WTF?!

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.

For the past three weeks, I've taken Polly, Chester and Cara to see Dr. Larry at least once, some times twice a week. The kittens are just NOT “getting over the hump.” They get mildly better for a day or two and seemingly overnight they get very sick. They also don't all have the same symptoms at the same time. I've learned not to freak out when I see Polly's eyes all watery again or Chester sneezing, but...what can be done for them?

Last week, Dr. Larry and I had a long talk. He was very concerned that the kittens have FIP. For those of you not familiar with Feline Infectious Peritonitis, let's just say that it's a death knell for any cat who gets it. It's highly contagious, as well, which means I could have put ALL MY CATS, even Bob Dole, at risk for getting this incurable disease.

I did NOT want to think this is a possibility. I pushed back, saying the kittens were chronically ill, BUT they were thriving, in some way, too. They did PLAY, they ate well, they WERE gaining weight. Yes, they were sick with some sort of horrible URI that wasn't responding to MONTHS of medications, but could it be FIP? Oh no..PLEASE NOT THAT. Please don't make me have to EUTHANIZE MY FOSTER KITTENS!!! I could NOT IMAGINE A WORSE CHOICE TO HAVE TO MAKE. NOT MY LITTLE ONES. NO surely, not them. Granted my life sucks right now, but having to face this would put me over the edge and into a dangerous place.

That's why I couldn't write about it. I was too sick.

So we ran tests, even though Polly fussed and screamed, being the sickest, we decided to do the tests on her. We ran a PCR, which might tell us if she has Calicivirus, Herpes, etc. We ran a full blood panel, a stool sample, bartonella screening, re-snap tested her for FIV+/Feline leukemia. The tests cost $600.00 and many took the better part of a week to get results on.

While I waited for test results to come back, I spent time with the kittens, and their mom, Mazie, too. The kittens slept on me for hours. I didn't mind spending that time not working. My head was killing me. Having a headache for two months is not really fun. I loaded up on painkillers and we all took a nap. The kittens have grown fond of me, in their way. Once in awhile, I get a purr, especially out of Polly. Her coat is now like silk, from the grain-free food. I love to pet her while she snoozes. She sounds like a stuffed up duck when she breathes.

Cara tugs at my heartstrings. At 16 weeks old, she is only barely 3 pounds. She has so much mucus in her, if she eats too fast, she regurgitates her food, then hysterically tries to eat it back up, only to pass it out again. I have to feed her very slowly and still she is anxious to gobble up whatever she can. She is so tiny, with such big owl-green-eyes, I can't help but want to do whatever I can to save her life.

The test results started to come in. Bartonella-negative, Bloodwork, ok, but showed she is anemic, just slightly. Stool sample showed positive for a type of coccidia I haven't heard of and I will have to report on exactly what this was later since it escapes me just now. The PCR was inconclusive-probably because Polly has had so many antibiotics. Dr. Larry feels they have a heck of a herpes virus infection...DUH! We knew that going in! Would he take FIP off the table now? He said, YES, maybe, but he also insisted we snap test Cara and Chester for FIV+/Feline Leukemia. So we did that. Negative/Negative. Thank GOD.

Dr. Larry called a vet he knows in Arizona who works with shelter cats. She said she's seen this before. She suggested we hit this and hit it hard and that would get rid of what ails these cats. The problem is, there goes another $400.00.

Here are the meds...I am deworming them with Panacur, it's gonna blow out whatever parasites they've got. They are getting shots of B12, Zithromax, Baytril, Terramycin for their eyes. Most of this will take two weeks of daily or twice daily application. If the kittens don't hate me now, they will soon. I'd rather they hate me than have FIP any day of the week.

The other problem, as usual, is funding. I've asked so much of everyone that I can't even bear to ask now, so I'll just post this ChipIn and if you can help the kittens, that would be very much appreciated. If you can't, no worries.

These kittens deserve a chance at a healthy, long life. If I can get them over this, then I can start the happier task of finally finding them good homes. For kittens who've been sick almost every day of their short lives, it really would be remarkable to see them healthy-at last.

And if this doesn't work...I'm just not sure where that path will take us next. I won't let them down. I just won't, no matter what.

Even if I find out their Mom has RINGWORM...yeah...surprise! She's got it.

Halp.

Normally, writing is something I need and want to do. When I write, my body falls away and my thoughts come to life through my fingertips as I tap away at the keyboard. I always seem to have something I need to say and the words come tumbling out. Lately, I haven't felt that way about blogging and I think I know why.

I think I'm tired of writing about the difficulties in my life. I don't want to be a whiner but the truth about what's going on here, is that things suck. It's a rough road. There is little joy. There is a lot of worry and tension.

Everyone has their worries and tough times, too, so what should I write about? Then, I get stuck.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. You know it's snowed too much when...

This winter has been the worst I can ever remember. Stats put us at over 70" of snow so far. Our typical SEASON of snow is about 50" and not all of it within a few week span. There is more snow due tomorrow and again, the possibility of another big storm later next week.

I've shoveled so much snow, so many times, beaten at the ice dams on the gutters and hung out of windows to break icicles that my arms were too sore to even type out a few words. The injury I had from the car accident in December reared its ugly head. Of course it would! I'm covered in black and blue marks and almost broke a few fingers from all of this. I'm stuffing prescription pain killers and muscle relaxants daily and the side effect of one of them is nightmares-so I'm having those, too.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. ...you need heavy equipment to clear your driveway.

It's been a complete scramble, trying to find out how to keep the house from falling down and running out to re-stock up on supplies the second we have a long enough break in the weather to get out. I've only been able to drive my car once in the past few weeks. I'm stuck relying on Sam's 4wd car. There never seems to be time to tend to my dear blog.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Mac and Bob.

Lastly, there is the sad fact that I can't help any cats for awhile. With the costs for Bob's care ($2000 last month, alone), I can't rescue any cats and pay for it out of pocket-as I so often have done. Now I have to wait until Kitten Associates starts doing fundraisers. I've been working on that web site and waiting for our non profit "green light" from the IRS-which is due ANY day now. I think we'll be starting to plan some fundraisers, but I'm also torn in other directions. I need paying work, I need to sell off some things and I need to get the foster cats that are here, well enough to be adopted out.

Mazie is clear to go, but the kittens are not. As far as Mac goes, he really should be adopted out, but he and Blitzen are buddies so it's a tough choice to make. Mac can also be very fresh with Bob, slapping in him the face and hissing at him every time dinner time comes around. I think as Mac ages, he will make more and more plays to be a more dominant cat. It's already causing problems here-Petunia screams at him from time to time and Nicky has pooped out of the litter pan, onto the floor. I feel stuck, though. I don't know why, but I can guess depression is the core issue for me. I function well enough, but go through periods where I just am a lump and don't get much done. I feel very guilty about it. Maybe some of you have those problems, too? I feel like I don't get enough done and I'm too scattered. I make lists or try to do small tasks, but then I end up losing most of the day to doing Vet runs or pre-storm shopping that MUST be done before the storm arrives-and that usually cuts my day down to the nub, too. I keep trying to find a block of time to just sit down and work, but it's always a rush. Even now I have to leave in an hour to get Bob up to NY for his chemo. I won't be home until 6:30pm. Another day shot.

I'm sorry to be such a whiner. I'm really tired of my life sucking. I have given up on things getting better. I'll still try to make them better, but in my heart it seems fruitless to bother.

24 Hours Later...

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Polly and Cara passed out on my chest.

How could it be in less than a day, things could completely fall apart? Whatever I was whining about seems trivial now. Last night I found something “wrong” with one MacGruber's toes. First, I thought it was clumping cat litter stuck between two toes, but I couldn't get it out and scratching at it made his toe bleed a bit. Knowing that could lead to an infection, I stopped messing with it and made an appointment for Mac to meet Dr. Larry. I was going there anyway, the second time this week, with Cara and Polly. Why? Polly has become very ill, suddenly and Chester is sick, too. Cara is vomiting up large puddles of mucus, but seems otherwise in good shape. I figured it would be another run-of-the-mill Vet visit, but I was wrong.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. With all the rotten weather, there's still something beautiful that comes of it.

I'll fill you in on the details as best I can, but there is a chance the unthinkable has happened. The kittens may have a disease that cannot be cured. I don't want to say what it is. I'm not ready to face it. Tomorrow we will start getting test results back, but I won't really know much until next week. I promise I won't make you wait that long, but I need some time to sort this out on my own, do some reading, maybe do some praying, too. I realize that when you do animal rescue of any kind, there are those animals that come to your door and no matter how hard you try to help them, they can't be helped. It's out of your hands and all you can do is love them until their time comes and you have to find a way to be okay with that.

Right now I'm trying to find my way, but I admit to feeling quite lost.

I'm so angry right now!

Jennifer wrote to me early today. She needed to find a foster home for a cat named, Martini, who was diabetic and whose family was going to put him down, instead of provide him with proper care.

Of course this cat, like so many others, was in a tough spot. Most shelters won't take diabetic cats and most people don't want to adopt them. The worst thing of all is that Martini was only SIX years old. I'm sure his diet was poor and was most likely the reason for him getting diabetes in the first place!

Jennifer spent all day trying to find out what happened to Martini and if they would let her take him and get him in to temporary foster care, while I would drum up someone to take him long term, until we could get him adopted. The folks at the DCIN were going to cover the costs for treatment. It was all good but I wanted to wait to ask for help until we knew the status of the cat.

Jennifer just wrote me again, with bad news. The family chose to euthanize Martini. They didn't even give him a chance. I do not call this “humanely euthanizing” a sick animal.

I call it MURDER.

And I have VERY STRONG WORDS for the VET who did the deed. He or she murdered Martini-he or she did it for a buck. That Vet could have tried to get help for the cat, too, but did nothing. Just put down a SIX YEAR OLD CAT who was NOT terminally ill! It's VERY likely that Martini could have gone into remission and not been diabetic with a simple diet change.

THIS NEVER HAD TO HAPPEN!

I know the name, address and phone number of the people that did this and I am more than tempted to SHARE that information with all of you. These people are vile, reprehensible, selfish monsters. They do NOT deserve to EVER have another cat. If I didn't know I'd get myself into a world of legal trouble, I'd tell all of you to call them and tell them what you think about what they did.

And this guy is a fire fighter. Aren't they supposed to SAVE lives?

Rest in Peace, dear Martini. I hope you have a noble re-birth and come back as a human so you can KICK THIS FAMILY IN THE ASS for what they did to you.

I suppose that like anything else, sooner or later, regardless of whatever the bad news is, you get to a place where the hard edges of pain, soften and you find a new routine. Your heart may be aching, but you have to find a way, right?

Bob's been transformed in the past month, from a sweet (and some times bratty) elderly gentlecat to a frail old man. Bob's thinner. Down two pounds since September of last year. Bob's coat is greasy and he belly is bare from being shaved for surgery just before Christmas. His eyes are the most startling. They seem sunken and dark. Not as sparkly as they once were. Bob used to have quite dilated pupils and there were times when he's look up at me and he'd remind me of Puss in Boots from Shrek. He was very good at that look whenever I was trying to eat dinner and he'd want a bite of something off my plate (which, I have too often given him).

©2001 Dreamworks SKG

Bob has a new routine. He's being treated for a URI (of course, he can't just have cancer and FIV+). One of the meds makes him hungry, so every two hours or so, he finds me or he follows me around so if I get up, I can get him some food, too.

He eats his many small meals. I give him treats. I have to give him a few pills, so more treats with that, too. Bob's been coming upstairs, which was rare. I think he's driven by hunger, but some times I wonder if he feels a bit clingy? He's never been a lap cat. He was so heavy my Mother, who used to have Bob, discouraged him from sitting on her lap. He could sit with his front paws on one leg, so that's as far as Bob will go on us, too.

The days are spent on the good old heated cat bed or lying under my desk in the sunshine. It's common to see most of the beds filled as the sun makes up for the thermostat being kept very low.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. The “Under the Desk Gang” at it again.

Today I realized there's another problem facing Bob. I won't swear but imagine the “F-word” right here...I think Bob has ringworm.

Last week when we met the oncologist I mentioned the skin issue on Bob's head. He didn't want to deal with it-not his thing. He said it should be cultured and that we couldn't do chemo if it was ringworm because it would set the ringworm off like wildfire. I really thought that the ringworm was on the way out, but I was wrong. Bob's head has more lesions and the fur has come off most of the back of his ears. I've been treating it with goldenseal and giving Bob sulpher, per my homeopathic Vet's suggestion. I don't know if it will help. It's too soon to tell. All I know is that this could prevent me from doing ANY more Chemo for Bob until this is resolved. If so, that would mean another MONTH lost. Conventional treatments are VERY toxic and take a month, so I'm not sure we can even DO that. I need to talk to Dr. Larry and the Oncologist. This is all so twisted and confusing. It's tough enough trying to figure out how to manage the cancer.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Blitzen, Bob, Spencer & MacGruber leaving me to figure out where I can lay down so I can go to sleep, too.

I wish I could make Bob smile or see him appear to be happy again. I don't know if I will ever see that perky look on his face, the big begging eyes, the swat with the paw to get my attention. Bob has been transformed and with his change, I change, too. I'm so gentle and careful. I'm not so mad all the time. I'm letting things roll off my back. All that matters are the days I have left with Bob. I know I'm going to mess up what should be done for him or when or how it's done, but in the end, all I want is for Bob to be happy again.

It seems as though Polly has been sick for most of her short life. At about 13 weeks of age, she's been sick for a good 10 weeks. Her sister, Cara Melle and brother, Chester Cheesetoes have also been sickly, too. Their Mama, Mazie, has been mostly spared, but being an adult, her immune system is strong and fully developed. Her job is to hang out and keep the babies company, until I get her adopted. My job is to learn to ride the waves of fear and anxiety, wondering if these little guys are going to succumb to their illness or overcome it.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Mazie (is not mad!), Polly and Cara (Center).

It seemed as though homeopathy was going to make the big difference in getting the cats better, but in the blink of an eye-about 48 hours, really, Polly took a serious turn for the worse. I got her to Dr. larry and he did a chest x-ray to rule out pneumonia and put her on antibiotics-again, will it really help? This is VIRAL! I had to go with it. It was the Holidays so I couldn't reach Dr. Hermans to ask what other things I could do for her from a homeopathic standpoint.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. A few days ago, Cara was doing fairly well.

Polly's left eye sealed shut AGAIN. That eye has been a problem for her since the beginning. I took her into the bathroom and ran the shower. She was VERY snotty and was very tired. In a day or so she perked back up, so I didn't have to do another Vet run.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Poor Polly. Snotty and feeling like crud. Getting a steamy shower treatment in the bathroom.

None of the kittens were resolving their URI. I took them to Dr. Hermans and we discussed treatments for them. She reminding me that their case is a complex one and that I couldn't have come up with a treatment for them on my own just yet. She made some suggestions and a plan for me while the kittens ran around her office, exploring every nook and cranny. She felt they were NOT in bad shape at all and that in time we should be able to get them to recover.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Chester is doing well and SO CUTE!

A few days later, I took Polly and her siblings to see Dr. Larry for a re-check. He thought they were doing OK, but clearly now Cara was doing worse! She was cold and her eyelids were swollen. Dr. Larry put them on stronger antibiotics and asked me to come back again in another 10 days.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Cara was so cold she didn't mind being bundled up at the Vet.

The next night Polly took another turn for the worse. This time it REALLY scared me. She was open-mouth breathing, with her left eye sealed shut and her head was VERY SNOTTY. I had just taken her to the Vet the day before and that was 3 vet trips in 3 days. I was wiped out and did NOT want another Vet bill on my hands! I got Polly back into the bathroom for a steam treatment. I ended up having to force feed her to make sure she wouldn't crash over the night. I got up at 4Am to check on her and her eyes were not sealed shut and she seemed comfortable. The space heater was running full blast and so was the humidifier.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Instead of sitting ON the space heater, I found Cara in front of it, so I put a little cat bed out for her.

The next morning I expected to have to take her to the Vet, but my fear was that taking her to the Vet-being exposed to the winter cold and a car ride, pushed her over the edge in the first place. There was a big snow storm coming, too and I had to decide if I was going to run her to the Vet or not. She was eating a little so I decided to wait.

Cara was so chilled that she kept sitting ON the space heater (since she couldn't sit on the cable box any more after she puked on it and shorted it out!). I realized I needed to get her warm, fast. I drove to Target just as the snow started to fall, to get an electric blanket for her and I got some more stinky cat food at the local pet shop. I made it back home just before it was too late to drive much longer. Instead of getting three to five inches of snow, we got thirteen! I-84 was just about shut down and I heard reports of it taking people FIVE HOURS to get home, instead of minutes...

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Cara loves the heated blanket, but she's still not feeling well.

I couldn't get home fast enough, both to avoid the weather and to get Cara and the others warming up. It took about five minutes for the kitties to realize the blanket was warm and later that afternoon, I found them all stretched out sleeping.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Polly returns to kicking butt, even though she's still snotty.

Polly seemed to be doing better. The high calorie food perked her up. Her sinuses were draining. I was watching the humidifier more carefully and I think it made a difference that it was always full of water.

Then it was Cara's turn to get really sick-again!

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Oh dear! Back to the Vet, or keep her warm and stress-free? What's best?

Cara is a tiny little thing. She's over a pound lighter than her brother, Chester and she's about the size of a six week old kitten. Her paws are no thicker than my pinky. Last night her eyes were sealed closed. She wasn't as snotty as Polly had been and even being blind, she found her food and ate quite a good bit of it. Her belly is really BIG and I just de-wormed the cats two days before. I do not want to say things like FIP, so for now I won't. Cara has been vomiting, still, very small amounts and only every few days. Since the de-worming she hasn't vomited, but that could change.

I believe some of their illness had something to do with being de-wormed. That killing the parasites opened them up to being a bit more sick or perhaps it made them have a mucus build up reaction? I don't know if there is ANY correlation, but maybe some of you guys know about one?

So last night was spent in the bathroom, yet again. I took Cara and Polly (to keep her sister company). I washed Cara's face and got her eyes to open. She was very quiet, but gave me a little purr, then waddled around the bathroom after her sister, Polly. Polly was like a new kitten-running all over the bathroom, bouncing up and down, attacking Cara and having a great time-even though she's still fairly snotty, herself. I was texting Jennifer and Polly got too curious about the bathtub. As I put my iPhone down, I heard a splash! Polly fell into the tub! Fortunately she was only up to her belly in water. She didn't seem to mind at all! I got her dried off, but she went right back, almost falling into the tub a second time. Yes, time to DRAIN the water out of the tub, good idea.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Even though she's sick, Cara still played with her sister. A good sign.

It's been a few very late nights and very early mornings. With kittens, I can't be too careful. I monitor them like a hawk and when I see they're not doing well, I try not to freak out. I'm finding that I can be more gentle and relaxed now that I've been through this quite a few times. I don't know everything there is to know about kitten care, but I know that if I'm calmer, they can be calmer, too. No stress is very important for them and I've got to get them over this hump of getting better, then getting worse. I'm learning what may be setting them off and giving them every chance I can have what they need to get strong. Between a good diet, a warm, humid room and lots of lysine (and meds!) and love, it should do the trick.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. At least some of the cats are doing all right! Mazie is a handful. She's like a giant kitten, she's so playful and Chester is turning into a big love-bug.

Fortunately, Chester, though sick, too, is not in as bad shape as his sisters...so far...though from what I've seen it can change at any moment, so I'm not taking anything for granted!

I thought Wednesday was bad. Okay, and I was right, it was. Yesterday morning was worse, around 6AM, Petunia attacked Blitzen who was SLEEPING on the bed with us. She has gone berserk-a jealous rage about MacGruber being here. She's taking it out on Mac and Blitzen, but mostly Blitz. The poor cat walks around looking miserable. It's got to change. I want peace and quiet in the house for Bob's sake, as well as my own.

Since I was already up with my heart was beating out of my chest from being startled awake, I thought I'd go check on Bob. He was sitting in “his spot,” on a fleece cat bed that's covering a heated cat mat that's on three fluffy cat beds. A Princess & the Pea set up if ever there was.

Bob looked glum, but he got up and ate a little bit for me. He looked particularly dreadful, but I had to take Polly and her siblings back to visit Dr Larry. I need to update you on them and will do that soon.

Around 10am, I gave Bob his antibiotic and an antihistimine pill that's supposed to make him hungry. I syringe-fed him some water to wash it down. He gagged. I realized he had gagged right after he ate his breakfast, too. He didn't want a snack. He got up and seemed weak on his feet. He went over to the table and sat under it, to get away from me. My heart sank. Something was wrong.

While at the Vet, I almost had a nervous breakdown. I didn't even want to talk to them about Bob. I just wanted to get the kittens looked at and go home. Dr Larry pulled me aside and we talked...about Bob. He was very concerned that I've already tapped my limit to what I should spend on Bob's care, that I will lose my home, what happens if another cat gets sick, too? What then? I could only answer that I hoped it was a cat I didn't like too much, then started to cry.

Dr Larry kept saying what a great person I am and how I love Bob and give him the best, but there's a point where I have to stop from going broke. He figured I was long past that and I had to agree. Where we differ is where things end. Where do I stop tapping every resource I have? Plus, I don't care about what anyone thinks. I have to go to bed at night and be confident that I did what I felt was appropriate for Bob's quality of life, even if it means it's expensive.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob, a week ago.

I went home. Bob looked bad. I offered him some food. He turned away. Bob ALWAYS PURRS almost ALL the time. No purr. He was clearly depressed. He licked his mouth-nausea. He gagged a bit. He was supposed to be HUNGRY, feeling GOOD, not this...no.

I called Dr. I. and voiced my concerns. I didn't know what to expect and maybe I was just seeing something normal or was there a problem? He told me to bring Bob back to New York and he would do another ultrasound on Bob's abdomen. Perhaps he has cancer in his stomach or intestines. Time to take a look. He could give another kind of chemo today, too! What? That was not part of the plan yesterday! I told him I had to think about it. I couldn't do that to Bob-not another car ride. I couldn't do that to ME. Those tests were gonna COST.

I went online and looked up Elspar. Just about shit a brick. Over and over I saw “not recommended for cats with LIVER disease or who have had PANCREATITIS!” Bob HAD a horrendous pancreatitis flare up two years ago! Bob has 1/2 of a LIVER? WHO would give this stuff to BOB? It was probably making him SICK and possibly hurting him a lot worse than it was helping him.

So I called Dr. I again. I needed some explanation. I talked to the Vet Tech. She tried to gloss it over. I was not having it. She said to come up and they would run tests. I said how much will that cost? He should be on an IV, that means an overnight stay. There's a snowstorm coming. I would be trapped in New York or not able to go back and get Bob for who knows how long? How much is THAT going to cost? I asked if Dr. Larry could help Bob locally (and less expensively) and he's not open 24/7 so that would be a problem. I was truly panicking. Do I wait it out? Does Bob need to be at the Vet, on an IV NOW?

It's one thing when you have a cat with upper respiratory. The first few times it may be daunting, but after awhile you KNOW when the cat needs vet care and you KNOW when to let them ride it out. With this-who KNEW WHAT to do?! If I couldn't get Bob to eat, I'd have to force feed him. I could do that, but he was gagging and very uncomfortable. Even I thought he might need some fluids, at least. They said I could come to the clinic before 5pm or at 10:30AM on Friday they would have an appointment for Bob if I thought I could get him through the night.

Shit.

I didn't know what to do. It was about 2pm-last time Bob ate (according to my notes-and yes I take notes about when Bob does just about everything) was at 7am. It was make or break. He had to eat.

I opened a can of Evo, Beef. Bob seems to have a craving for this for some reason. I put a tiny bit on a plate, warmed it and brought it over to him. I put some on my finger. He sniffed, but did not turn away, as I expected he would. His old man, softened pink tongue slipped out of his mouth a little way and licked at my finger. Then Bob sat up! I put the plate in front of him, being careful not to push to much to get him to eat. I didn't want him to run back under the table and hide. He began to eat! He stopped after a few bites and stood up. He's used to eating in "his place" by the kitchen so I walked him over to the spot and put the food back down. He kept eating. I could NOT believe my eyes.

He even did his "thing" in the litter pan, then I gave him a few chicken treats, which he ate right up. I didn't want him to get sick from eating too much and he seemed satisfied. He found his way into my office and headed to one of the beds under my desk. He sat right next to Petunia-who he hates and Spencer, who is his co-Boss-of-the-house.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob, with his buds. (I'm going to put a better cat bed in "his" spot today!)

I have a space heater running so it's nice and toasty and the area under the desk gets lots of sun, too. The cats settled down and Bob went back to resting. I didn't want to be too hopeful, but I knew I could hold off on taking him to ANY Vet for awhile.

The trend continued. Bob ate some dinner, not a lot, but some. The Vet called me from NY. They were wondering how Bob was doing and if I was coming in that afternoon. I told them no. I wanted to say, you're not getting any more money from me today, OK?!

Since there's a storm coming, Sam and I realized we HAD to run to the store and stock up on a few things or we'd be eating Bob's cat food, too. We were gone for an hour or so. When we got home, I unlocked the front door, but before I stepped inside, I thought about Bob. I thought that I could open the door and he could have passed away while we were gone. Then I chastised myself for thinking that, but I couldn't help it! I took a deep breath and opened the door.

There was Bob. Standing up, clearly waiting for us to come in the door. He was obviously HUNGRY again! I was overjoyed!

I couldn't wait to get the groceries put away so I could give Bob one of the treats I bought him. Bob LOVES raw chicken liver. Yes, RAW. He is a FREAK about it. So I cut up two big hunks of liver. The entire time Bob was getting under my feet, blocking my way, almost tripping me-as he USUALLY DOES when he WANTS FOOD. He can be SO ANNOYING and I JUST LOVED IT! This was a Bob I had not seen since before his surgery!

I put down the plate of liver. I had to give some to Blitzen, too. He shares Bob's passion for the stuff. Blitzen dug in, but Bob gave him a run for his money. Bob ate with gusto and cleaned his plate! Then he walked over to his heated "Princess" bed and relaxed. Whatever is in that pill was working wonders.

I can't adequately describe what a shocking difference in Bob I've seen. He's more social again, climbs the stairs, is starting to meow a bit, though it's more of an “air-meow.” He's a lot less fussy about his food, too. As for the effect those pills had on me...well, I feel like I can breathe again and my heart isn't racing.

Crossing Fingers, but...I think that maybe, just maybe I will be canceling that 10:30am vet appointment for tomorrow.

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

Update: I DID CANCEL THE APPOINTMENT. No Vet for Bob TODAY!

I'm drained-emotionally, physically and financially. We just got home at 8pm, after leaving for New York at 1pm. It's been a really long day and everything aches. I think my head is going to crack in half.

I'll quit complaining and get back to the important stuff: Bob.

Today we travelled to Wappingers Falls, NY to meet Dr. I., the Board Certified Oncologist. I was expecting just a consultation and that it would cost about $165.00. He'd look over the blood test results and the biopsy report. He'd talk about next steps and he'd sketch out the costs and we'd schedule some treatment or he'd say Bob cannot be treated for whatever reason.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Nice office and staff, but I KNEW this was gonna cost just by looking at the signage!

But nothing went according to plan.

Bob has many complications: 1. He is FIV+, 2. He's a Senior, 3. He has an upper respiratory infection, 4. He has the remnants of a fungal infection on his head (which MUST be GONE or no chemo). 5. Bob has lost almost two pounds now, since September. He used to be a robust 14-15 pound cat. Now he's just a slip over 13 pounds. He's GOT to stabilize his weight. He's GOT to get rid of this damn URI that he's had for 11 days.

So the Dr. suggests taking x-rays. They have a digital x-ray machine. Very awesome and of course, expensive. I feel a tug at my purse strings, but I let it go. Then he wants to repeat Bob's month old blood work in their own lab AND send another full CBC out to another lab! No! They can wait a day and get the full CBC and not charge me twice for doing the same bloodwork for the most part! Sheesh. I saved $89.00. Oh wait...then he said that the pathology, though done well, should be looked at again by another specialist. He felt that we could get MUCH more information from this other person and we'd get more of an idea of this is “large cell” or “small cell” lymphoma. [we're hoping for small cell]. The problem is that it takes TWO WEEKS to get results and in the meantime, Bob is losing weight and the cancer will have two more weeks to misbehave. Oh, and he will have a radiologist/internist look at Bob's x-rays (ka-ching). I started to guess how much this was going to cost. I thought $850.00. WRONG! $1200+.! I tried not to panic. This is on top of the $5000.00 I already had to “find” to cover Bob's surgery and tests before the surgery. It's probably more than that, but I really don't want to know right now...And the first person who rakes me over the coals for spending this money is going to be kicked in the teeth. For one thing, this didn't come to me as a bill for $5000+. It started with a few x-rays. Then it was an ultrasound. Then it was blood tests. Then, a surgery, etc...Would I have done this differently if I knew up front what this would cost?

NO I WOULD NOT. I've got Bob's back. I'm not going to just toss him aside for MONEY!!! He's a living, breathing creature. He gives me his love and asks for nothing back. He does not deserve to be left to die slowly or be euthanized because of cash. I find that repulsive! Would you cut care to your MOM? Your kid? A stranger, even? A person you passed on the street? You wouldn't deny anyone who had a fair chance to recover and live comfortably, a chance to do so. [stepping off soapbox now]

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Not sure if he wants to get out of his cat carrier, after all

I tried to decide if we could get away with not doing what he suggested, but it DID make sense. We needed to compare his bloodwork and x-rays to what we had before his surgery, so I said yes. They took Bob away and asked us to go get a coffee and come back in a hour.

We went to the front desk, of course, because we have to pay 75% of the bill right NOW, before they do a thing. God forbid they wait an hour to get paid in full. So I whip out my good old Care Credit card and they say "they can't access our limit information" so we have to call them. We call them and they say there is something wrong, but won't say what it IS! So we're standing there trying to think of how to come up with the money when we weren't prepared to blow a huge hunk of cash. I did not want to use the old, beaten AmEx, but I had no other choice. Fortunately, it worked fine and they smiled and said thank you and I grumbled under my breath, freaking out about CareCredit's rejection. I was so embarrassed and I had NO IDEA WHY there was a problem. I KNOW we have plenty of room on that card and we pay the bill on time. Sam tried to comfort me by offering to deal with them-which I gratefully accepted.

I'd noticed a Panera Bread cafe on the way to the Vet, so we drove over there to kill some time. We were both ashen, miserable, and glum (which could be a good name for a law firm) as we sat with our caffeine (mine a tea, of course, Sam's a coffee, of course). I said it was a pretty day, with sparkling blue skies. That we were lucky to enjoy a nice day. We were together, neither of US had lymphoma (which without health insurance, I'm guessing we'd have to just crawl into a hole and die). I tried to get Sam to look on the bright side, but I couldn't convince myself-how could I convince him?

We've had the WORST few years of our lives. Work is just not happening and the work we DO get, well the clients just can't pay very fast. I'm on month three of waiting on an invoice for one project. We keep thinking, as so many people do, it's GOT to change for the BETTER SOON. I can't remember a time when the economy was so awful for SO LONG. It makes us feel terrified and desperate. We're trying to smile through the fear. Trying to enjoy our life day to day, but it's getting tougher and tougher. I said we should just kill ourselves and be done with it, but Sam reminded me...who would care for our cats? What about Bob?

I couldn't argue with that.

So we picked ourselves up and went back to the Vet. Dr. I is very good at telling people bad news. He must have a lot of practice. He motioned for us to come over to his computer screen. There was the x-ray of Bob's chest, from the side (lateral view, if you want to be fancy). Dr. I remarked at how GOOD Bob's lungs looked. There was NO apparent cancer and NO apparent disease. He didn't say “BUT,” though I KNEW it was coming.

What concerned him was...then he zoomed in on an area between Bob's 3rd and 4th ribs...it was a small mass. I could not TELL it was a mass. It didn't look significant at all. Dr. I said that Bob's liver cancer, they type of liver cancer, does not normally EVER spread. Once it's removed, it's gone, so he would not expect that mass to be "that" type of cancer.

©2011 Robin A.F. Olson. Bob is not so happy to hear the news that he has another cancerous mass. This one in his chest.

If it WAS lymphoma, Bob has lymphoma based in his abdomen. Usually if it's in the abdomen it STAYS there and it's easy to treat and it often is a “small cell” cancer. Seeing a mass in his chest could mean it's NOT small cell and it needs to be treated right NOW.

Dr. I felt that we needed to change things around. We'd start Bob on chemo tonight, treat his URI with antibiotics and antihistamine, re-check x-ray (ka-ching) in a week and see if we're getting rid of that chest mass and if Bob is starting to gain some weight. They we may continue on the chemo, weekly (so a 100 mile trip each week), for about six weeks, BUT we may have to change course and use something else depending on what the new pathologist finds out.

I wasn't pressured at all. Dr. I. knows his stuff. Lymphoma is very common in cats and dogs. He treats it ALL the time. He loves giving chemo to cats. He says they do great on it. I realized, though, that he barely even looked at Bob. He just went by the x-rays and test results. He was very precise and informative. He told me the bad news and I didn't cry until after I left his office.

They asked us to get lost for another hour and a half while they gave Bob the shot and kept him under observation. We drove around and found a bookstore and a cutely named coffee shop. We broke our cardinal rule and had a small meal at McDonalds, which I think may have been the first time in 16 years we ate at one. We were too tired and too broke to care about where we ate. We sat in a booth. There was a flat screen tv and a fireplace in this McDonalds. The audio for the TV was playing out of two different speakers, slightly off sync so it sounded like we were really really stoned and listening to the news. It was loud, too. We both were irritated and uncomfortable. We looked at the food we ate and made faces at each other. This was setting up to be a really awful day. I could not stop thinking about Bob. I just wanted to go HOME. I wanted to be home so I could hold Bob and CRY, but I was sitting in a weird McDonalds with out-of- phase speakers and a prehistoric guy in a plaid shirt sitting nearby watching the TV in rapt silence, as though everything always sounded just like that awful TV and everything was completely NORMAL when it was FAR from it.

We got out of there as soon as we stopped chewing. We returned to the Vet and paid the remaining 25% of the bill, got the discharge instructions and waited for Bob. One of the Vet Techs brought Bob out. I opened the top on the carrier and he sat up. I petted him and he purred, his Bob-purr. He was still Bob. He wasn't glowing or limp. Like, me, he just wanted to go home.

I loaded him in to the back seat, then took the seat next to him. Sam started the car and drove us toward home. I opened the door to the cat carrier. It was dark, too dark to see into the cage, but I put my hand inside it and felt Bob's silky head. I petted him alongside his face and felt his ear. It was cool. I petted him a bit more and I could feel his purr through my hand. It was a comforting feeling, pretty much the only one I'd had all day.

When I started writing this Blog in 2006 I thought I'd get a book contract out of it and have a fast-track at fame and fortune. What I never expected was where I'd be just four short years later.

I was a Graphic Designer, copywriter, foster mom (once in awhile). I didn't know much about cats, other than they bugged the crap out of me, I mean, that I loved them. That if I really thought about it, I'd been devoted to caring for cats whenever I had the chance since I got my first cat when I was four years old.

This past year, has probably seen the biggest changes in my cat-centric life, so far. I took on more responsibility with the rescue group I was with, I got better at dealing with long-term sick kittens (well, not better, as much as just dealt with it), I wrote more about cats at kill shelters who were in dire straights and was even able to help rescue a few of them.

©2010 M.S. Yodel, one of the first rescues of 2010.

I'd say, though, that the first half of the year was spent feeling angry and frustrated. The Director of the group I was with was probably the most passive-agressive person I've ever met. She has the ability to sound like she's being nice, but her words always meant "NO." I felt like I was ready to take on more and more, but she was restricting me to doing less and less. She'd make a rule, then change it to suit her needs, then be short with me if I called her on it. There was one excuse after another as to why I couldn't foster in my home-even though I begged. She refused to let me take in cats, even though they were local and I had space and time. She placated me by offering me a non-voting place on the Board of Directors. I thought that was only due to her fear that once I found out the local pet food shop owner was also asked, that I'd be put out if I wasn't asked, too.

The first meeting of the Board was the last straw. There it was clear she wanted me out. She said things like “I don't have anyone who can do adoptions other than myself and one other person (her partner, not me).” Meanwhile I was sitting there, in complete SHOCK. I had done 50 adoptions on my OWN over the past year-which was about 50% of the cats they took in! I felt kicked in the teeth. I started to say something, but got talked over. Then she fawned over another member who as a background in Public Relations. She asked HER about "Branding" the rescue group and coming up with a tagline that worked better. Meanwhile I have over 25 years of experience doing Promotions and Advertising. I'd done most of the graphics for this group for FIVE YEARS! Public Relations understands about Branding, but designers, like myself are the ones who CREATE how a brand works, in the first place. I didn't get it. I was eager, ready to go, wanted to help, had ideas, yet, no...I guess I was filing a seat. I was too stunned to say anything-my blood was BOILING.

Weeks later, I found out some things about how this person operates and how she doesn't appreciate anyone having more power than she does. Who cares? I didn't care about that. I just wanted to rescue MORE cats! I started to hear horrible stories about her behavior in dealing with other people. As much as I loved helping the animals, I finally got up the nerve to write my letter of resignation. There was no way I could work with this woman ever again. I was broken hearted more than I can say. I did not want to go. I felt shoved out the door. I was so devoted to this group that they're in my WILL. They were to get a sizable portion of my Estate when I pass away and they knew that, too. I guess it was time to move on—it had been for a long time.

©2010 Robin A.F. Olson. The only foster cat I had until after I started my OWN rescue group. This kitten was feral, but I socialized him in two weeks. He's now adopted.

What shocked me most was the reply I got to my letter of resignation-that “we part on good terms” and “I wish you the best.” Not surprised that I quit suddenly right after a Board Meeting. Not sad. Not even a phone call. Just an email-glad to be done with me, I'm sure.

I had THOUSANDS of photos and artwork for five YEARS of fundraisers and adoption events I oversaw. That email was the last I've heard from them. They never once asked for a file or an image of THEIR OWN foster cats since that day in July.

I spent some time soul searching. I was offered the chance to take over a small, local cat shelter, but it was too far from my home for me to be effective there. Instead of me running the place, I made a few good friends. I offered to help them and they offered to take adult cats from me, should I need a placement for them once in awhile. It was a great fit, but still...my heart was sour about volunteering somewhere new. I didn't want to waste more time ramping up to how another group does their "thing," then discover it was run by someone who was either crazy or a tyrant. Many of my readers suggested I just make a go of it on my own. I figured, why not? I know enough to get myself in trouble. Might as well. At least this way I get to be the crazy person, but I'd rather be the fair-headed, friendly, team-player I've always been.

The Birth of Kitten Associates, Inc.

With the economy the worst it's probably EVER been in the history of our Country, I decided to go for it. Sam came up with a great name and we spoke about what we would do, in addition to rescuing cats in need. We knew that with our background in design, advertising, web site design and database building, we could easily build web sites for OTHER rescue groups and municipal shelters who needed our help. If we could help other rescue groups do a better job at saving lives, we'd end up saving THOUSANDS of animals: dogs and cats! It would be a far bigger way to help animals in need and as far as we knew, no one else was doing this!

We'd find corporate sponsors to foot the bill and they'd get some free advertising and we'd get paid to build the web sites that way. We'd open a foster network and rescue cats from wherever they needed help. I also began posting information about cats I could not take into my program, but cats that were either needing funding for life-saving surgery or cats who needed a home.

My dear friend Jennifer, works for a lawyer who could help us with our paperwork. The lawyer knows a very nice CPA who guided us about how to deal with fundraisers and our taxes-at a discount. Things were just falling into place. We filed the papers, became incorporated and are now within minutes of getting our final “nod” from the IRS to get our 501(c)3 and be a true Non-Profit.

I already had a small team of dedicated folks in Georgia who would help me rescue cats, there. I had some donations coming in the door. I just had to start rescuing some cats. I was scared to death!

Just some of the kitties we saved in 2010!

In the four short months Kitten Associates has been running we've already rescued and homed most of the 26 cats and kittens we rescued (we still have a few here not ready to be adopted). We helped home an additional 8 cats by partnering with other groups in the South. We helped pay for vetting and care of, not only our own rescued cats, but Hope, the kitten who was abused by a fish hook and whose rescue group could not afford to pay her Vet bill! We gave her Vet $850 that we raised which paid her bill, in full and was able to pay for other cats who needed Emergency Vet Care, too! By using social media we got the word out on the cats we couldn't take into our Program, but who we felt we needed to help. At LEAST, an additional 24 cats get rescued by other groups or get adopted just because we ASKED for help (we're not sure of an accurate number because once we get the word out, sometimes it gets picked up by thousands of people, so this number could be VERY LOW!) and had YOU to help us in our Mission!

That's a total of 59 CATS who's lives were saved in a few, short months!

...and a few more familiar faces!

Not bad, considering I am the ONLY foster home in Connecticut and I only have a handful of foster homes in Georgia!

It's been quite a year in some respects. When I call Henry County, they know me. The local Vet we use in Georgia calls me “Miss Robin” and is very kind about providing us discounts. When they needed help after getting two cats dumped at their door, I was able to help them, too. It hasn't been all perfect or blissful. I haven't helped nearly as many cats as I'd like, but it's a noble start.

Now that my dear cat, Bob has cancer, I don't know what 2011 will bring. I don't know if it's a great idea to foster cats when I have an immune compromised cat with cancer in the house. I know I'll find a way to help, but I have to balance what the “price” I'm going to have to pay will be.

For 2011, I want to focus on getting basic fundraising going so we have a base of donations to draw from so we can quit worrying all the time about all the bills I have to pay out-of-pocket. Our web site needs a lot of work to be finished up. I need FOSTER HOMES! VOLUNTEERS! CREATIVE FOLKS who want to help us plan events! Folks with lots of experience doing cat rescue so we can have help if any of our cats fall sick-until we can get those cats to the Vet. There's a lot to be done, but hopefully by the end of the year, we'll be operating more smoothly and have most of the kinks worked out.

So let this be a warning to you bloggers out there. Sure, write about what you love, your passion, but be careful about where it takes you. You could be hoping for a book contract, as I did, and end up with a whole lot more than you ever dreamed. Like the pebble in the proverbial stream, it's okay to bounce along with the flow of things and see where the water takes you.

It will certainly make for an interesting journey.

Happy New Year!