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?

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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.

Submitted by AnnaBanana74

And they didn't even need eHarmony.

Bob needed to be groomed and Deb the Uber Vet Tech, (aka.,Aunt Debbie) was up for the task. As Bob rested comfortably on the pet scale, we noticed his weight is back up. He's now at 16 pounds! Woof!

Dr. Larry came in and did a check up and looks like Bob's finally over the worst of having upper respiratory problems. Yay! I was also concerned about Bob's vision and his overall creakiness getting around the house.

Bob's eyes are just fine and to keep his joints feeling more comfortable, we'll start him on Dasuquin and see how he does.

It's been a remarkable journey-the past two and a half years. Bob came to my home in very bad shape. He'd never been properly vetted his entire life and only fed grain filled food. He tested positive for FIV, had 6 teeth removed and his blood tests showed diabetes and a bad liver. We discovered he had a serious pancreatitis flare up, possibly due to also having heamobartonella and that put Bob into the hospital for weeks on end. I thought he'd never make it to 2009.

Bob's a geriatric kitty. I know I won't have him forever, but I can say he is now diabetes free, the bartonella is gone, his liver is much improved, he has been seen PLAYING and RUNNING around the house (even for a creaky old man). His appetite is great and now that Aunt Debbie brushed him out, he looks stylin' to boot.

It was worth every dime, every tear from stress, every sleepless night from worry. This is one fantastic cat.

Like so many cat lovers, I have done (and continue to do) a fair share of fostering. Most of the time, it's a wonderful experience: watching your itty-bitties grow into full-fledged kittens, seeing their markings come out over the weeks, getting the first purr that isn't food-related...the list goes on and on.

Then, the day you've been thinking about without really thinking about comes. The day they go up for adoption. There have been times I've avoided this day by adopting the fosters myself. It's especially hard to give up your first bottle babies (Heidi and Alice) or the abandoned adult you rescued from a foreclosed home(Trooper). After fostering close to 30 cats and kittens over the past two years, even I realize it's not possible to make them all permanent members of the family.

moar funny pictures

Bob (left) came to live here 2 1/2 years ago, after my Mother died. He's made the transition from being the only cat, to one of seven. I'm so thrilled that the adjustment went well-better than expected by far.

Bob and Nora (right), are like soul mates. He seeks her out when he doesn't feel well or needs a snuggle. She seems to be completely at ease with his presence.

Either that or I'm completely blind to the reality that Bob was trying to shove Nora out of the cat bed and she simply refused to budge. This is a war of Will, not a sign of peace and harmony.

Makes for a cute photo, regardless.

With the New Year comes some changes around CiCH.

I'm delighted to let you know that we've begun implementing a brand new, beefier structure that will allow us all to utilize the site more easily.
This secret, magic stuff is all "under the hood" sort of changes. Along with improvements to the site's functionallity, we'll also be launching an improved site design.

I'm very excited because in time we'll be able to have a LIVE Chat, where we can share our stories, find help or just get to know each other. There'll be easier access to my Book Excerpts, Foster Cat Diary, RSS Feeds (which will be much improved) and the ability to: email your friends any of the articles you read and you'll have a "for print" version of articles, as well.

This should make everything much nicer throughout the land...

...cough

Ok, it'll be a bit nicer here, at least.

Down the road, we're planning to open a Covered in Cat Hair Store, chock full of silly cat related goodies that you'll only be able to find here!

Make sure you bookmark this site or apply for a free account—that way you won't miss a thing!

Cheers and Happy New Year!