my breath as I carefully unwrapped the base, then the bowl, then finally Bob. I held him in my hand and his little head jiggled back and forth. I looked at his face and though it would never be Bob, somehow his “Bobness” had been captured. I smiled as tears ran down my cheeks. If I couldn't have the real Bob, this would be a lovely way to memorialize him.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Nice pouffy tail there! (Bob is sitting on his flannel blankee)

I rearranged my shrine to Bob to make space for the new addition. I wondered what Bob, the cat would have thought about all this fuss. He probably would have said not to bother and that we're just being silly humans. That may be the case, but it's comforting to have the little guy here.

I know it took a lot of work and patience to get this done and I'm extremely grateful to Warren and his crew for their efforts. I just love my BOBblehead!

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The shrine complete, with Bob's ashes in the blue tin to the right and the Maneki Neko candle my friend Irene made for me from her own bee's wax.

The sun just rose on another day. My fingers are cold from typing with the windows open. It's another day without Bob, yet in a way, Bob has returned. I hope this Bob will be with me always as a reminder of one very special cat, gone too soon.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Good night, Bob. Rest in Peace.

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This may be a bit odd, but I know there are some of you who have followed Bob's life story for many years and who have come to love him as I do. Though it was NEVER my intention to profit from this experience, I'd like you to know that if you'd like your own BOBblehead, to contact me at info@coveredincathair.com . Depending on how many orders we get will drive the per unit cost of the piece. The more orders, the lower the price. I will put everyone on a list and let you know in a week or so how much they would be and if you want to order one we'll figure something out.

If you want your very own Bobblehead of your cat, dog, friends, family or one of yourself, please DO visit Royal Bobbles and fill out a contact form and let them know Robin sent you! They do GREAT work and their prices are very reasonable.

Last week, our friend JaneA Kelley, lost her dear cat, Dahlia to atypical large-cell lymphoma. It all seemed to happen so quickly, just moments after JaneA moved into her new apartment, her concerns that something was wrong with her beloved cat, that had nothing to do with the stress of moving, came true. JaneA's blog, Paws & Effect, followed Dahlia's life and sudden passing in moving detail. You can read about Dahlia's passing HERE.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

Dahlia, along with her kitty-family, Thomas T. Bombadil & Siouxsie Mew are well known to fans of cat blogs around the world, so we all felt great sadness when JaneA posted the news that Dahlia was gone. We lost one of our own.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

As a friend, I just wanted to make it better. I hate to hear about cats passing away. I never want any cat to die-that's why I do cat rescue. I wanted to do more than simply say I was sorry or send a card. So, if you'll watch the video posted here, you'll see what I've done in honor of Dahlia's life and these photos will make more sense.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

To JaneA and her furry family, my condolences on your loss. Because of all your stories about her, Dahlia will live on forever.

Yesterday I got a heartbreaking comment on a post I wrote two years ago about the dangers of giving your cat Metacam®. The cat guardian found my post after he had given Metacam to his 13 year old cat because she had hip dysplasia and he wanted her to be comfortable. He noticed his cat became constipated and called the Vet to ask if the Metacam was the culprit and they said it was unlikely. He backed off giving his cat the medication and she got better, but she was still having pain in her hips so he felt obliged to give her the Metacam again.

The constipation returned to the point of her crying and straining when she attempted to defecate. She began vomiting so her guardian took her to the Vet. They determined she was in renal failure (based on blood work). They offered treatment but gave the cat about nine months to live. The guardian, feeling like he wanted to do what was best for his cat, chose to have her humanely euthanized. After she died, he did some research online and found out he could have treated her and she probably would have lived much longer- and clearly, too, it was possible that the Metcam caused her renal failure!

He wrote me, broken hearted. His cat was gone. Here he was trying to do the best he could for her and felt he had failed her.

What went wrong?

This brings up a few points I'd like to share about how to work with your Vet during your cat's health crisis. Notice I didn't write; “How to listen to your Vet and do what they tell you and not ask questions.”

If you're NOT someone like me, who has a lot of cats and is always at the Vet or learning about cat health, then it's very easy to put the decisions into your Vet's hands and not take an active roll in your cat's health decisions. The second you do this almost guarantees that later on you'll have a lot of regret. If your cat isn't in an emergency situation, like she was injured in an accident or ate something poisonous, then use common sense. Take the time to find out what the Vet is talking about. Even if it means, as I have done in the past, sitting down with a report in one hand and looking up terms online so you can decipher an ultrasound report, then do it. Here are other things to ask:

• If your vet says to change your cat's diet to a “prescription diet” 
or give them an antibiotic ask him or her WHY are they making this recommendation?
What side effects or other issues can this medication cause? Is there something
you can do to help offset the side effects (like give probiotics at a timed interval
after giving an antibiotic). What's in this food that's so good for my cat? 
Is it species appropriate or full of grain that will sicken my cat further? 
• How will your cat benefit from this treatment or is the Vet simply 
not sure what is going on and wants to try something to see if it works? 
You'd be surprised at how often that happens.
• Is this medication specifically ok to use in cats or is 
this an “off label” use? 
• Would my cat benefit from seeing a homeopathic, holistic or 
eastern medicine Vet? What about acupuncture? If the cat had 
bad hips, she may have done well with that therapy, alone.

©2007 Robin A.F. Olson. My cat, Bob was given Metacam after he'd fallen almost 17 feet off of our deck. Bob had an ALT of 700 (normal is around 100), yet he was prescribed this medication. Had I known about the issues surrounding Metacam I would NEVER have allowed my Vet to give it to him. I don't know if it caused him to have a hepatic cancer or not. I will never know. Bob passed away last September from a variety of complications. Today I have a “NO METACAM” warning on ALL MY CAT'S FILES.

Unknowingly, the cat guardian thought it was safe to use Meatcam on his cat because his Vet prescribed it…but Metacam is NOT DESIGNED FOR USE IN CATS. It's used “off-label” because there are no effective NSAIDs (Non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs) for cats that wouldn't also cause them more problems or kill them. I wrote about it in more detail in my original post on Metacam that you can read HERE Even back then I wrote: “If you read the insert it clearly says " Do not give in cats" and it has caused renal failure in a number of cats after just one dose.”

To make matters even MORE confusing, lately Metacam is being touted SAFE for cats who are undergoing orthopedic surgery or even a spay/neuter if injected one-time before surgery is done to prevent swelling. In fact, Bobette's surgeon gave her Metacam, which flipped me out because I didn't know it until he had already given it to her. He said it was safe if used along with an IV which would keep the kidneys flushed out. So I did some reading about it and see he was correct, but it's still comes with MANY WARNINGS: “Pets should be evaluated for pre-existing conditions and currently prescribed medications prior to treatment with METACAM. Anesthetic drugs may affect renal perfusion; approach concomitant use of anesthetics and NSAIDs cautiously. Use of parenteral fluids during surgery is recommended. Concurrent use of nephrotoxic medications should be carefully approached. Multiple injections or concurrent or follow up use with an NSAID (including METACAM) or corticosteroid should be avoided.”

This is from the Boehringer Ingelheim Vetmedica, Inc. Metacam data sheet. It states: “Death has been reported as an outcome of the adverse events listed above. Acute renal failure and death have been associated with use of meloxicam in cats.”

Should YOU have to know this information? Should you have to know about every single medication your Vet prescribes? Why can't you just leave it up to them? They're the ones who went to Vet school!

Guess again. There can be more than one way to treat a health issue. Surprisingly, diet alone can help with a number of factors. If you DON'T get involved with understanding what your cat is being prescribed, then you can find yourself in a very sad situation, as our friend was a few days ago. It's not his fault that he trusted his Vet, but there's a point at which you MUST take an ACTIVE ROLL in your cat's health. Partner with your Vet. Don't let them simply dictate to you. Yes, they have more experience and they went to college, but you can read and you can ask questions. What your Vet is telling you may be spot on, perfect, appropriate and safe-and I hope that's always the case, but for the sake of helping your cat live a long and lovely life, please…ASK QUESTIONS!…breathe!…give yourself some time to consider what is going on and take a step back if you have to. I never want to read another comment or get another email from someone who felt like they were backed into a corner and put their cat down far too soon.

Take a moment do some research, ask questions, ask your friends, see another Vet. There's a tremendous amount of information out there. Even simply going to a pharmaceutical company's web site and looking up the information they provide on their drugs may be all you have to do so save your cat's life.

It's been quite the roller coaster over the past 48 hours since I found out that Amberly had bolted out the front door of her family's home and hadn't been seen again. After her family, myself and many of you worked on getting the word out, the call I made to my friend, Katherine, ended up being the one thing that turned this story around. Katherine met with the family and searched for Amberly. Not finding anything, she left to trap another cat who needed to have his tail amputated. She picked up Leo, who we worked together to rescue last week, and got him to the shelter. [If you recall, Leo is 13 years old. His owners dumped him outside when he peed out of the pan. Then they had premie twin babies which made them decide (due to Doctor's orders!) to get rid of the cat for good!]

Leo.

Leo is better off. Once I saw him, filthy, thin, with bad teeth, I knew he was a diamond in the rough. I got him his initial vetting, then AID covered the cost to have a dental done, some blood work (which was surprisingly perfect!) and an EKG! Leo also got a bath. I can't wait to see him again. I hear he's looking just lovely now.

After Katherine got everything settled, she could have just gone home. It was about 7pm, but something was bothering her. She just HAD to go back and look for Amberly again.

The second time was the charm. She called out to Amberly and heard her meow back! Amberly had somehow got locked in some sort of weird, storage thing, which I still can't understand what it was based on Katherine's description. All I know is Amberly went in, a door got shut behind her and she was trapped. For two days she was across the street from her own home!

©2012 McGarty Family. Amberly, Jack and Mama.

Needless to say Amberly's family was thrilled to get her back. I have to admit I considered telling Katherine NOT to let Amberly return home, but to bring her to me. The family had let her get out a few times before and the area they live in is NOT safe for a cat. I was going to think it over overnight, but by the time I reached Katherine to speak with her about it, Amberly was already with her family.

This morning I got an update from the family and a few photos. Once I saw Amberly with her son, Jack, I realized she needed to stay where she was. The family said she was following everyone around, purring, eating like a champ. Clearly she was happy to be home, but I fear she will forget this happiness and try to get out again. I plan on speaking with the family about building her a “catio” or leash train her and take her for a walk. Amberly needs more stimulation, play time, cat grass. All of this can help soothe her desire to get outside.

©2012 McGarty Family. Amberly is dwarfed by her son, Jack LiLac! They're so happy to be back together.

Bobette

Bobette has healed from her surgery and Dr. Mixon believes she may always limp, but her leg is now straight when she walks, instead of curved outwards. She seems to get along very well, but after playing for a time, stops wanting to jump. I'm sure she's bored, sitting in her room, alone for most of the day now that Jakey and Teddy are adopted. I only got one application for her so far and it fell through.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Bobette has recovered from surgery, but is still waiting for her forever home.

There's a lot of pressure to find her a new home. With kitten season here and King and Miss FP waiting in the wings, I need the space. Two days ago I started to leave the foster room door open. Bobette has NOT been thrilled seeing my cats. Though her tail pouffs comically, her growling and hissing is no joke. She hasn't been violent, but she puts on a good show and my cats are giving her space. So far she just stays upstairs. Seeing her outside her room makes me laugh because she's so excited by having room to run. She stops and plays with every toy she sees even though she's nervous about running into my cats. I'm taking it slowly with her, but I hope we can let her mingle my cats so that room can be freed up for the SIX ADDITIONAL kittens I'd like to rescue! (wait 'till you see them!)

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. She loves getting petted!

Miss FP

I have a lot of guilt about Miss Fluffy Pants. She's in Maria's foster room all by herself. I need to get her out of there, but not sure where to put her. Miss FP's western blot test came back positive for FIV. The only thing we don't know is if she really has FIV or was immunized against FIV, which would show up positive as a test result. Miss FP is in good spirits and Maria tells me she is VERY affectionate. She may be ok with another cat or not, but since King has been moved out of the room, Miss FP has come out of her shell.

I've got to find an additional foster home for her in CT so we can bring her up here and start looking for her forever home. I hate that she's just waiting, but with no room at my home, I'm stuck for now.

©2012 Maria S. Miss FP. Sweeter than ever.

King

King continues to shine bright. He's hanging out with Maria's cats and is loving life. He gets to sleep on a real bed, get good food and is in a loving home. I can't wait to meet King and I hope we can move him north soon. He's already on Petfinder and I've had one or two inquiries, but so far nothing solid.

©2012 Maria S. King, relaxing on the first bed he's ever known.

I'm so glad he's off the streets. King's rescuer, Bobby Stanford, sent me some sobering photos of the palette factory where King and Miss FP were living. The folks who work there asked after the cats and Bobby gave them an update. I think if they could see how gorgeous the cats are they'd be very happy. Though they were kind enough to give the cats what they could. It wasn't ideal for them and they wouldn't have survived much longer in that location-especially King. There was no way he could get around very comfortably or safely.

©2012 Bobby Stanford. King used to sleep under these stairs.

©2012 Bobby Stanford. This was King's former home. I don't know how he walked around on his stunted back legs. To read more about King's amazing journey go HERE.

The good news is there's no need to be sad for King or MissFP. They're in good hands. From the looks of it, King is starting to get a little bit feisty with Maria's cats now that he feels safe. The video below is a hoot! Make sure you watch it to the end!

©2012 Maria S. King, also known as, Mr Mischief!

©2012 Maria S. See the video, above, to find out what happens a few seconds after this photo was taken!

April & Her Six Kittens

I forgot how much I worry about kittens! It's been a very long time since I've had kittens this young. Lately I've been fostering them after Maria does all the tough work and the kittens are old enough to be spayed/neutered. Now I get to fret every morning. Will I walk into the bathroom, where the kittens are living, and find one of them gone? Today is day 17 and I still have six kittens. They are all gaining weight. I'm still confused as to which one is which. I believe I have ALL GIRLS, but after using a 8x magnifying lens to look at their private parts, either they ARE all female or I just can't tell one sex from the other.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Poor April is exhausted.

The kittens all have their eyes open and are starting to look more like cats than hamsters. I think they can sort of see me and I've caught a few looking up at me. It melts my heart. I can't believe in another week or so they will be wobbling about even more and starting to play.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. April and the family.

I believe that three of the kittens are polydactyls; one has bizarre shaped paws! The only tuxedo kitten has very cute markings, pink & black toes and likes to squawk when I pick her up. Another kitten has big paws like a bear and always seems to be belly-up. It's about time to name the kittens. I think I may ask for help with that, but first I'm going to get photos of each one to help us with the naming. I've named their mother, April.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Tinkies! (not a typo-that's what I call kittens)

Today I noticed that April was dwarfed by her kittens. She's a small cat and with six kittens who are about 11 oz each, it's getting crowded around her belly. She's clearly exhausted and I feel both terrible and worried about her. I feed her many times a day, but some times she just doesn't eat very well for me. I've opted to leave her grain-free dry food so she has something to eat 24/7 even if I'm not a fan of kibble. I hold a plate out to her to eat because most often she's got kittens nursing on her and the poor thing won't get up to feed herself.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. What is that thing?

Clearly April is devoted to her babies because she still gives me these short little growls when she's not sure about something I'm doing. I don't worry any more that she's going to attack me. She's been nothing but friendly. Some times I rub her neck or scratch her cheeks. She purrs right away and her body relaxes for a moment. I want to take her away from the babies so she can rest, but it's not possible right now. I'm half tempted to start bottle feeding the kittens, but I don't see any of them losing weight or crying. If they are ok and she is just tired, then it will only be another week and a half and I can start weaning them off her. I just hope she can endure this stress. I'm doing everything I can think of to support her.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. We so cute!

As Day 17 for the kittens draws to a close, I got the news that our friend Janea from Paws & Effect has to make the difficult decision to put her cat Dahlia to sleep. Dahlia has atypical large t-cell lymphoma that is not responding to treatment and Dahlia has fluid building up around her heart that has to be drained every so often or she will pass away in a lot of pain. It's the most difficult choice any cat-parent has to make. We send Janea all our love and support and ask Dahlia to Fly Free to the Rainbow Bridge when it's time to go, but not a moment sooner.

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.

©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.

©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.

©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.

©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.

©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.

©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.

©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.

©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).

©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.

©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.

©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.

©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.

©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.

©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.

Today we honor love; the love we have for our partner, our family, our friends, our sweet fur-babies…perhaps not in that order of importance. Today, I honor my lost true love, a tuxedo cat named, Stanley.

While most people get a box of candy or a card for Valentine's Day, in 1998 I adopted a cat. He was seven years old, skinny and alone in the world. His sister died from FIV. His family gave up on him when they were remodeling their home-worried he would get outside and become lost, so they left him at a shelter.

©2001 Robin A.F. Olson. Me holding Stanley so his feet don't get cold. He wanted to play with the snow.

From the first moments with him, I knew he was the one, my one true love. This cat was sweet, devoted, charming, beautiful. He talked to me all the time. I never felt unloved when he was around. He met me at the door. He sat on me every chance he got. He made me laugh when I looked at the asymmetrical markings on his face. He made me cry, and I still do remembering, when he died prematurely after only five years together. Two Vets mis-diagnosed his health problem as something curable when in reality it was HCM and by the time we found out it was too late.

His name was Stanley.

©2002 Robin A.F. Olson. My sweet Stanley.

Stanley's been gone for ten years. I'm breathless realizing it's been that long and not surprised the pain of his loss is still sharp. I want him back, but I know that's not possible. I rescue hundreds of cats and look for him in their eyes. I realize it's foolish, but I keep looking.

But my tears are not completely those of a brokenhearted middle-aged woman. They are tears of hope, too. I know I can't have another Stanley, but I can have a cat who reminds me of him, who touches my heart in his own unique way.

When I first saw him, I knew he was the one, but I didn't want to admit it. He was with the wrong family, who suddenly declared having allergies and wanted him gone. Their kid, mercilessly kicking him, screaming at him and chasing him when this kitten was barely four months old. He learned to attack hands and legs to protect himself, but when I first saw him, I didn't know those things. I just knew he needed to be rescued.

From the Craigslist ad. He had me at meow.

When I reached into the cat carrier, I was struck by the silly markings on his face. He almost had a black heart shape over his right eye. He wanted to meet the staff at the vet so I let him walk around the reception desk. His bottle brush black tail was held high. At the very tip, the fur was white. I call that a “tail light.” He was clearly charming everyone who saw him, including me.

I fell even more in love with him when I found out he tested positive for Feline Leukemia; that his life would be so short made every moment seem more precious. But the ugly truth of his aggression came out shortly after he arrived in foster care and it gave me great pause.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The wild-child.

I worked with him every day for two months. I repeated the blood tests and it turned out he did not have Feline Leukemia. I allowed him to meet my cats and he beat them up, causing a fury of peeing all over my home. I had to lock him into a room at night or else he'd cause a ruckus and no one would sleep. I couldn't adopt him out as he was, so I worked with him and waited and wondered what home would be best for him. Clearly he could not live in a home with children, which would rule out most possible adopters where I live.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Hello, Cutie.

After many months, I started to realize he wasn't so tough to handle. In fact, he started to cuddle with me at night, laying belly up with his head on my pillow-something Stanley used to do, too. He'd reach out and touch my cheek but never put his claws out. This foster cat would lick and lick my face until it was raw. I didn't love it, but he was grooming me, a sign of affection (and maybe my face was dirty, too?).

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Toez!

He's nine months old and weighs thirteen pounds. He's more like a horse, than a cat. He makes me laugh when I watch him run. His butt wiggles and his feet slide out from under him when he chases after a toy. I rarely hear him meow and in fact, I don't know that he ever has. He has a huge purr box and he's much more easy-going and the other cats aren't so bothered by him any more.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Still a kitten, believe it or not.

I've been good. I've said goodbye to many foster cats over the years. I was sad and missed each and every one of them. I've been able to let them go because I found the right home for them. This one already has the right home and it's mine.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Enjoying the sun, as Stanley once did, too.

It's Valentine's Day after all. It's a good time to adopt a cat.

I've made it formal and signed the Adoption Contract. It's not a surprise to any of you, but please help me in welcoming our latest member of the family: Doodlebug, aka the DOOD.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. My boy.

Be Mine for the rest of our lives, DOOD. Be Mine.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

2016 Update: Dood weighs almost 24 pounds. He's our "class clown" and dopey BFF of our little Freya. Doodie even has his own Facebook Page  so everyone can follow his foolish lust for broccoli and his love of laying belly-up. 

Today we honor love; the love we have for our partner, our family, our friends, our sweet fur-babies…perhaps not in that order of importance. Today, I honor my lost true love, a tuxedo cat named, Stanley.

While most people get a box of candy or a card for Valentine's Day, in 1998 I adopted a cat. He was seven years old, skinny and alone in the world. His sister died from FIV. His family gave up on him when they were remolding their home-worried he would get outside and become lost, so they left him at a shelter.

©2001 Robin A.F. Olson. Me holding Stanley so his feet don't get cold. He wanted to play with the snow.

From the first moments with him, I knew he was the one, my one true love. This cat was sweet, devoted, charming, beautiful. He talked to me all the time. I never felt unloved when he was around. He met me at the door. He sat on me every chance he got. He made me laugh when I looked at the asymmetrical markings on his face. He made me cry, and I still do remembering, when he died prematurely after only five years together. Two Vets mis-diagnosed his health problem as something curable when in reality it was HCM and by the time we found out it was too late.

His name was Stanley.

©2002 Robin A.F. Olson. My sweet Stanley.

Stanley's been gone for ten years. I'm breathless realizing it's been that long and not surprised the pain of his loss is still sharp. I want him back, but I know that's not possible. I rescue hundreds of cats and look for him in their eyes. I realize it's foolish, but I keep looking.

But my tears are not completely those of a brokenhearted middle-aged woman. They are tears of hope, too. I know I can't have another Stanley, but I can have a cat who reminds me of him, who touches my heart in his own unique way.

When I first saw him, I knew he was the one, but I didn't want to admit it. He was with the wrong family, who suddenly declared having allergies and wanted him gone. Their kid, mercilessly kicking him, screaming at him and chasing him when he was barely four months old. He learned to attack hands and legs, but when I first saw him, I didn't know those things. I just knew he needed help.

From the Craigslist ad. He had me at meow.

When I reached into the cat carrier, I was struck by the silly markings on his face. He almost had a black heart shape over his right eye. He wanted to meet the staff at the vet so I let him walk around the reception desk. His bottle brush black tail was held high. At the very tip, the fur was white. I call that a “tail light.” He was clearly charming everyone who saw him, including me.

I fell even more in love with him when I found out he had Feline Leukemia; that his life would be so short made every moment seem more precious. But the ugly truth of his aggression came out shortly after he arrived in foster care and it gave me great pause.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The wild-child.

I worked wit him every day for two months. I repeated the blood tests and it turned out he did not have Feline Leukemia. I allowed him to meet my cats and he beat them up, causing a flurry of peeing all over my home. I had to lock him into a room at night or else he'd cause a ruckus and no one would sleep. I couldn't adopt him out as he was, so I worked with him and waited and wondered what home would be best for him. Clearly he could not live in a home with children, which would rule out most possible adopters where I live.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Hello, Cutie.

After many months, I started to realize he wasn't so tough to handle. In fact he started to cuddle with me at night, laying belly up with his head on my pillow-something Stanley used to do, too. He'd reach out and touch my cheek but never put his claws out. This foster cat would lick and lick my face until it was raw. I didn't love it, but he was grooming me, a sign of affection (and maybe my face was dirty, too?).

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Toez!

He's nine months old and weighs thirteen pounds. He's more like a horse, than a cat. He makes me laugh when I watch him run. His butt wiggles and his feet slide out from under him when he chases after a toy. I rarely hear him meow and in fact, I don't know that he ever has. He has a huge purr box and he's much more easy-going and the other cats aren't so bothered by him any more.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Still a kitten, believe it or not.

I've been good. I've said goodbye to many foster cats over the years. I was sad and missed each and every one of them. I've been able to let them go because I found the right home for them. This one already has the right home and it's mine.Valentine's

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Enjoying the sun, as Stanley once did, too.

It's Valentine's Day after all. It's a good time to adopt a cat.

I've made it formal and signed the Adoption Contract. It's not a surprise to any of you, but please help me in welcoming our latest member of the family: Doodlebug, aka the DOOD.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. My boy.

Be Mine for the rest of our lives, DOOD. Be Mine.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

NOTE: THERE IS NO GORE IN THIS POST, BUT THERE IS A SAD PHOTO OF THE LAST MOMENTS OF A WILD ANIMAL'S LIFE. VIEW WITH DISCRETION.

I'm like a cat. I like my little routine. I like the predictability of the day. When there are jostles and bumps, I can handle it, to a point, but this week, had I known how it was going to unveil itself, I might have skipped over to next week.

With my hand beginning to recover, though still very tender, and with new antibiotics no longer making me sick, I set to the task of focusing on helping Bobette with her recovery and to continue working with Jakey and Teddy, to help them overcome their tummy troubles, as well as keep them from going stir crazy in their small bathroom home. The days are long and there is little time for a proper meal or just plain old sitting around in front of the TV. I admit the need for a break. Last night I thought I had one.

As it often does, once I sit down, the cats act up. Maybe one starts being aggressive with another, or one is acting like he's going to pee on the floor because the litter pan isn't pristine. I'm constantly getting up, then sitting down, getting up, then down. I don't think I've ever just sat for even 15 minutes without something going on that I need to tend to and last night was no different.

I heard an odd sound. It wasn't very loud, nor did it last very long. I turned off the volume on the TV and listened. I knew something was wrong so once again, I got up.

Blitzen and the DOOD were in my office, frantically trying to get behind a file cabinet and a printer stand. There was something else in the room, but that sound was not the sound of a mouse. It was bigger. I started to tick off in my mind what it could be and the options were not very appealing. It could have been, God forbid, a rat? A squirrel? A raccoon? opossum? What the HELL was in my house?

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

There's very little room in my office to walk around. It's a small room to begin with and I have it full of bookshelves and storage for a zillion years of graphic design project files and reference books. It's not a pig sty but it's not meant for more than me and a few cats to hang out in. Trying to get to a wild animal in this room was going to mean things getting broken and or possibly someone getting hurt.

Sam got the big flashlight out and was trying to see what was going on. I stood by the doorway with a Maglite, shining it under the furniture. While the cats were going crazy, I saw something move. It was BIG. This was no mouse or rat. I yelled to Sam as the thing made a move for it. Somehow it got across the room over to my bookshelves. Sam could have grabbed it, but was unable to, allowing the creature to get into the space between the wall and the bookcase. Sam directed his flashlight into the space. The creature was halfway up the back of the bookcase. It was a flying squirrel.

How the HELL were we going to get that thing out of the house in one piece? There was no moving furniture, that was for sure. We couldn't open the window because it's a big window that opens left to right. The screen would be about four feet square, at least and even if we could get it out, there was no room to back up to get it out of the way…AND I live in the woods. You open the window to let something out, odds are you will get something back IN while you're at it.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson.

It was already pushing 10pm. What were our options? We didn't have a small humane trap. We couldn't just leave the door open and wait for the cats to scare it out at 3am. Sam went to look for something and I grabbed the maglite-which weighs a few pounds. I don't know why, but it slipped out of my hand onto my big toe. The pain was so severe that I almost passed out. I started SCREAMING and CRYING, desperately trying to leave my body it hurt so bad. I thought the cat bite was painful-this was nothing in comparison.

And Sam…just stood there while I writhed in agony on the floor. I was in so much pain I couldn't talk. My mind was abuzz. I was trying to think…what to do? How to stop this PAIN!! Why isn't Sam doing ANYTHING?! Do I have to tell him? What if I was having a heart attack? Would he stand there and look at me, too?

Now I was really pissed on top of being in agony. I shouted at him to get me some ice. The pain kept coming in violent waves that made me shiver. I tried to bend my toe. I could bend it a bit, but it was too much..too much..and now I'm thinking about the damn flying squirrel in my office. The cats were going to get it or some crazy shit was going to happen any second now. I had to stop hurting so I could get back to the problem at hand, but the pain was just getting worse.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Waiting for tickets to a concert or just hoping to get into my office?

Sam got some ice, but was very awkward about the whole thing. I guess not everyone is good at being in charge when someone else is in pain. Me, I just get things done, take charge, help out. I don't wait to be told what to do if it's an emergency. Here I am rocking back and forth, trying to calm down, while he says barely a word. I really felt like I was on my own. Great. Just what I needed.

I asked him to turn on a light so I could see my foot. It didn't look as bad as I thought, but it was already swollen and discolored. I guess I will loose that toenail one of these days. I bent my toe, it was painful but I could bend it. The ice made it hurt worse, but I had to do it so I sat there for 20 minutes while the tears dried on my face, and iced the injury. Meanwhile, the cats were lurking around, hoping the flying squirrel would come down and play with them.

After the “incident” I was “done” for the night. I didn't care who ate what at that point. I was going to bed to nurse my wounds. I suggested to Sam to put a cat carrier in my office with some peanut butter on a plate inside it. To shut my office door so the cats could not get in it and we'd deal with it in the morning.

I slept for a few hours, then woke when Sam came to bed at after 1AM. I couldn't get back to sleep. My toe was throbbing painfully. I finally got up and took a fist full of aspirin. After a few hours I fell asleep again, only to wake up in pain when the alarm went off at 7:30.

But what of the flying squirrel?

He was not in the cat carrier and hadn't touched the food. Sam found him behind my printer stand where I keep my battery backup and surge protectors. A cat bed had slipped behind the printer stand, onto the floor. The little flying squirrel was sleeping on the bed. He moved a bit, but seemed to be sleeping. The cats were forming a line outside my office. They all wanted to “help” get the flying squirrel, but I was not going to let that happen.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Nicky about to get his fluids for the first time.

I called Wildlife in Crisis and they told me that flying squirrels are easy to trap. To put out black oil sunflower seed and some walnuts. Oddly enough I had both of those things, so all I needed was a trap. We had to leave to bring Nicky to see Dr. Larry. Nicky has renal disease. I'm not sure how severe it is, but the fact that we have to learn how to give Sub Q fluids means he's lost a lot of kidney function. While we were out we were going to find a trap. I made some calls and thankfully, my buddy Carolee, who is the Animal Control Officer of Newtown, said I could borrow one of hers.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Hang in there little guy.

I got back home, dropped Nicky off, then got ready to head out to get the trap. I didn't go into my office for fear of spooking the flying squirrel out into the rest of the house. I stopped over at the Dog Pound and had a nice visit with Carolee and Matt. They had some small traps that were ancient. One had a newspaper lining the bottom. I joked it looked like it was from the 1800's.

I felt hopeful that we'd get the flying squirrel out by tonight. I figured I would set the trap, shut the door to my office with me inside it so I could do some work, then later tonight the little guy would get trapped and I could let him go outside. Maybe he was still sleeping on the cat bed, the irony not being lost on me as I limped into my office after setting the trap. I put the trap down, then leaned over the printer stand, but the flying squirrel was gone! I started to look around the room in dread. Where did he go? Was he going to jump out at me or worse? Was he dead behind the bookcase?

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Fly free.

Just as I was about to leave, I saw him. He was right out in the middle of the room. He wasn't moving. I called out to Sam and Sam put on gloves and got a container. He got the flying squirrel but he captured it too easily. It was barely moving.

We watched it for awhile and ended up moving it into a cat carrier. I couldn't see it breathing, but Sam thought he saw it move. It's eyes were open, but in them I saw that all too familiar emptiness that told me we didn't have much time left. At first we thought we'd give him some time to rest, but then it seemed he had passed away. We brought him outside, as we do with all the creatures who die in the house and offered him to the other animals to help sustain them. We always put them on the lap of the Buddha statue in our yard, in the hopes it will somehow be a respectful place to let them rest. I don't know why I felt I needed to take a photo. I felt so terrible about the whole thing. As I pressed the button to take the photo, the little squirrel MOVED. I thought I was losing my mind, but Sam saw it, too. We picked him back up and I called WIC again. They told me to come over, so with throbbing toe and aching hand, I drove the dying flying squirrel to their Center, all along feeling I was doing a Fool's errand…but I owed it to the squirrel to try.

I was met by a Vet as I pulled up the driveway. I told him I thought it was too late. He held the little flying squirrel in his hands, examining him carefully and agreed that he had passed away. He told me that with cat bites, the little guys only have about 12 hours before the bacteria in their mouths causes so much damage that they can't turn it around after that. I never even saw a mark on the flying squirrel, but I knew that's must have been what happened. I thought about the bite on my hand and wondered if there was any way I could have helped the little guy sooner. I had the medicine in my house that would have saved him-but what dosage? How would I give it to him? I couldn't help but feel the bitter sting of being too late to save his life.

I'm definitely “done” for the day. I've written my post, now I'm going to go hide under the covers-hopefully alone. I'm going to ignore the fact that the DOOD did not come down to eat his dinner. I'm worried maybe he bit the squirrel and what did the squirrel give him in return? Is he sick again? At what point do I just tell everyone to fend for themselves and hope I can deal with it later.

And I didn't even tell you about the kitty whose back paws are gone…either crushed or cut off, who we're trying to put a rescue together for…but I will soon. I will. For now…

...Fly free little flying squirrel. Rest in Peace.

Our dear “Bob's Pumpkin Patch” family is growing up. No longer are the boys squirmy and plump orange gourds. Their mama, Bobette, no longer needs to care for them with the intensity she once had. It's been ten weeks since we rescued them from Henry Co. Care & Control, a Kill shelter in McDonough, GA.

©2011 Maria. S. They baby boyz!

Our little family of four, was once a family of seven. The spirits of the three kittens who passed away still linger in the shadows, watching their brothers thrive, as their own lives were so unfairly cut short. Their foster mom, Maria, still pines for those babies, but it is a testament to her love for them that the others did survive.

©2011 Maria. S. Growing like weeds.

Jakey, Teddy and Mikey are doing well. Today, along with their mama, they're off to the Vet to be spayed or neutered and get their first vaccinations. The boys were born in a cage at a shelter where horrific upper respiratory infections thrive. That these boys did not break with that illness is a small miracle. At each sign of a sniffle, we gave them homeopathic remedies, which stunned us in their effectiveness. We'll always be on the watch for that dreaded URI to appear, but at least at eleven weeks of age, these kittens have the chance to build up their immune systems-unlike our Polly, Chester and Cara who were sick for many months after we pulled them out of the same shelter.

©2011 Maria. S. Our little Pumpkin Patch family.

Bobette has not fared as well. Barely a year old, Bobette has had a very difficult life. Not wanted by her family, dumped at a kill shelter, pregnant; hopes were slim that Bobette would survive. At the shelter she refused to eat, while her six newborns struggled to get proper nutrition—and most likely the reason why three of the newborns did not survive.

©2011 Maria. S. What's out there?

When I heard about Bobette not eating for four days, I grew very concerned. I was fortunate that Maria was willing to take in another family after only having a short break on fostering. We busted Bobette and family out of the Kill shelter and rushed her to the Vet. She was given a thorough exam, but Bobette sat crouched in a corner, frightened of what was going on. It was easy to miss that Bobette's secret pain.

©2011 Maria. S. Teddy & Jakey.

The family settled in Maria's bathroom. It was small, easy to keep warm and safe from Maria's cats getting too nosy with the newcomers. Bobette spent most of the day feeding her boys. She didn't walk much, nor did she have the room to run around. It didn't trouble her at all. It was time to focus on her offspring and not worry about herself, but what we didn't know was that Bobette wasn't all right.

©2011 Maria. S.

Bobette ate like a champ. The boys did well under her care. It seemed that after her loss, Bobette paid even more attention to the remaining kittens. She cleaned them and fed them and kept them safe. It didn't matter to her that something was wrong. She had her babies to care for.

©2011 Maria S. Teddy's Cat Nap.

©2011 Maria. S. Mama and Jakey.

Maria recently moved the family into a bigger room, with plenty of sunshine, windows and toys, it's an ideal location for a growing family. The cats could finally RUN, stretch their legs, jump!

©2011 Maria S. Pumpkin Patch Boys Go Wild!

...and that's when Maria realized something was wrong with Bobette. She was limping. Her left rear leg had a hitch to it as she walked. Maria called me and I told her to get Bobette to the Vet. I hate waiting, wondering what was going on. Maria called a few hours later. Bobette seemed sensitive in her back. Perhaps it was an old injury, but the Vet couldn't find anything obviously wrong. He suggested to give it more time. I asked if he ran an X-ray and Maria said he didn't feel it was necessary.

©2011 Maria. S. Triple threat of cute.

Yesterday, I wrote about Warren and his wife, Terri and how they ignored their Vet's suggestion to wait on having their kitten re-examined when they realized their foster kitten, Dexter wasn't getting better. Maria followed the same line of thinking; she kept looking at Bobette as she walked. Something was wrong. It wasn't something that was OK. Maria called me again and this time we both agreed that no matter what, Bobette must be x-rayed. We did not want her to be in any pain.

Once x-rayed it was clear that something WAS WRONG, Bobette has a rare condition called a Patellar luxation. Basically, Bobette's kneecap is out of position. This is caused by a genetic malformation or trauma. It's a rare condition in cats, but common in small dogs. It wasn't completely clear to Maria or myself, but one of the bones in Bobette's rear leg fused with another or fused improperly. Bobette's left rear leg is shorter than the right, hence Bobette's limp.

Bobette doesn't appear to be in pain and I'm guessing that due to the bone fusion, she had a trauma to her leg. The fact that once she was dumped at the Kill shelter she stopped eating, was perhaps due to the trauma, not to the stress of being confined.

The Vet says to do nothing. Bobette can get around and that returning the kneecap to a normal position may not help, as the kneecap can slip back out of position. Because there is more going on than just the kneecap problem, I've decided we need to look into this matter further. Bobette is barely a year old. I don't want her to face a lifetime of pain or discomfort. Like Warren and Terri, this doesn't sit right with me. We need to do more for Bobette.

©2011 Maria. S. Bobette gives her son a kiss.

First, we need to get Bobette to Connecticut. I'm setting that up to be in two weeks. The transport costs $300.00 for the family. I'd like to take Bobette to our Vet, first, then to an orthopedic Vet for a second opinion. If they all agree it's not worth doing surgery, that's fine, but if Bobette can live a better life if she has corrective surgery then we'll do a fundraiser for her.

What I need to ask for now, is for help with expenses to get them to CT and to pay for some additional Vet care for Bobette after she arrives. During this time of giving thanks, I hope you'll consider a donation to our efforts. Bobette has been through so much in her short life, let's help her get on the road to a long happy rest-of-her-life.

The donation you provide to Bobette and family is TAX-DEDUCTIBLE. The money will go to my Non-Profit Cat Rescue: Kitten Associates.

If you'd prefer to send a check, please make it out to: Kitten Associates and mail it to:

Kitten Associates
P.O. Box 354
Newtown, CT 06470-0354

Thank you for helping Bobette and her family. All our best to you and your family on this Holiday week!

Happy Thanksgiving!

I've been an avid fan of Apple products since my first computer in 1991. As a Graphic Designer, it just made sense to use their products, but along the way, I fell in love. I attended many MacWorld Expos in the mid to late 1990's. Attending Steve Jobs Keynote session was always one of the hot tickets to get and luckily, since some of my clients were software developers, I always got in to see the presentation.

I remember going to MacWorld Boston in 1997. Apple was in the dumps. Many of us feared that we would lose our beloved computers. It was the year they changed the Apple logo from the rainbow colored stripes to the all white version we see today. We were seated in an old Church. There were big screens lit up with the new image. When I saw it, I thought all the joy left the company-this new white logo was a signal to the end. Then, to make it worse, Steve graciously introduced BILL GATES via satellite, to talk to us about how Microsoft was going to BAIL OUT APPLE. We all BOOED. Steve handled it well and told us it was a good thing. We didn't want to believe it, but at that point we'd let even the Devil himself save Apple.

I don't have to tell you what happened next, but it was a rocky road for many years. Some left and gave up on Apple, but those of us in the design community were never going to go to PC's.

In 2000, I attended MacWorld NYC. It was a smaller show, nothing compared to the Moscone Center in San Francsico. That MacWorld was enormous-spanning two convention centers, it took a day just to get through one side of the show. It was the mid-1990's and I was lucky enough to attend many after-show parties, hobknob with celebrities and dance the night away. It was an AMAZING time filled with computer-nerdy-geeky friends, many of which I'm still close to today.

A fun fact about my past-I was a Chat Hostess on America Online. My group was called “the Secret SIG” (SIG=Special Interest Group). We met online in a chat room on AOL every Sunday night at midnight for five years. I never missed a chat. I stopped being known as Robin and was called by my screen name; Kitty. We talked about technology, art and design. I had special guests from WIRED Magazine, Apple, Adobe, NBC, Macromedia...and we were feverish about what was going to happen next and it was a great venue to talk about it. We were riding the wave of the latest and greatest technical innovations and some of us were even the brains behind creating that wave. Steve Jobs was a part of most of our discussions and dreams of the future.

Seeing Steve Jobs on stage was like seeing a rock star perform. Steve had a perfect sense of timing. We may have had an idea of what he might be sharing with us, but he always had a few surprises up his sleeve. We'd all sit there fussing in our seats, ready to jump to our feet, as we often did when he'd demo something really cool. He was the perfect pitch-man, but he loved what he did and his passion was contagious. I always felt high as a kite after one of his sessions. I'm very grateful to have had those experiences and been able to share that with my friends.

They say we lost a visionary and that's true, but Steve Jobs knew the power of building a team of top notch talent and knew how to get them to get the job done-whatever it takes. That devotion to a leader doesn't come easily or to just anyone. While I'm brokenhearted Mr Jobs is gone, I'm grateful he has an amazing team left to carry on.

Things will never be the same without Steve Jobs. Our lives are better for him being out there, making magic come to life. He will be greatly missed. Now Steve can smile down on us from iHeaven.

So what do little orange kittens have to do with Steve Jobs? Well, I couldn't write this blog without my studly quad-core Mac or edit the video of the kittens without iMovie. Even the mouse I use, was because of Steve's genius. I take photos with my iPhone and sort out details of a cat rescue via text messages. It's so much more than that. I couldn't connect to all of you without his achievements being part of the tools I use.

To soften the great sadness I feel, here are the latest updates on Bob's Pumpkin Patch. Bobette and the kittens are doing great. We've had many worries that they were going to get sick. It could still happen, but so far, so good. No sign of URI, knock wood!

Kittens are fat, wobbly and wonderful.

I admit I'm jealous of Maria. She gets to enjoy watching them grow, learn and explore their world. Looking at their endearing faces-knowing that opening her home to foster them, saved their lives.

As the world mourns, somewhere out there is the next Steve Jobs. We may not know of him or her for many years to come, but that person is out there. In the meantime, life goes on. Let's make the most of it.