The Squee Diaries. Chapter 2.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Named, at last, here is our mama, Minnie.

The kittens are 10 days old today. Hurrah! Every day they live is another milestone because at this tender age kittens can fall ill and quickly die. It's common that 30-40% of kittens in a litter will pass away depending on the stresses in the environment and the condition and ability of the mother to provide for her offspring. So far, so good for this family.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Who has the cutest little rear end in the world?

There's an internal war I'm struggling with between feeling great anxiety about the mother's overall condition, which is very poor, and bliss in witnessing her tender devotion to her kittens. I nicknamed the mama, Skinny Minnie, because she's rail-thin. She weighs a little over 7 lbs, but she should weigh about 10 lbs, at least. I can feel her vertebrae when I pet her. It's sharp, without any cushion of flesh. When she sits, her hips stick out, almost at an impossible angle. It hurts me to see her like this when I know she's struggling to keep her kittens alive-at any cost to herself.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Chaos at the lunch line.

What is more worrisome is that starved or not, Minnie isn't eating well. The first day she gobbled her food, then it seemed that nothing would interest her. Was it the fact she was getting good food, more than her digestion could handle? It was certainly a possibility. Add to that she was in a new environment-was she safe? Were her kittens safe? Stress might keep her from eating and so could the fact that we did treat her with Revoution®, which can add to tummy troubles, too.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Minnie is so painfully thin. Come on mama-EAT!

 

I didn't know what was ailing Minnie so I pulled out every tempting treat I could think of and used every trick in the book to get her to eat. She'd lick a little bit of food here and there off my finger or take a few bites of food. I syringe fed her some probiotics, hoping they would calm her stomach. I could hear it gurgling. I checked with a Vet and got the okay to give her sub q (under the skin) fluids. We gave her what is considered a small amount of fluids, just 50 mL. We gave it to her a second time the next day, too.

 

Minnie also relived herself of two gigantic bowel movements. Normally this isn't something to consider, but since she came off the streets, it was important to both get her stool tested for parasites (which surprisingly came up clean this time-we'll recheck in a month) and to make sure she COULD pass stool properly (and use the litter pan!).

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Confetti Joe is named after my daddy, Joe, who passed away 14 years ago this month.

I even offered Minnie what I loathe to feed any cat-dry food. I opted for the highest quality grain-free kibble I could find. Over the following days she nibbled at it a bit, but only seemed to like eating one brand of canned cat food and one flavor of it. Sadly it's a tough food to find locally so I've put in a rush order for more.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Yukon Stan is named after Stanley Pertwee Kokopelli, who died 10 years ago this month.

I've started to weigh Minnie when I weigh the kittens. Tracking her weight is just as vital as that of her offspring. If something should happen to Minnie, it would put the kittens at great risk of dying. They're still completely dependent on her and I'm not the best bottle feeder in the world.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Jellybean Mel is named after my sister's dog, Mel who passed away the day before the kittens were born.

I'm also torn between taking Minnie to the Vet where we might be able to run some tests on her, but it would also STRESS her and the kittens AND put the kittens into an environment where they could possibly get sick being exposed to the other animals in the practice. My gut says to hang tight. As long as Minnie's eating something and not dehydrated, maybe she'll push through this and I can bring her in for a checkup in a few weeks once the kittens are stable.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Precious Pete is named after Super-Deb's cat, Pete Puma who passed away a few years ago.

I keep asking myself, what would the Vet do that I can't? Yes, they can run a blood test, but even if they find infection they can't give her antibiotics because she's nursing. Minnie is alert, bright-eyed, seems comfortable. She grooms herself and is the BEST mama. Though I'd love to see her devour her food and eat a lot of it, she's eating something.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson (main) ©The Tiniest Tiger (inset). Lil' Gracey is named after Joanne McGonagle (her middle name is Lil) and her beloved cat, Gracey, who just died three weeks ago. You may know Gracey for being the spokescat for The Tiniest Tiger.

 

I have to remind myself to hang tight. Keep everyone warm, dry, comfy, fed. That's all that has to be done. Now if Minnie would comply and EAT, we'd be all set.

 

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Pete and his plush pal.

As with every rescue we do, we need to raise some funds to provide for their care while in our foster program. You don't have to donate a lot, even a few dollars can add up to make a difference. Each kitten will need their vaccinations, their spay or neuter surgery, toys, kitten formula and litter. Minnie may need some blood work done if she doesn't get her appetite back.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. I wuv my brudder. Joe and Pete enjoy a snuggle.

 

To help Minnie and her family, simply click the "GIVE NOW" button and you'll be directed to our You Caring page. If you'd prefer to send a check, you can make it out to: Kitten Associates and mail it to: Kitten Associates, P.O. Box 354, Newtown, CT 06470-0354

 

 

Thank you for helping this precious family and for sharing this post to your cat-loving friends!

 

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Gracey fills her belly while brother, Stanley snoozes away the day.

The Squee Diaries Chapter 1. We are born.

Things have been pretty awful around here the past few months. Between the lingering pall of grief after the shooting at our elementary school, the long, almost never-ending winter coupled with the harrowing road we traveled with kitten-Fred, only to end in tragedy—the deaths of our family pets, Mel and Oliver, just adds up to an overly long season of “the blues.”

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. We try to move on, but the sadness lingers.

Usually I’d try to snap myself out of it, but perhaps now that I’m middle-aged, I’m to a point where I just accept it and try to find a way to continue moving forward. I’ve been reluctant to foster any new cats, even though we’re in the throes of “kitten season.” It’s just been too much heartbreak and frankly, I haven’t had a break from fostering for almost four years. I promised Maria, our super foster mom, a break and I hoped that I’d be able to take one myself. Just having Bongo, George, Bunny, Barney and Mabel here is enough, added to my own eight cats.

But, I’m haunted by a longing—a deep-seated need to be around kittens; even though I’m not sure my heart can take any more pain. Perhaps it’s because I haven’t even been around a kitten for almost a year that I feel this pull inside my heart. I’m not sure what drives my desire. I only know it’s there and with every email plea for help or every call about a cat in need, I ask myself; “Is this the one I should be helping?” Then I come up with a reason to say no.

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©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. My dear Fred. I miss you so much.

I need to work and make a living. I need to focus on getting some Kitten Associates housekeeping done. I’d like to feel like I’m caught up or could catch up on what I need to do, but I’m constantly distracted by seeing photos of foster kittens on Facebook!

People often ask me how I can foster kittens when it’s so tough to let them go when it’s time for them to be adopted. I ask in return, how can you NOT foster kittens? How can you say no to one of the sweetest, most blissful experiences you can have in this world? Once you start fostering, it’s very tough to stop.

Watching kittens take their first wobbly steps or pounce awkwardly onto a toy would soften the toughest of hearts. Kittens allow me to be a mother, something I never had the chance to be to a human, but something I have a biological need to do.

I wrestle with the heartache I feel over losing Fred and with adoptions way down, I’m also a bit scared to take on any more foster cats, too.

But yesterday, I experienced a knowing, a gut-tugging feeling that directed me to open my heart and take another chance. When my friend Katherine called me about a mama-cat who just had a litter of kittens on a sidewalk in a tough part of Bridgeport, CT, I knew right away that this was what I needed to do. These were the cats I’d been waiting for for so long.

I asked her if she could tell me what they looked like and she replied; “The mama is orange and maybe white, and so sugary sweet. I think the kittens are all..well..don’t get upset but they are orange and white, just like Fred.”

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©2013 Katherine Reid. My first look at our new family. Mama with 5 kittens born on June 1, 2013.

Tears welled up in my eyes and somehow I choked out the words; “Yes, I’ll take them.” This was my new family and the start of six new stories. I know I can’t replace Fred, but this feels like Fred gets a second chance somehow and I need to do this—for Fred and for my heart.

I’m leaving to pick up this family in a few minutes. Later today you can visit our brand NEW webcam, which I’m calling SqueeTV. Just visit this link to see live, streaming video of our newest rescues and stay tuned as we name each one and begin the process of helping them grow, thrive and become wonderful adoptable kittens.

A Very Good Dog, Indeed

The last time I felt like I had a family was in the late 1990's. My parents were alive, I had a career, our pets were thriving, relationships were intact. Clichè as it may be, I didn't realize what I had until it was gone, though it didn't disappear overnight or all at once. My family began to vanish with one loss, then another. With every change I scrambled to find a way to feel like I still had a family with whatever remained.

A Little Love Goes a Long Way for Chloe

Chloe’s been living with foster mom, Angi for six weeks. The fact that she’s in the same home is in and of itself a wonderful thing. With her aggression issues, Chloe could easily have been sent back to Animals in Distress and possibly been deemed unadoptable, leaving her to possibly face a grim future. Her former "guardian" had called around to the local Vets asking for a house call to euthanize the cat. Thankfully, though they are not bound by law to do so, all the Vets he contacted would not do a “convenience-euthansia,” especially for a cat they had never seen before. How did they know the cat wasn't aggressive due to an underlying illness? I was dismayed to learn that my own Vet said there are some Vets who will do anything for a buck. Sadly, cats are still considered personal property, which means that said property can be disposed of at the owner's discretion. Luckily for Chloe she has a few Guardian Angels looking out for her, especially her foster mom, Angi who has stuck by Chloe through thick (and we’re working on thin).

Since this is Angi’s story, then some of the words should be her own. Here are some excerpts from emails discussing Chloe’s ever-improving progress. We last left off with Chloe starting her life at Angi’s house and Angi having to protect herself from Chloe’s attacks as she entered the room. Angi had to have a cardboard shield in front of her just to get near Chloe. She could have become fearful and given up, but Angi kept at it, slowly gaining Chloe’s trust. After two weeks, I got this email:

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©2013 Angi Shearstone. Chloe, relaxed and enjoying her toys.

April 21

“Chloe let me pet her, brush her, and play with her a bit with her catnip carrot. She purred throughout nearly the entire exchange, rolled around playfully, even, and I think I have identified her "pay attention to me" meyow over the "I'm gonna get you!" war-cry yowl.

She's still a bit nippy, I utilized the catnip carrot & brush a lot to give my fingers a little distance, but she's not as determined with the nipping as she was when she took that chunk out of my foot!”

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April 25

“Baby gate is going well. Rudie's popped in to be a minor nuisance a few times, but only minor. Some hissing, but everyone's keeping their distance. I have to pick up Chloe's food to prevent the oranges [note from Robin: two of Angi’s cats are called “the oranges”] from scarfing everything up (they're sort of garbage disposals!).

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©2013 Angi Shearstone. Rudie checking out Chloe's room. Should he jump the baby gate or not?

Chloe meowed around mid-morning, and I decided to try something. I put the baby gate in the hallway, and closed off the other bedroom. If she got up to the gate, she'd just about be able to see me working at the desk but not able to come in, and would have access to about half the hallway, and the bathroom. She roamed the bathroom a bit, and then there was a bit of hissing with Rudie and she retreated back into the guest room. Figuring it might be just a bit too much too soon, I put the baby gate back in that doorway.”

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May 6

“I'm actually starting to suspect she'll love anyone that plays with her a few times a day, as well as offers scritches. I really do think that being able to interact via some cat toys was key to her getting her "frustrations" out. Really, I think she was starved for quality interaction for a long time.

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©2013 Angi Shearstone. Bring on the skritches.

I've been opening up the "baby gate" area to include the hallway and my office, but she's not really taking me up on it that much, not after the initial interest. The other day she wandered out, spent a little time in the office with me (I put a pillow out for her, but she left after spending a few minutes hissing at Smudge (who was up in the cat-basket at desk-top level) and retreated to her room - I've been trying to put some of "her stuff" in the hallway to help her explorations, but it hasn't helped so much so far.”

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The next morning

“hah! I wrote this this morning & didn't send it immediately because I got distracted, and Chloe just wandered into the office while I was talking on the phone! She's on a cushion behind me! Rosie is in the basket, and they're both minding their own business.…”

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©2013 Angi Shearstone. A happy kitty thanks to foster mom-Angi.

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May 14

“Chloe is doing even more amazingly awesomely. So much so that I'm not taking so many pics & video anymore because it's losing the "OMG!" factor.

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©2013 Angi Shearstone. While working, Angi looks down and sees Chloe, reaching up to get her attention!

I've opened up her room during the day and while I'm awake & around, she has the run of the house. She's stayed upstairs except for the one time she chased Rudie halfway down the stairs (I'm sorry, but it's crazy how fast she can move when she wants to), and will sometimes follow me around the house, if I leave the office to go make lunch or something. I can even "call her" and she'll come. I've got some low-laying cushions on the floor in my office, and she'll hang out while I work, just like the other cats (who tend to stay up high, on my desk, shelves, etc…). She's found some peace with Rudie & Rosie, which is good, but also not so good, as she no longer chases Rudie away from her food when he goes into her room (really, she scared the bejesus out of him on a few occasions early on, even leaping off the bed to chase him out of the room!). I'm tapering off leaving food out for her because of that.”

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©2013 Angi Shearstone. Completely vulnerable with her belly up, Chloe lays on the sofa and watches TV with Angi. Is this love?

“…Chloe's even come up on the couch while I watch TV, or gone up there while I'm working in the office. The Oranges will keep some distance if I'm watching TV, but will sit on the back of the couch or on the other side of me. Even the nibbles are fading, and are even more "affectionate" than ever, and not mean. I can pick her up (slowly and supportively, as she's still so big!), pet her without worrying about my approach. She even lets me pet her kinda "roughly," I really don't feel like I have to be careful around her at all.”

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May 25

“… the landmarks are getting smaller now that she's so much more normalized, but I thought this was worth mentioning:

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©2013 Angi Shearstone. She's just a cat, doing regular cat things. That this happened is far from regular.

Today, very briefly, I caught Chloe playing by herself. She was in the office with me while I was drawing. There's a cushion I have on the floor that she likes, I keep it near my computer chair. There was one of those furry mousies half underneath it. She pawed at it to get it out from under the cushion, and then played with it for a bit. It was only for maybe 30 seconds, and she stopped by the time I got to the camera. But still. A sign of a much happier cat.”

Looking Back

When I met Chloe back in March I couldn’t even touch her. She was ready to attack me with whatever she had, claws or no claws. If I hadn’t seen her behave normally and confidently before she went into defense mode, I would have been hard pressed to even consider giving her a chance. In that glimmer of sweetness, I saw hope and we had to try to help her. I’m so very glad I stepped in to assess Chloe because if her former “owner” had his way, Chloe would have been dead by now. Instead, Chloe is finding out what it’s like to live a life without abuse or neglect, a life that has richness, love and companionship.

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©2013 Angi Shearstone. Friends at last. Way to go Angi & Chloe!

 

Chloe was willing to give us a chance, too, even if perhaps we didn’t show well when we first met her. It just goes to prove that with patience and a lot of work, every cat can blossom in time.

 

Go Team Chloe!

[swf file="sites/coveredincathair.com/files/May_lovey_dovey.MOV"] If you'd like to catch up on Chloe's story from the beginning you can check out these posts:

1. http://coveredincathair.com/content/we-owe-it-chloe

2. http://coveredincathair.com/content/what-we-live-chloe-update

3. http://coveredincathair.com/content/baby-steps-chloe

4. http://coveredincathair.com/content/chloes-big-adventure

All photos and email-quotes Used with Permission.

Crazy Cat Ladies No More

Crazy Cat Ladies. In many circles that expression is not meant kindly. It connotates instability, excess (too many cats, obsessively talking about cats), wearing sweatshirts with cutesy embroidered artwork of kittens chasing after balls of yarn. We're probably fat. We're far from “cool.” We have no relationship as meaningful as the one we have with our cats. We're probably not married, maybe never even had a boyfriend.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. The cat ladies dinner. Between everyone at the table we had or cared for (we counted ferals) 85 cats!

Not any more.

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Tamar from IHaveCat and Angie from CatLadyLand and moi.

Today I'm retiring the phrase: Crazy Cat Lady. It's been dying slow death and it's time to strike it from the dictionary and replace it with something appropriate.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Ever-smiling Angie with kitten.

Last week I attended BlogPaws 2013, a conference for pet bloggers. I'll be doing a write up about my trip, my 90-minute session about our Kitties for Kids program and may even dish a bit of dirt, but today my focus is on the real reason why I go to these conferences-it's to spend time with my friends, who happen to write about cats and who love and protect them with the same passion I do.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Our dear friend, Kate from Hauspanther couldn't make it to BlogPaws so we got together and created the Cat Lounge for her.

When I was a kid I had a younger brother. We didn't get along very well, nor do we, today, which is why I used “had” referring to him. Our family moved around a lot and I was constantly uprooted and lonely. Making new friends was tough and it seemed that just as I made a friend, we'd move away and I would never see them again.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Deb from Zee & Zoey sharing a flirty smile (and wearing cat-ear tiaras!)

My Mother never had women friends. She had some interesting male friends, ones whom I'm not sure what their real relationship to my Mother really was. There was the Chief of Police, one of the officers in the Fire Department and another guy who worked doing construction who was like an uncle to me. I never had a role model for how to be friends with women. Women were always creatures you could not trust and who you were in competition with for the cute guys.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. JaneA of Paws & Effect with Sir Disco

My “best” friend in high school went behind my back and stole my boyfriend away from me (he returned a few weeks later claiming she smelled like wet cardboard..and I later dumped him). She claimed I should “move on because David loved her now”…some friend.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Tamar, Angie and Debbie from Glogirly

I wrote off being close to women. I just didn't know how to do it…

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Elegant Coco-and yes, she's dressed up. Coco has no problem wearing an oufit or prancing around. She's VERY well cared for, stable and loved. This little cornish rex has one of the biggest personalities I've ever met. Coco has style (and so does her mom, Teri!)

…until I started to do cat rescue and write my blog.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Ingrid of the Conscious Cat with a kitten.

What would happen if you met someone who shared your interests? You'd have a good reason to be friendly, at least. But what happened if you hardly even knew this person, but it didn't matter because for some unspoken reason, they felt you were worth the effort to get to know, warts and all and you felt the same way about them.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Ingrid, the birthday girl, with Bernadette of The Creative Cat and ANGIE!

There's something magical about the cat ladies. Most of us compete for the same awards. Most of us compete for the same “eyeballs” on our blog or friends on Facebook. While there can be blips of mildly hissy behavior, all in all, those issues aren't issues. We have our own angle, our own stories. We can support each other without losing our readership. We can even be dismayed (to say the least) when a newcomer hits the scene and starts winning “our” awards. Our revenge—we reluctantly make an effort to make friends with her then find out she's too nice for us to hate and instead of shunning her, we adore her (you know who your are, Debbie G.!).

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Janniss of Sparkle the Designer Cat and Tamar get photographed by ANGIE at the welcome banquet at BlogPaws 2013

Where else do people retract their claws and extend a hand in friendship? Getting together with my ladies feels close to a sacred gathering where I'm accepted and accepting. Where even if I lose out on an award, I can still find a smile and hug for the winner, who is also a friend of mine. We're in this together. We're trying to raise awareness about cat wellness, behavior problems, nutrition. We make you laugh about your cat. And some (yours truly) make you cry about cats. Whatever we do, it's done with a deep and abiding love and devotion to our cats, not in an obsessive way, not in an unhealthy way, in a rational, clever, compassionate way.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. It's not a party until someone gets a tattoo. Here's Ingrid flashing her calf while big boy Disco photobombs the shot.

Felina Domina means “Cat Lady” in latin. It rolls elegantly off the tongue. It gives us an air of class and refinement-that we deserve. Sure, we wear cat ear headbands or tiny tiaras, but that's only because we celebrate who we are, without apology. We cherish the bond we have with our cats and we love to share that joy with other like-minded women AND MEN.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Teri of Curlz & Swirls with her girl, Coco.

Many of the Genus: Species: Feline Domina ARE married or are in long-term relationships. Most of us are in good shape mentally and physically. Many of us have friendly relationships with lots of people. We hold down jobs. We help others live better lives with their cats.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Teri and her boy, Disco Noferno. I LOVE THIS CAT. He's completely hilarious.

Feline Domina is about friendship and support. Holding your friend's hand when times get tough or helping your friend laugh after there have been too many tears. Realizing we are in this together, whatever “this” may be. We're glued together by our love for cats and we take great joy in that fact.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Winners of the Nose-to-Nose Awards: Karen of Mousebreath with ANGIE! and Debbie

I honor my ladies with this post. Your friendship means the world to me and without it I am a sad, lonely person. I love each of you and take great delight in your successes and I share your sad days, too. There are few things better than the comfort of sisterhood and I will never take it for granted.

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©2013 Debbie Glovatsky. JaneA and me. This is what sisterhood is all about.

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©2013 Debbie Glovatsky. My dear, Ingrid.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. My hotel room full of cat ladies!

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©2013 Debbie Glovatsky. Happy Birthday to Ingrid from all her cat lady pals.

The Other Side

The past month has been one of the worst of my life. Although I’ve witnessed the slow decline and eventual passing of my own senior cats, and all the fear and sadness that brings, I’ve never watched it happen to a mere kitten. It is so much worse because there’s the added tragedy of the full, long life that never got to be lived. The family I imagined coming to adopt him, never came to the door. The joy he’d have being loved and cherished for a lifetime, was taken away by a fatal disease.

Yesterday afternoon, Fred made his journey over the Rainbow Bridge.

The past month, I’ve had to face Fred’s decline, despite so many efforts to revive him, find an answer, at least keep him stable for a while longer. I’ve had to watch him as he lost use of his back legs. He could still get around after we made changes to his living space to make it easier on him to still have some freedom.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Barney often tried to get Fred to play, which I discouraged. Eventually, Barney realized his brother couldn't play with him any longer.

He became incontinent. Not surprisingly because he couldn’t get to the litter pan. We just made more adjustments and bought a lot of “wee-wee” pads. The goal was to keep him comfortable, hoping we’d get enough time for the test results to come back or to start another treatment.

I set up the web cam so I could watch him when I wasn’t in the room, but felt sick to my stomach every time I looked in on him. Seeing him struggling broke my heart. There was a time I saw him slip and fall off the pet stairs onto the floor. I raced up to the room to help him back up. He seemed so confused about how such things could happen to a once agile creature. I kissed him and told him to hang on that I would find a way to make it better.

I realized I was running out of things to hope for last week. I realized how ridiculous it was to find myself hoping Fred had lymphoma, instead of FIP. Both were fatal, but at least with lymphoma Fred could live longer, maybe over a year. It was crazy to hope that, at least, Fred wouldn’t lose use of his front legs, too, but eventually he did. He could sit up, but other than that, he didn’t move around. Sam and I took turns changing his position or location in the room. I’d place him on a bed in the sunshine and he’d groom himself, perked up by the joy of being in his favorite place.

Fred hadn’t eaten anything on his own over the past week, not even his favorite chicken treat. Sam and I fed him three times a day via a syringe. He struggled at first, but as the days passed, he just took his food without a fuss. Sam would hold him against his chest, shielded by a pad because Fred would often urinate when we held him up to feed him. We’d cheer him on when he peed because that meant his body was still functioning normally. A few times we even got him to poop, which caused us to be even happier. He still had some strength. It wasn’t time. We still had a chance.

I would focus on coming up with the tastiest, most nutritious, combinations I could put into the blender to make Fred enjoy his food. He would take a taste, then smack his mouth with his tongue. He’d look up at Sam with this silly, sweet expression and Sam would look down so lovingly at this little cat. I’d syringe a tiny bit more food into him and he’d swallow some and dribble some onto his fur. Between syringes of food, I’d carefully wipe Fred’s face with a paper towel I’d wetted with very warm water. I wanted to recreate the feeling of his mama washing his face. He seemed to like it and often purred.

When we finished feeding, there were the many medications, eye drops, bad things. I washed Fred again and we’d put him on a soft bed. We’d take turns brushing him, again, anything to help him feel clean and comfortable. Some times Barney would come over and lick Fred’s face, ears, or paws. Fred almost smiled at Barney’s attempts to connect with his brother.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Fred (front) and Barney (by the pillows).

I found I couldn’t focus on work or eat much. My only respite was sleep and I couldn’t get to sleep unless I was exhausted. I’d get a few hours, only to wake up as the first glow of sun peeked over the horizon. My gut would go back to its familiar ache. Should I look at the web cam? Is Fred still alive? Did he pass away over night?

Eventually I’d work up the courage to look and I’d see him in his bed, so very still. I’d race into the room to find him still with us. I hate to say that some times I wished maybe he’d have left us over night and it would just be over and done. I kept reminding myself that the other side of this means how I live my life without Fred, knowing he is gone. The sheer Hell of watching him fade away would be over, but a new Hell-one of grief and remorse would take its place.

Time was quickly running out for Fred. Tests kept coming in negative for lymphoma so for certain it was FIP. Fred’s condition got much worse on Tuesday night. We had to hold his head up to get him fed. He was much weaker. I’ve never seen a cat, while still alive, who was so very limp-everywhere. Fred couldn’t lift his head or lick his paw. He could flick his tail ever so slightly-and that’s how I knew it was time to change his wee wee pad, but that was it. After we fed Fred, got him cleaned up and on a fresh blanket, we left the room. I broke down in tears and said to Sam that it was time. He agreed. We were taking turns changing Fred’s position every hour and making sure he wasn’t urinating on himself. I was to call Dr Larry in the morning to make the appointment for that day. We couldn’t wait any more. Now my last hope was that we could end Fred’s life in a peaceful way and without pain or fear.

Sam and I discussed what we would do, how it would be done. I made a promise to Fred-no more Vet runs and that the Vet would come to us. Sick to my stomach, I made the call. Dr. Larry was out sick that day. My only option was to bring Fred to them and have Dr. Mary put Fred down. Sam and I discussed it and felt we could keep Fred going on more day, so we made the appointment for yesterday afternoon.

When you know your cat is going to die and you know when, you can’t focus on anything else going on in your life. Any other issues fall to the wayside. The irony is that through this past month, Sam and I have been working on refinancing our mortgage so we can stay in our home. I’ve been so sidetracked I ignored all the calls and paperwork. I even put off the Closing last week so we could watch over Fred. We managed to get everything taken care of and in the end it saved us a lot of money. We should have been happy since it’s been a constant worry for us for a long time, but we were both like zombies, signing papers, nodding yes or no to any questions our Lawyer had, hoping we’d just get it over with. We got the job done and raced home to be with Fred because we knew we had less than 24 hours to be with him.

The last twelve hours were spent with Fred. He was not left alone, even for a second. Around 10pm on Wednesday, we put or pajamas on and set ourselves up in the foster room with Fred and Barney. Fred was either on a cozy cat bed between us or on Sam's chest. We each were petting him or holding his little paws. They were starting to feel cooler and I wanted him to feel the warmth of my hand. We didn’t say much.

Trying to lighten the mood a little I blurted out, “tell me a story.” and Sam began reciting bits of Dr. Seuss books he read to his daughter 30 years ago. “Look what we found in the park, in the dark! We will take him home, we will call him Clark. He will live at our house; he will grow and grow! Will our mother like this? We don't know.”

I thought Clark would be a good name for the next cat we rescue, then I caught myself. The next cat? Would there be one after this?

We tried to include Barney or play a little bit with him. He was somewhat curious about what was going on, but eventually settled down on a blanket near Fred, too. We formed a circle of loving kindness around Fred. His breathing was slower. He reacted to less and less. I started to hope that Fred would hang on because I didn’t know how the FIP would kill him. Would he suffocate and struggle? Would his heart just give out? I just wanted this one thing since I couldn’t have anything else. I couldn’t have Fred rebound or recover. At least he could die without pain.

Sam slept with Fred that last night. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t see him in such terrible condition for hours on end. I still got up at 4am and again at 7am to check on Fred and to clean him up because he was urinating on himself. Every time Fred peed we still cheered him on. “Good boy! Okay, let’s get you cleaned up. Oops! Here’s some more! Get another pad. Okay, good boy, Freddie!”

But this was it, the morning of the end. I did all the chores getting our other cats feed, watered, boxes cleaned out, so Sam could stay with Fred. I was so busted up that seeing him was killing me, too. I had to go back and face him because time was running out. We got the room cleaned up and got ourselves washed and dressed. Fred was very frail now. We both sat on either side of him, petting him, talking to him. Telling him we loved him. He was barely conscious. It was devastating.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Sam holding Fred before we start feeding time. You can see how limp he is in Sam's arms.

It was a gray day. I was hoping for some last rays of sun for Fred, but it rained. Around 12:30pm, the clouds opened up and it started to pour. I saw Dr. Larry’s car come down the driveway and my heart sank. This was it. It was time. I got up to answer the door, but my legs felt weak. Dr. Larry and super-Deb said hello as they entered the house. My mouth opened to reply, but no words came out.

We went upstairs to the room where Sam was waiting with Fred. Dr. Larry was quiet, then sighed and looked at Fred. He and Deb got to work. I had to sign a form saying Fred hadn’t bitten anyone in 15 days and that I was giving my consent to have him euthanized. Dr. Larry talked about how tough cats are and that he could see Fred living a few more days even though he was barely alive. He said that Fred’s body condition looked really good because we’d been constantly feeding and cleaning him, but that, too, it was clear it was time for Fred to be helped to pass away.

I asked if Dr. Larry could take a look at Barney first. I was worried that Barney could get sick, too, because I’d heard that FIP can hit siblings since they have the same DNA. He and Deb examined Barney and felt he was okay, but we would keep a close eye on him going forward. He suggested we thoroughly scrub down the room and get rid of the cat trees and bedding, just to be safe. We couldn’t risk having an unhealthy environment since I still have three adult foster cats in my bathroom who would benefit being in a bigger space. Although I knew it meant more fundraising to replace all the cat furniture, I agreed it made sense.

There wasn’t anything else I could do to put off what was to come next. It was time to let Fred go. Dr. Larry explained that we had to be calm because Fred’s veins were compromised by the steroids and that the needle might blow out a vein and that we had to not get upset. Sam was still sitting on the bed next to Fred so he lifted the cat bed with Fred on it into his lap. I gave Fred a few kisses and moved aside to hold his front paw while Dr. Larry slipped the first needle into his vein. Dr. Larry fussed over the placement, but the vein held. Fred didn’t even react to the sting of the needle. Fred was already so far gone that when he passed, none of us even saw him go.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Fred's last night. Sam held him for hours.

Dr. Larry listened to his chest and there were no more signs of life. He said, “okay, it’s done.” as I burst into racking sobs. Some how I had enough strength to remember one last thing as I cried. I had cut sections of green and white ribbons, which are the colors that are associated with the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting. I tried to tie a bow around Fred’s neck, but my fingers didn’t work. It took five tries but I finally got it done. Fred was our Mascot for Kitties for Kids. He made so many kids happy. Super Deb remarked, now all the children who were killed will know Fred when he arrives in Heaven and I agreed.

I kissed Fred a few more times and told him I was sorry and how much I loved him. Deb carried him out in her arms. He was still on his comfy cat bed. She said she didn’t want us to see her put him in the black plastic bag and I agreed I didn’t want to see that either.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Fly free, sweet Fred. We will love you and miss you, always.

I closed the door and came close to fainting. I was crying so hard I couldn’t stand. I willed myself to go back to the foster room, which had so often been a place of joy, to find Sam on the bed, weeping.

I sat on the bed, in the same place I’d spent the better part of the last day, but now we were on the other side of this journey, the side where the questions are answered and where the real pain begins.

A loud rumble of thunder traveled through the house. I said to Sam; “that was Fred. He’s on his way to be with the children and they’re celebrating his arrival.” He looked at me through tear-filled eyes and nodded “yes.”

Dear Fred.

Dear Fred,

You’re in the foster room on the floor above my office catching the last few rays of sunshine as you rest in the little cubby on the cat tree. I imagine your respirations, too fast for normal, a bit shallow. Your tail lays limply, instead of flicking back and forth. You’ve been sick with something for months and it’s robbed you of the use of your back legs and now your front are gone, too. We’ve done so many tests on you, with most of them coming up negative or normal, only to find a hint of the horror you may be facing is FIP after all. Feline Infectious Peritonitis—a fatal disease.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Fred catching the last rays of sunshine.

I’ve never fought so hard to save a cat’s life. I’ve never reached out to so many Veterinarians, Specialists, anyone who might be able to help you. I’ve never worked so hard to raise money to make sure we have whatever we need, so we can provide for you—no matter what the cost.

I’ve been anxiously waiting for each result, praying it wasn’t FIP. There were MANY tests that said there was NO WAY it could be what we feared most, but one did point a bloody finger…a very high protein level in your spinal fluid…and that may be the only clue we ever get from science. The rest of the clues are witnessed in your weakening physical condition.

You’re just a baby, Fred. You’re only 10 months old. I know we lost your siblings, Pebbles and Bam-Bam a few days after they were born, but I never thought you or your brother, Barney were at risk, too. Please tell me if I did something wrong-or made you get sick! Did I cause you too much stress? Did one of the other foster cats in your room expose you to something that they were immune to? I didn’t think I waited too long to get you to the Vet, but maybe we were too slow to do tests, fearing the costs? I feel like I’ve let you down, Fred and I hate myself for that. I will never forgive myself for your death and I know you’re going to die. I'm so VERY SORRY, Fred. I know it won’t be much longer now.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Our Fred.

The treatment we hoped would work has done nothing other than make you gag when I give it to you. The steroids don’t make you hungry or feel any better. I keep thinking that I can’t give up on you. I just can’t, but now I see you barely able to sit up and I think, why am I doing this to you? Is it fair to let you be this way? You’re still “Fred,” in so many ways, but now I’m faced with the worst thing I will ever deal with and that is choosing when to end your life.

It’s so against what I have devoted my life to-saving lives, not taking them. I know that if you were in a shelter, they would have put you down a long time ago. I know if you were still living in that terrible place where we rescued your mom, you’d have died a long time ago there, too. You can’t expect to live in filth with little or no food and no vet care and survive very long. I know that you’ve probably lived with me longer than you would have lived anywhere else-even if you’d been adopted because I doubt anyone would not go to work so they could stay home and syringe-feed a kitten or spend thousands of dollars in Vet care for a possibly hopeless situation, so maybe that’s the meaning of this journey?

You didn’t get adopted months ago, when you had an adopter come see you because you were supposed to stay with me. I just don’t want to know what my lesson is in all of this because if it’s that cat rescue means euthanizing cats, I honestly don’t know if I am capable of doing that.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Barney fussing over his brother, trying to get him to play again.

I love watching kittens take their first steps and be part of introducing them to the world, but if it means I have to take the life of a precious kitten before he even has the chance to see his first birthday, I just don’t know if I have what it takes.

Dear Fred-I love you so much. You were so charming and carefree. You amazed me at how high you could jump and how much you loved to chase those feather toys. I’ve known you since the day you were born and I’ve looked out for you all these months.

I know I can’t fix what’s wrong with you. I can syringe-feed you, try to keep you clean and dry, since you can’t make it to the litter pan any more. I can brush you and speak sweetly, encourage you to be strong, while I try to be as gentle with you as I can.

I have one last offering for you, sweet Fred. Today you’re getting adopted. Sam and I are adopting you into our family. The contract is signed. You belong to us. Our goal is to find a forever home for every one of our foster cats, even if forever is only going to last another day. I can’t cure your FIP, but I can give you a loving home until your last breath leaves your body.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson.

I will never forget you, Fred. I know that one day we will do something very special in your honor because of the big impact you made on all of our lives. I hope your journey to the Rainbow Bridge is as beautiful as I can make it and that one day I will see you again.

Love always,
Robin (and your daddy, Sam, too)

You are Love.

I watch you sleep, curled up against the chill of the evening air. Your eyes closed, a serene smile plays upon your mouth. Your chest rises and falls in a peaceful rhythm. For you, with a full belly and a soft place to lie, all is good in the world.

You stretch out a dainty paw with jellybean toes painted pink and black. The colors dance across your feet in a playful pattern that makes me want to giggle. I want to stick my index finger between those little nibblets and tickle you, but I don’t want to disturb your rest.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Spencer.

A gentle breeze caresses your ear. You flick it back and forth, trying to shake off the curious feeling. You rise slightly and your emerald eyes lazily open. Realizing it’s nothing to be alarmed of, your body softens, exhaling deeply you return to your dreams.

I know I shouldn’t do it, but I reach out to pet you. At first it reawakens you, but within moments you relax under my touch. Your fur sends shivers up my fingers, it’s so soft and silky. I can barely feel the ripples of your ribs and spine as I run my hand down your back. You turn over exposing your belly to me. I can’t resist tracing a few fingers between your front legs for a moment, knowing full well I might lose my hand if I pet you there much longer.

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©2013 Robin A.F. Olson. Blitzen and the DOOD without a care in the world.

I watch you sleep, exposed, vulnerable, but safe. It makes me profoundly happy to know I can provide this haven for you and in return you fill the dark places in my heart with sunshine. I marvel at my good luck in this perfect, golden moment.

In you, my little cat, I find peace and my true self. I find a pure, simple love that just is, that nourishes me; that I cannot live without.

You are my cat.

You are love.

Here Comes da Judge-the 2013 Internet Cat Video Festival!

I've been keeping some really exciting news under wraps. It would have been good enough to tell you that the Walker Art Center's (WAC) Internet Cat Video Festival is coming back bigger and better to the Minnesota State Fairgrounds, August 28, 2013 at 7pm and that the crowds are expected to top 13,000 cat lovers from around the globe, but..there's more!

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I'm thrilled to announce that I will be one of the Juror's of this year's show!

I'm deeply honored to be part of WAC's group of cat-centric writers, entertainers and cat behaviorists who will be reviewing thousands of videos, with one goal-to tease out top contenders in nine different CATegories. Winning entries get the coveted Golden Kitty (statuette, not a real cat!).

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ENTER YOUR FAVORITE VIDEO NOW!

Did you create an awesome award-winning-worthy cat video or did you see one you just can't stop watching? There's still a TEENIE BIT OF TIME LEFT to NOMINATE YOUR FAVORITE VIDEOS! The deadline is MAY 1st!

To enter your favorite videos fill out the Internet Cat Video Festival Nomination Form.

UPDATE: THE DEADLINE HAS BEEN EXTENDED TO JUNE 1, 2013!

Get Tickets for the Internet Cat Film Festival 2013

Tickets are only $10.00 and are selling fast so don’t miss out. Rumor has it there are going to be some VERY AWESOME CELEBU-CAT GUESTS!

Purchase tickets online at mnstatefair.org or via this LINK

Order by phone at 800.514.3849

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If you can't come to the Festival, you can still get a COOL t-shirt (Spencer not included!). ORDER HERE.

You can get more details or sign up to let them know you'll be attending the event via the Internet Cat Video Festival's Facebook page. To find out what other cool things WAC has up their sleeve pop over to their Facebook page. (hint: one of them is specially designed MINI-GOLF COURSE!)

Let me know if you'll be attending the Internet Cat Video Festival and we'll have a special Covered in Cat Hair club gathering! You can email me at info@coveredincathair.com

See you in August in St. Paul, Minnesota!

Freedom for the Iredell County Cats

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I just heard from Lisa, our friend at SPCA of Wake County in Raleigh, NC. She gave me an update on the 9 cats (an additional 3 cats went to another rescue) they rescued from Iredell Animals Services last week. If you recall, these cats were subjected to being caged for 2 YEARS due to an animal cruelty investigation and subsequent court case. Once the cats were free to go, they still faced being euthanized because many have minor health issues and some are senior-aged.

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©2013 SPCA Wake County. Tabitha enjoying life out of a cage.

SPCA Wake County didn't balk at taking on these cats. They didn't pick out the prettiest ones or easiest to adopt-they TOOK THEM ALL and my hat is off to them for their good deed.

From Lisa's email, this is what we have learned:

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©2013 SPCA Wake County. Brian, still a bit scared, but slowly coming out of his shell.

“Benson, Brian, Cougar and Tabitha are the first ones available for adoption. You can see their photos and listings at www.spcawake.org/adopt by clicking on the "view cats available for adoption" icon and scrolling through the alphabetical list. Attached is a photo of Tabitha and Cougar lounging in one of our communal cat rooms.

Leroy, Max and Jethro all turned out to be intact. They will be neutered tomorrow and available for adoption starting on Friday.

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©2013 SPCA Wake County. Cougar, tail up, happy again!

Tori had a cyst on her chin and we're waiting for lab results before we put her up for adoption.

Red Boy is a real trooper. Of his ten front claws, seven of them were grown into his paw pads. Ouch! It was quite extreme to say the least. He had surgery yesterday and after one more week of cage rest and an e-collar he should be cleared for adoption.

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©2013 SPCA Wake County. Tabitha (back) and Cougra (front) relax in their comfortable new shelter. All they need is to be adopted!

All nine cats have done just fine with us so far and I'm so glad we've been able to help them by giving them a high-volume adoption center to call home until the right people come along.”

These cats have waited a long time. Our last act should be to make sure they all find good homes. If you'd like to adopt any of these kitties, please call or visit SPCA of Wake County.

LOCATION:

200 Petfinder Lane

Raleigh, NC 27603

(919) 772-2326

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