Funny

I have to admit I didn't feel very hopeful about Bobette's future. In fact I had a lot of doubt that she'd end up being able to keep her leg. Although the sutures are gone, there are no more antibiotics to take, and her fur has started to grow back; she walks with a pronounced limp.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Ho-hum. Bobette doesn't know I'm about to put her in a cat carrier. Hee hee!

I finally got brave enough to touch Bobette's leg. I carefully ran my fingers along the velvety surface where I thought her kneecap should be and I felt a small, sharp object under the skin. I flashed back to the surgery, watching Dr. Mixon digging into her leg. He used some sort of uber-nail-clippers to clip back some of Bobette's bones and I think he said he was making her a new knee cap. Was this what I was feeling, under the surface? Considering her limp, it made sense.

I began to doubt my judgement and curse myself for not spending the $2500.00 to have Bobette's surgery done by an Orthopedic surgeon. What was I thinking trying to save money and hope I could get away with it. Dr. Mixon is a General Practitioner, not a specialist.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Watch this lady zip around and…oops…rip into my HAND! Hilarity ensues…

Today I brought Bobette in for her re-check. Dr. Mixon asked me how she was doing and I glumly replied; “Well, not so good, her kneecap popped out and she is limping a lot.” Bobette was nervous and I had her under a towel as I updated the Vet. Dr. Mixon uncovered Bobette and looked at her leg, then a curious look crossed his face.

He had me hold her on her side so he could manipulate her leg. I told him about the thing I felt when I checked her leg and he shook his head.

“It's not her kneecap, it's the PIN I put into her leg to hold things in place. Her knee is just fine. In fact it's exactly where it should be.”

Dr. Mixon showed me how Bobette's leg is straight. It flexes normally, instead of being crooked. The knee is in place. As he admired the result, he added; “I'm a better surgeon than I thought!”

I just stood there in awe.

Bobette has function she's probably never had or only had for a short time in her life. She has to learn that she can bear weight on her leg and she needs more time to gain strength in the muscles. All in all, we couldn't have had a better result!

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Pondering her future.

Dr. Mixon removed the few remaining staples from her incision and I made an appointment for a month from now to have the pin removed from her leg. Until then the game plan is to get her moving more and playing. I'll be taking down the big dog crate that was once her home, throwing away the e-collar she wore for what seemed like an eternity, and getting a few new toys for her to chase.

The next thing we have to work on is to find out why Bobette doesn't seem to like her boys or any other cats, for that matter. After all this-to find out she has to be an only cat, is going to make her adoption very difficult, indeed.

For those of you craving a “DOOD” fix, here's our boy pondering the meaning of a glass window and why he can see me, but can't get through it to reach me. This video is Rated: G for Goofy

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. A still from the movie: How Much is that Dood in the Window?

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Enjoy!

And no, I'm not going to mention it's Super Bowl Sunday.

Gracie was one of my first foster cats and one of my first foster “fails.” She's been with me for 9 years. I knew she came from an abusive background so she's always been timid-yet she loves affection! I've worked with her, tried homeopathy with some success, and though she is still apt to dash off if you come too close, she'll also be the first to jump on the bed and try to get some lovin'-time when she knows you can't grab her and take her to the Vet.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Gracie enjoying some sunshine.

Last night she actually sat on me and wanted to be petted. I decided to record it for posterity since it's such a rare occurrence. Of course, once again, I forgot to think about what I was saying. The audio on this video really makes me laugh! Hope you'll get a kick out of it, too!

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Goodnight, Gracie!

As the three to five inches of snowfall turns into more like ten, let's take a break from stories about sick cats or cats who need a rescue and just have a laugh. I certainly could use one.

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

The cats aren't allowed in the Pantry. I guess the DOOD forgot the rule and decided he wanted to get into the shipping container where I stashed my last box of Raspberry Whippets.

You realize he thinks I can't see him, right? Oh yeah, the DOOD is feeling better, isn't he? Yes, he is!

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. The Cookie Thief, aka, the DOOD.

Next up, I share a few moments with Spencer, Blitzen, Justin and the DOOD as they investigate their new cat tree (which was just donated to us!)

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. SBlitzen and Justin/Snowball.

©2012 Robin A.F. Olson. Spencer, Blitzen and the DOOD.

Other than the fact that we're trapped in the house, things are looking up. Bobette is more energetic than ever and it's only two more days until her bandages come OFF. I can't WAIT (and hopefully I'll be able to get out of the driveway by then).

Part One of Two.

It seems as though regardless of when I chose to rescue a cat, when it goes into foster care, what day it's transported or when I pick it up, that everything comes together at the same time, even if the rescues happened weeks apart! It's very tough to figure out when to rescue more cats, with the hope that the foster cats you currently have will be long gone by the time the new fosters arrive.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Goodbye Sweet Truffles! You're such a sweetie pie!

After almost three months of foster care here, Amberly's remaining two kittens, Blaze and Truffles were adopted together! They went with a divorced dad and his three kids. What a GREAT family! I really liked them a lot. Dad is into feeding the kitties a raw diet, so I was extra thrilled! The kids were terrific-sweet, nice, cute. I knew they'd all have fun together, but I didn't know if the girls would even be getting adopted until Friday at 5pm when I knew full well that on Saturday at 9am a transport was arriving with Bob's Pumpkin Patch on board! Talk about cutting it CLOSE! If Truffles and Blaze didn't get adopted, I'd be in BIG TROUBLE! I'd have no room for the new arrivals! What would I do?

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Blazey, you left a big pawprint on my heart, even if you DO have the loudest MEOW ever!

I really lucked out. Blaze and Truffles showed well. Being alone in the room for two weeks helped them blossom. Once the kids started to play with them the kittens forgot to be shy and began ripping around the room, clearly enjoying all the attention. Dad looked on, impressed.

Their new family brought their old dog crate. It was enormous and barely fit up the staircase. I gave each of the girls a kiss, realizing this was “it,” time for another good bye. My heart felt very heavy, but it was mixed with great relief. I only had a few hours to clean up the room. I was already thinking about what I needed to do to get it ready for Bobette and crew. In a way, it made the pain of closing this chapter a lot easier. Another story was about to begin and I needed to get ready. I'd have to cry later.

For the record, Amberly's family was one of my favorites. I loved their story, their crazy coloring, their stunning copper eyes, their big, loving hearts. I'm jealous of their adopters. Each one of these kittens and their mama were superb. Seeing them every day was a great joy and I will always have a place in my heart that belongs to them.

Just before this post went live, I got a note from their adopter. He wrote: “I just wanted to let you know that Blaze and Truffles are doing great...we are all enjoying their company...they are 2 of the sweetest kittens I've ever met. Both are very affectionate but have no problem showing their true colors when they want to play or are letting you know that they are hungry...the poster of Blaze's face must have been taken when she was hungry...she's hilarious. They are acclimating to all areas of the house.”

And all this came to pass because Maria went to a tag sale early one summer morning and found a skinny cat laying in the road in desperate need of help. It's been quite the amazing journey.

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

The Angel Babies are here!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Loaded up and headed for Connecticut.

Sure, I adopted out two kittens, but I'd already taken on the four Angel Babies; Vash, Jazz, Justin and Princess. It's been so hectic around here that I didn't even get to let you all know how that's been going.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Jazz (now named, Blizzard).

Sam and I drove to Pennsylvania to meet up with Izzy and her husband, Mark. They rescued six white orphaned kittens when they were just a few days old. I have to hand it to this couple. Somehow they managed to bottle feed six kittens without any of them dying. Amazing! You can read more about their background before the came to my home, HERE.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Princess de Winter relaxes on her new cat tree.

Of the six kittens, two were spoken for, so I agreed to take the remaining four; three are boys and one is a girl. They all have a smudge of gray on their heads. One has a big swash, one has two smaller ones, one has three and the girl has hardly a gray hair. Can I tell them apart after a week? NO!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Justin (now named Snowball) is quite the love bug.

What I can tell about them is the bottle feeding helped them become VERY affectionate and easy to handle. These cats will reach up to me to be held, jump on my back or shoulders, call to me to pick them up. They like to be held like a baby. They love to play. If you ever watched Star Trek: The Next Generation, they're like the BORG. They seem to have one brain and four bodies. The react the same way, at the same time, when I call them to eat or jiggle a toy at them. It's as though their thoughts are controlled by a Mothership somewhere circling overhead.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Bizzard is watching for a chance to jump on me.

It's very easy to love these cats. They're simply adorable. I'm shocked to no end that they don't have 20 or 30 adoption applications each, but I barely have any for them and it's been a few weeks since they've been on Petfinder.

I did a test and decided to change their names to something snowy/wintery to see if that would help get the interest up. So far no change, but it's only been a few days. Of course, I couldn't tell the cats apart before and with the name change, so I might as well confuse myself even further. I'm toying with the idea of dying them different colors (hee hee) or perhaps it would be wiser and I'd get fewer nasty comments if I just put a collar on two of them? I need to print out a cheat sheet to hang in their room. I've never had this problem before!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Stretch Princess!

I have a lot of guilt about these kittens. My only place for them is my guest bathroom. The laundry room is attached to the bathroom and I can open the door and give them a very little bit of extra room. The problem is that they can get behind the washer and dryer and next thing I know, they've unhooked the dryer hose from the vent in the wall. This is a problem and very annoying to have to fix.

I did my best to block off their access to that area, but the little turds can get back there no matter what I did. Sam had to re-hook up the dryer. Lucky for me he wasn't too chapped about having to do it and it was a good excuse to attach the new clamp for the dryer hose. It should hold more tightly and be less easy for the cats to disconnect-famous last words.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. The DOOD's old cat tree is really coming in handy!

Again, I thought I blocked their access to the dark space behind the washer and dryer. I left the room so they could run around. I was in my bedroom putting laundry away. I heard a funny sound. I heard it again. I heard a small cry. Oh great. I knew what it was.

I went back into the laundry room. I counted heads. One, two, three...three...where is four? I looked between the washer and dryer. There was a big metal divider from a dog crate folded into the space. I pushed it back towards the far wall, thinking the cats could not get behind it. There, hanging by his paws on the divider was Snowball. I looked at him. He looked at me and meowed. I gave him a dirty look, bent down and lifted him up by his shoulders and whispered into his ears; “You dumbass.”

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Um, excuse me?

He didn't seem to mind my name-calling. I put him down and tried yet again to block off the area. If I couldn't manage it, I'd have to keep them in the bathroom, but at six months of age, these are far from tiny kittens and they need room to stretch out. I hated myself for not having a bigger space for them. I really wanted to just let them out, into the rest of the house, but I knew it would start World War III with the rest of my cats.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Blizzard and Princess.

I kept trying and failing, but at least the dryer hose stayed attached. Every time I opened the door to their space, a new pile of stuff they'd gotten into was all over the floor. I store some of the extra towels and bedding I use for foster cats on a high shelf. They would climb onto the shelf and pull everything off it onto the floor. After a while I just gave up. They have a nest on the floor made up of an old comforter and a few throw rugs and it's far from their litter pan. I mention this because one morning I went into their room and somehow they'd taken a towel from the floor and threw it into their litter pan. One of them had explosive diarrhea in the pan, but somehow it was tossed about 3 feet up the wall and all over the wall! Another cat had vomited while up on the countertop. The pile landed on the floor and they all must have run through it, then all over the room!

And no, I did not harm any kitten in any way, though I did re-think what I was doing fostering these nut-jobs!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. They look so innocent...ha ha ha ha ha!

If they weren't so darn CUTE and lovey-dovey, it would have been a lot harder to scrub the walls down at 7:30AM or not be tweaked to realized the bits of paper on the floor were actually cardboard that once belonged to the top of the box the baby scale is stored in. I could see tiny tooth impressions all over the box. One of them must have sat on the box and just gone to town, chomping and chewing the edges of the box. Really, just how bored are these guys?

Tonight I dropped way too much money on an automatic laser pointer thing. You turn it on and it wiggles a laster painter beam all over the place for about 15 minutes, then it shuts off. At least if I couldn't spend hours with the kittens, it would be something I could do for them a few times a day between feeding visits and lovey-dovey visits.

More than anything, I'd like to see these cats get adopted, even if secretly (okay not so secretly now) I would love it if they stayed here (but don't I always say that?). They're so marvelous I know anyone who meets them would love them right away. Wednesday I'm taking them to a photo studio to meet Chris from Greengirlz and to star in a photo shoot! I thought our Holiday Card should have something to do with having a White Christmas, but after what I've seen these cats do, I just wonder how wise it is to take them somewhere with a backdrop they can climb and props they can chew. I'm glad Chris is a Professional Pet Photographer. Yeah, that's what I was thinking, too. They're cats. Professional or not, cats are going to be cats. Good luck with wrangling them, Chris! I'm going to just stand back and watch you work!

I wonder if we should just be happy if we can get a photo of them after they're exhausted from ripping apart the studio? Gee, I sure wish I had a video camera all of a sudden.

Tomorrow...part two...Bobette and Family arrive and with them more questions about Bobette's limping and what we can do to help her. Oh yeah, and I didn't even tell you about MY FIRST SPAY, the companion to MY FIRST NEUTER. That is a fun story. Oh yeah...yikes!

I had a blast kittensitting for my friends at Animals in Distress last week. Their five frisky felines were very friendly and joyful. It was pure delight to be around them-until, of course, they decided it would be fun to climb up my legs! Yes, they all need a CLAW TRIM! Aunt Connie came to get them on Sunday. I was sad to see them go, but it just makes me look forward to getting The Angel Babies and Bob's Pumpkin Patch kittens in the coming weeks.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Uh oh...the zombie kittens are back!

I have a bit of an exciting and surprising update to share. After scratching my head for months, trying to figure out how to approach local Vets to help my rescue, Kitten Associates, a Vet sort of fell (figuratively) into my lap.

It seems that someone who runs a rescue where I used to volunteer is mis-behaving rather badly by having an affair with the husband of one of her current volunteers! The news was quickly spread all over town by the jilted wife/volunteer with such passion that I felt like I needed to duck and hide once I heard the news. Without going into details (there are lots of other issues going on that I can't speak about that make this situation a bit more touchy) or pointing fingers, let's just say that one of the repercussions of these events was that one of the local vets said he didn't want to work with this person's rescue group any longer.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson.

When I heard this news I thought either the Vet would NEVER want to work with another rescue group again, or that perhaps he just didn't want the emotional issues to deal with, but would need time to want to help out again. Feeling rather desperate to find a low-cost Vet, I thought the worst thing he could do was say NO if I asked for his help.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. How not to weigh the kittens..or maybe just divide by two?

What surprised me was that before I could even try to pitch why he should work with us, he said, YES! He just wants to help cats. He's willing to donate some time to K.A. every month. During that time he won't charge me an office visit and will help reduce costs across the board for vaccinations, spay surgeries and anything else. I wanted to cry, but he didn't even want thanks. I offered to help him by doing design work for him at a reduced rate and he didn't need it. He just wants to help a rescue, so he's going to help us.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson.

Do I feel a bit creepy about asking this Vet to help us? Yes, but the future of K.A. depends on us being able to make the most of the donations we get. Because of this Vet's help, I was able to rescue two more local kittens. I have to remind myself, to paraphrase the words of this Vet, it's all about the animals and their well being. The politics and B.S. we can both do without.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Intercepted!

The interesting/challenging aspect of our arrangement is that if I ask him to spay/neuter a cat, that I HAVE TO ACT AS HIS VET TECHNICIAN. This means, shaving the girl's belly, holding them while they get their anesthesia shot, helping with them after they are out of surgery and whatever else is needed. I was told I don't have to watch the surgery-thank GOODNESS! There are things I can do and things I can learn, but there are some things I just can't do. When I have a loving connection to my foster kittens, the last thing I want to see is them knocked out and being sliced open.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Invisible kitty motorcycle rider takes a wicked turn.

Tomorrow is my first time helping neuter the three boys in this litter of black or black and white kittens! Max, Ruby (mis-named!) and Spot are ready to go. Because these are A.I.D. kittens, and I'm sharing resources with them, their Aunt Connie is going to be a Vet Tech, too. We're both going to learn about what's needed. I have to be ready for next month when the two little girls I rescued will need to be spayed. Scared? Yes, a bit. I'm Hoping I don't mess up or irritate the Vet. He's doing so much for us. I wish there was something I could do to thank him!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Stuck to the cat toy?

I guess my thanks will be to show up on time, do a good job and not cry like a baby when I see the kittens come out of surgery!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Ooo! Smells like roses!

I can't help but feel weird about all of this, but in time it will sort itself out. Just so you know, the group that lost their Vet has at least two others they work with, maybe three, so this doesn't hurt them as much at it might appear on the surface.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Off with her head!

By the way, ALL THE KITTENS FEATURED HERE ARE AVAILABLE FOR ADOPTION! They're located in southern Fairfield County, Connecticut. Visit AID's web site for adoption information.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Weeeeeee!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Zombie kitten wants your brainz!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Shy flyer.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Super stretch!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Riding an invisible rocket.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. On no! Zombie kitten on the warpath!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Umm...detachable legs?

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Excuse me, but would you please pet me?

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Woah!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Zombie kitten tries to use the force to move the cat toy closer.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Zombie kitten don't give a squat! Just walks over victim on to next plate full of brainz.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Zombiezzzzzzzzz!

It began simply enough. I was trying to take some photos of Mazie. She's taken to sleeping in the little basket that hangs off the cat tree. Most of the cats are too heavy for it. Nicky tried it once but the results were less than stellar (in his mind...to me the results were hysterical!). I need to update Mazie's photo for Petfinder. She's been here for almost a YEAR! We gotta get her a forever home!

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Umm...yes you are!

As I photographed Mazie, Spencer and the DOOD had to investigate. Mazie, content to literally hang out, wasn't bothered. I snapped a few photos, then noticed that Spencer and the DOOD were getting into a playfight.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Mellow Mazie in her hanging bed-basket.

Of course I had to capture the antics as long as no one was getting hurt and the fighting was kept to gentle bitch-slapping and not claws out and ready to rumble

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. You can tell it's Spencer by the overabundance of pouff.

What was almost as amusing as Spencer and the DOOD going at it was the fact that Mazie continued to sit there, unfazed by the the ruckus. Blitzen lurked in the background. He was probably smart to avoid getting into the middle of it.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Three cats, one cat tree. Now that's a good use of a cat tree!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Spencer and the DOOD begin warming up. Mazie just sits there.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. The only thing missing is the sound of Spencer snorting while he tries to breathe and smack the DOOD at the same time. Blitzen's on the left. See him?

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Mazie? Are you just gonna sit there? I guess so.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Gotcha!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Gotcha big honkin' tail! (Hi Mazie! Still sittin' there!)

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Spencer's got that fed up look on his face (so does Mazie, it seems). This won't last much longer.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Shot looking UP from underside the second level of the cat tree. DOOD!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Spencer, the mascot of CiCH declares playtime is over. Time for the napping phase of the day to begin (again). I hope the DOOD leaves him alone! Mazie is STILL in the basket!

Amberly's kittens are SIX WEEKS OLD! Time flies! Can you believe they were found in a nest under a tree? If you missed their AMAZING RESCUE, you can read about it HERE. Are these the SAME kittens? Is it possible they are NOT SICK? I don't even know what it's like to not have a kitten with upper respiratory to battle or something worse:::KNOCK WOOD::: anti-jinx!!!

I'm SO grateful that the kittens are doing so well and to make it even better, I swear EACH of them is more lovely than the last. Amberly made some very special kittens, that's for certain!

Today, instead of blathering on and on, let's just enjoy a multitude of images from a few weeks ago and more I just got yesterday-including some adorable videos! Grab a cup of coffee or tea and sit back and smile. It's a good day to smile!

Here are the babies! (make sure you scroll ALL the way to the end for the funniest photo, ever!)

So I didn't buy into (much) of the commercialism of Valentine's Day. I got Sam three cards that were silly. One was “from” the cats. He got me three cards, too, and that was it.

I saw something on the local news the week before about a place in Massachusetts where you could enjoy a nice day trip. I checked the map. It was only a two hour drive. Not bad.

They had a special dinner there over this past weekend, but Cara was sick so we had to miss it. I thought if we went on the actual day, Monday, we'd be around fewer people and have a quieter day. I didn't tell Sam about my plans. Oh God, it was another surprise! Haven't I learned from the past? Where is that Time Machine where the me of the future could have stopped the me of the present?! I figured it wasn't a big deal to take PART of a day off, then race back home in time to feed the cats.

To fully appreciate how desperate we are to get away from home. Last year, Sam and I went on ONE (business) trip to Ohio. We drove. It was 10+hours EACH way. If you subtracted the driving time and the business time, we had a vacation of about 12 hours.

The only other time either of us went anywhere was my trip for 36 hrs to visit my friends in PA and attend the Renaissance Festival.

THAT WAS IT. I did NOT go on a VACATION. I have not gone on a vacation for at least three years and even then it was a botched trip to the west, which ended in me spending $3,000.00 to get my car fixed and being broken down in Des Moines, IA for a week. Before that my last real vacation was...I can't remember. Probably a weekend away to Maine or Rhode Island.

Since finances are “that bad,” an overnight trip is not possible-also because of all the cats. We just can't go away.

I told Sam I had a plan for a partial day off. He liked the idea even if he didn't know where we were going. What trust! After I almost killed him so many years ago, he trusted me to plan something nice to do.

The problem was getting OUT of the house.

We were running late. I wanted to be on the road by 9am and it was already 10am. I wasn't angry. I decided to be mellow and just enjoy whatever happened. We put on our winter coats and hats. We loaded up our maps, a camera, Sam's beloved COFFEE. I was a few steps ahead of Sam, my hand about to touch the doorknob, which was connected to the front door, which was connected to FREEDOM, when I heard “OUCH!!!!!! SONOFABITCH!!!”

I dropped everything, turned around and saw Sam holding his foot. He had stepped on something and it had impaled him. He was not happy, to say the least, as he hopped on one foot over to the stairs to sit down. He was yelling about how whatever it was, went through TWO pairs of socks (I don't have the heat on very high, so Sam always bundles up).

I figured it was a tiny splinter, not a big deal. Sam took off one sock, then the other. I could see something in his foot. He tried to pick it out and cried in pain. I offered to get a tweezers and he nodded yes. I lumbered up the stairs around him, still wearing my winter coat, which made getting around very awkward.

I brought him the tweezers and also ended up kicking him in the back, since I was on the stair above him and to get around and down to hand him the tweezers, my foot hit his shoulder. He ignored the kick, took the tweezers and gave a pull. He cried out again and yelled at me to get the hemostat. The tweezers weren't strong enough!

Firstly, I know those are my best tweezers and they can pluck a rouge chin hair in style. Second, what is a hemostat? So I asked. Sam tersely replied; “you know, a “roach clip!”

I realized what he was talking about, as I ran back up the stairs. He had quite a few of those things in the bathroom. Then, as if i had woken a sleeping bear from hibernation, it dawned on me. After living together for so many years, how did I NOT realize what this was? Then I started to worry! Is my boyfriend a Pothead?

So I lumbered back down stairs and kicked Sam, again, in the back. (it was an accident, I swear!!).

I looked over his shoulder. He had a good grip on the splinter. I asked him if he wanted me to pull it out for him and he said, no. He took a deep breath and dramatically pulled hard. I thought he was overdoing it. Then I saw what came out of his foot. My stomach lurched and I nearly fainted!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. The Splinter.

It was a HUGE sliver of wood. Later, Sam was able to determine that it was a piece of the oak FLOOR. Somehow his sock caught the piece, lifted it straight up, then when he put his foot down, WHAM!, right into his foot it went.

I made another trip up and down the stairs to get peroxide and some gauze and yes, another back kick! It was where he was sitting on the steps! Ugh.

I asked him if he could just come upstairs and sit on the bed and I'd bandage him up.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Sam holding the “hemostat”...ha ha ha...I mean splinter.

I am my Mother's daughter. After I got the bandage on, I had to take a photo. That piece of wood was enormous and it went well into Sam. Once the worst was over, I said to him; “Hey, we almost made it out the door. Do you want to just go to the movies today?”

He said he wanted to go on the trip. Even though he didn't know where we were going. I told him I was glad it happened to him because I would have been in a really bad mood and ruined the day if it happened to me. Sam had to agree, being a victim to my stormy mood swings. We both laughed and I told him we'd take it easy and could turn back early if needed.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. I have a new buddy on my sleeve.

We went to the Magic Wings Butterfly Conservatory. Which appeared to be an old Nursery that must have been converted into a place where butterflies fly around and creep you out because they fly in your face and there are signs everywhere saying not to touch them. Does that include not swatting them if they come after you?

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. A butterfly, right?

It was about 100 degrees in the place, too. Finally, Sam was warm. I knew he would enjoy thawing out, the poor guy. The place is small and not very fancy, but with so many butterflies, you really don't pay attention to that. There were a handful of people walking around, all with a camera in hand and not enough kids to ruin the mood by screaming or otherwise being kidlike.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Oh look! Another one!

As we walked the grounds, careful not to squash anything, we enjoyed the dazzling colors of the butterflies. A few landed on us from time to time. The misery of the earlier part of the day wore away. We finally had some peace. No cats. No worries. No splinters. It was really quite pleasant.

Sam needed to rest his foot, so he sat on a bench while I took a few photos now that my camera had stopped fogging up from them temperature change. I noticed a butterfly on the floor, near Sam's bench. It was very still. Upon closer inspection, I noticed it's wings were tattered. Then, I realized it was dead. I really didn't want to see a dead butterfly, but I know they don't live that long. I wished the butterfly well and said “rest in peace” to it. Being mindful that we're not supposed to touch the butterflies, I left it where it lay.

A moment later I was standing near a flowery shrub, about to take a photo. A large blue butterfly, seemed to drop into the bush right in front of me. I could swear I heard a thud. I took a photo of it, but as I put my camera down, I realized what I had just witnessed. This butterfly, too, had just died.

This is when I knew it was TIME TO GO. ENOUGH FUN FOR ONE DAY. I was sweaty and my stomach was grumbling. I knew I was going to swat at a butterfly if one more buzzed too close to my face. Sam's foot hurt.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Somehow there is just ONE butterfly in this panoramic photo, but there were clouds of them flying around in other areas.

We left without further incident, other than me catching a couple with a new baby start to have a fight over the husband not listening to the wife about how to use the camera (yes, the Valetine's Day glow was everywhere). We found a cute mom & pop place to have lunch. It was nothing fancy, but the food was very good. We were the only ones dining, so it was like our own private dining room. The sun was out and the temps went over 50°F for the first time in many weeks.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Another lovely butterfly.

Sadly, as soon as we got there, it seemed it was time to head back. We'd only really had a few hours away from home. With the traffic waiting for us, we needed to get going.

It wasn't a romantic day, but aside from the blood spilled and the dead butterflies, I guess it was a nice day. It gave us a tiny glimmer of life outside our little home, but made us long for more, a longer trip, a longer break. Something that does not include pain, misery or death!

When one of my friends heard about what happened, she asked me; “Can't you guys ever catch a break?”

The answer is simple: NO!

If I could go back and live my life over again, I'd make some changes. The biggest thing I'd change is regarding my misguided, often desperate need to be loved. Why was I so needy? Why did I start having crushes on boys when I was in Kindergarten! Was I already a victim of bedtime stories of the Princess being rescued by the Prince or that one day Mickey Dolenz of The Monkees, would marry me?

Why did I care?

I don't know.

What does this have to do with Cats? This is a cat blog, after all!

Nothing. In my defense, it IS my Blog and I can stray from the topic if it's particularly important to do so; or if I just damn well feel like it.

Neil Parrott. He was the first boy who ever kissed me. He kissed me during recess. We were in First Grade and he chased me around the playground until I ran into the corner of a building, with my back to him. He kissed the back of my head, then ran off. I was mortified.

My family was living in Ohio, in a tiny town where WE were the ONLY Italian (pronounced, Eye-Tal-Yan) people they may have ever SEEN. We had to SWEAR not to TELL ANYONE that Mother was Jewish! Big secret! It was okay that Daddy was Italian, so Mother said she was Calabrese! There was no place to get pizza, so my Mother had to make it from scratch. Every Sunday night we watched The Wonderful World of Disney and ate “pizza”-which was just dough, some tomato sauce and rectangular slices of some sort of cheese with dried oregano sprinkled on top. At the time, it was pure heaven. I can't imagine what my parents must have suffered after being accustomed to eating pizza in Brooklyn and why my Mother had to hide her true background.

After Neil, there was an appropriately long dry spell. We'd moved to another small town. This one was in Minnesota. The next kiss wasn't until I was 12 3/4 years old (which is the number I said to myself when it happened. Yes, I purposely remembered my age because I knew this moment was monumental.) I went to the movies with Brad “Jocko” Johnston. We saw “Godzilla vs. the Smog Monster.” If ever there was a more romantic movie, I couldn't say what it was. All I can remember is Brad sitting to my right. All of a sudden he stretched, then put his left arm around me. I can't remember what he said because my mind went blank, but I do remember what happened next. He leaned closer, said something, then kissed me on the cheek. Just once. I could have died and gone to Heaven right there.

My Mother picked me up when the movie was over and asked me how it went. I couldn't tell her the truth and just said it was okay. I touched my cheek and thought to myself; “I'll never be the same again.” Which also proved my Mother right-I WAS born at the age of 42. I was just an old person in a little kid's body. What kid would be so dramatic?

©1976 Judith K. Feminella. Me. The boy-crazy author, as a teenager.

After that I was done for. All I cared about were boys. Why didn't I care more about SCHOOL? I did well in school, don't get me wrong, but I could have done better and suffered less, if I hadn't always had a crush, usually on some boy who didn't give me a second look.

Which brings me to Valentine's Day.

Why do we get ourselves so wrapped up in a fabricated Holiday that demands we be showered with roses, cards, chocolates and jewelry? Why are we left feeling frantic and miserable if these things don't come to pass? Does anyone think about the flower industry, the sweets manufacturer, Hallmark or QVC? They'd LOVE for you to buy into this day of LOVE so they can grow market share! And don't forget about your credit card company, hoping to raise your “average daily balance” after you spend too much money to prove to your mate that you truly love them and that this special card or gift will prove that.

In a week or two, whatever was gotten will be eaten, thrown out or forgotten..okay maybe some of the cards will be kept in a shoebox, to be burned in the fireplace as part of a cleansing ritual, when you get divorced from your crummy husband in a few years. Oops. I'm talking about myself again.

Do I hate Valentine's Day? Certainly NOT! I love flowers and candy and sparkly things, but I'd like to receive them on another day-like the day after the holiday when they are on sale 75% off, or in a month, just completely out of the blue. Now THAT is saying; “I love you!” Or how about this...every day of the year or every few weeks or when you're having a lousy day and your partner gives you a big hug and kiss? Can't that be enough?

I LOVE romance, too. I love watching romantic comedies. I love, love, but you can't just manufacture this feeling on a particular day! The few times I really tried, planned a special day for my beloved, it utterly failed.

One year I went over-the-top. I had to make up for the Valentine's Day I cannot tell you about-only to say that I broke up with Sam! Yes, I'm a turd, but in my defense, I was INSANE. I wanted to do the ugly deed to his face and not email him or call him on the phone, so I broke his heart in person, then left to celebrate with another guy. I wither even thinking about it.

Hey, I was in my 30's and going through a divorce. What did I know about thinking about other people's feelings? Okay, okay. I was a turd. I'll leave it at that.

So here we were, years later and Sam and I are back together. I planned every moment of Valentine's evening with Sam so it would be memorable. We started with a dinner at a nice restaurant, right next to a roaring fire! I reserved the table weeks ahead of time so we could be right next to the fireplace, ensuring our meal would be EXTRA romantic. We each had a huge steak, red wine and lots of bread, as we roasted at our table. It was like the fires of Hell were fanning our meal. Sam took off his suit jacket and wiped his forehead. My face and chest glistened with sweat, but it was Valentine's Day, damn it! And this was our perfect, romantic evening!

I told Sam I had more in store for him, which is also known as sex. Basically that was probably all he needed and I didn't even have to take him to dinner, but I had to prove my love for him!

I gave Sam a gift. Red silk pajamas. He couldn't put them on until after he had a bath. I bought a book of erotic poetry and lavender bath salts because I know Sam loves the smell of lavender and he loves...never mind. I had candles lit in the bathroom. I drew Sam a nice hot bath. I was going to let him relax in the tub while I read him the dirty poems by candlelight.

Could I please have a Time Machine? Even if I only had time to say SIX WORDS before I had to come back to present day. The me of today could whizz back to that night and yell at myself: "WHAT THE F-CK ARE YOU THINKING?!"

But time machines are as made up as Romantic Holidays.

Sam got in the tub. The water was steamy. Sam's gut was about to burst from eating that huge dinner and I don't think he'd ever cooled off after suffering through the tableside inferno. I started to read. The nice hot water began to raise Sam's body temperature to uncomfortable levels. Before I could finish a poem, Sam said he didn't feel so well.

He tried to stand up, but between the wine and his soaring body temperature, he wobbled, almost falling out of the tub! I grabbed a towel and helped him get dry. He leaned heavily against me. He said he was feeling woozy, like he was going to faint.

I got him dressed and helped him into bed, but the covers were too warm so he just laid there on top of the sheets. His head was spinning. He was on fire-his skin bright pink. I grabbed a glass of cold water and made him drink it, but he only managed a few sips. I put a cool compress on his head. I asked him if he wanted me to take him to the Emergency Room, thinking to myself; “What the F-CK was I thinking?!” Sam laid there, his eyes glazed over. He quietly moaned, his voice barely audible; “No, it's okay. I"ll be...” His breathing slowed then transformed into a deep snore as his eyes closed and he fell into a coma-like sleep. I whispered to him; “I guess you don't want to have sex then.”

That was the year I almost killed Sam due to the pressure of needing to have a perfect Valentine's Day.

So before you start feeling badly because you don't have someone to ask you to "Be Mine," remember that all this Valentine stuff is created to make a buck. If you don't have a Valentine, it doesn't mean you're a loser and you'll suffer a lonely life forever.

In fact, you may be far better off, just as you are. You'll certainly have more money in the bank and you may even live longer.