Sunday was not a very nice day for us. I had to take Boots to an emergency Vet early in the afternoon. My Mother and I were in the living room watching a movie when I heard Boots throwing up at the top of the stairs. Not unusual and no cause for alarm. I paused the movie and went to clean it up. It was just white foamy bile, which was worrying, and I also found some brown splotches next to it that I thought were mud. I had been outside that morning filling up the bird feeders. I cleaned it up and, as is my habit with my pets, sniffed it for any weird order. I was surprised to find the brown splotches were poop.
Boots had already gone into the living room and was standing in the “going to the bathroom” half squat position. She pooped through the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, and finally lay down in the hallway and messed herself. Boots has never done such a thing. She’s never had an accident. I cleaned up after her and saw a reddish brownish tinge to the leavings that I feared was blood. I googled a Vet that was open, Banfield inside the Petsmart, and called them up. They said to bring her in and I quickly cleaned her up a little and took her in.
I brought samples of the poop with me and they did a round of blood tests. They couldn’t find anything. No parasites and no blood in the poop. (After some thought, I supposed the reddish brownish tinge I saw was in fact leftovers from her food, which is that color.) The blood tests all came back normal except her kidney levels were a bit high. They gave me a “prescription” for a special dietary food (which, wonders to wonders, Boots actually likes) and I took her home. The Vet said that for her age, Boots will be 18 years in April, Boots was doing surprisingly fine. He thinks it was a combination of age and possible constipation that caused her accident.
Perhaps she simply didn’t find the litter box to her liking? I had neglected to clean it this week. Bad Patricia! But, Boots is old and we thought it probably time to move the litter box up out of the basement to the first floor. The only place we can put it is the foyer. I’ll have to buy a box with high sides or a lid or else she’ll throw the litter all over the place. I wish she could speak. I wish she could tell me that she doesn’t feel good or something hurts. But I have to wait for a symptom or change in behavior to know if she’s ill. I don’t trust my parents to notice if something is wrong with her. I worry about my last baby getting sick like Little Bit.
The kitty in question, Boots.
I don’t mind my pets dying. She’s old. She’s going to die sooner rather than later. I do mind if my kitty gets sick or is in pain. Death is supposed to come easy, where you simply don’t wake up one day. I’m okay with Boots dying but I don’t want to have to put her to sleep like Little Bit. I called the house a little while ago and my Mother said she seemed to be doing fine. I’ll have to wait until I can get home tonight to check to see if she’s pooped since last night or if her butt still looks puffy. Hopefully, this is something we can put behind us and Boots can live for a few more healthy years.
Well, it’s the New Year and we all know that with the New Year comes our New Year’s resolutions. Some people have a big huge list of things they want to accomplish for 2011. Really, a list of a whole bunch of things just makes me feel pressured and triggers my knee-jerk reaction of “I don’t wanna.” So, I have only two resolutions for this year.
Ugh, lose weight. How cliché, I know. Everybody has lose weight as a New Year’s resolution. The thing is, I’ve been steadily gaining weight for the past five years. A few pounds every year. Back when I was working at Walgreens and on my feet all day I was at the lowest weight I’d been in my adult life. That was 230 lbs. Then I started to work for ITW and sat at a desk. I gained it back at a horrifying rate. Then, in the winter of 2009 I decided I would lose weight again and began to take a walk around the upstart storage area during lunch. It was 20 minutes walking in a circle and I didn’t have to worry about running into anything while reading on the move. I lost 25 lbs. that winter but in the spring I discovered that it got very hot up there as the weather grew warmer. I was forced to stop my lunch time walking and gained the 25 lbs. back with interest. I am now getting too close to 280 lbs. for comfort and peace of mind.
So, this winter it is back upstairs and to walking. I hope to return to 230 lbs. Maybe not in this year but to get a good portion off before 2012. When spring hits, I’ll have to switch to a different exercise. I hope to move out this spring and being in my own place will give me more control. Also, I need to be more mindful of what I eat. On Sunday when I was watching movies in my bedroom on my laptop ( because my Dad was still home and hogging the living room TV and Roku box), I got up to stretch my legs and wandered into the kitchen. I started to snoop through the pantry and thought “Am I hungry or just bored?” I was bored. So I left the junk food where it was and went back to finish my movie. That is the type of thing that will help me lose weight.
As for my second goal, I’m counting the days until May. I need to move out. I can’t stay with my parents anymore. I can’t stand it. I have to restrain myself from murder at this point. And the cigarette smoke is just killing me. I wake up every morning and have to cough and hack the gunk out of my throat. We have four air purifiers, one of which is actually in my bedroom, and it’s just not cutting it. I feel smoked out and the house is always dirty. I can’t clean because my Mom is camped out in the living room doing her best impression of a chimney! So, come hell or high water I will be moving out this spring. I’m on the waiting list for the apartment complex I want to move into and I can’t wait to move. I need to buy a table and measure the doorway to make sure the couch I want will fit through the door!
Happy New Year!
Christmas has come and gone and it was just another day for me. My brother accepted an invitation from a friend in Florida to visit and has been down there ever since last Wednesday. When he returns in the middle of this week, we’ll go out to dinner on New Year’s Day. Because the 2010 Yule dinner was on the Saturday before Christmas, I didn’t have time to go out to dinner then. So, it all got postponed until we could all get together again. I got my Christmas present, my new laptop, at the end of October, so there were no presents under the tree. A tree I only put up so that Dan could have a backdrop to shoot his pictures against when he suckered me into sitting on a stool for two hours so he could fuck with his lights and ‘practice’. I wouldn’t have bothered otherwise. We had pork cutlets and baked potatoes for Christmas dinner.
I have been ill since last Tuesday. Sore throat and congestion. And with both parents in the house over Christmas, I’ve been living in a cloud of cigarette smoke for the past four days. Mom smokes like a chimney when she’s alone and if you add Dad to the mix that’s just another person contributing to the haze and Mom always smokes more when Dad is around. (Why did you marry each other?) Come this morning, I was glad to go back to work just to be able to fucking breathe! I can’t wait for May. No matter what happens with my jaw and TMD / TMJ in the next few months, I have to get out of there. It’s getting unbearable. I can’t stand being in that damn house.
On top of that, my Dad got a home atomizer so he could do his own breath treatments instead of waiting until he was so sick he couldn’t function and going to the doctor to have them done. This basically breaks apart the crap in his lungs and makes him cough it up. However, he somehow thinks it is appropriate to ask his daughter for ‘a small favor’ and hand me the coffee cup he’s been spitting into with instruction to flush it down the toilet. Oh, and “don’t look at it, it’s not pretty”. What part of your crazy brain is telling you that that is okay? That’s disgusting and you’re an asshole.
Let me post this up and then we’ll get on with a proper post. First of all, I’m so sorry for basically disappearing in November. NaNo really did eat me and while I won (I wrote 50,705 words before I relieved I could stop), that’s no excuse for leaving the few readers that I may have had hanging in the cold. I apologize. I didn’t mean to but I hate feeling rushed and the kid in me started bucking with doing both this blog and the NaNoWriMo challenge. But, we will resume normal posting behavior (I hope!) as of right now.
I hope everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving and used up all those leftovers. Now, on to December.
Filed under aboutme, family
Grief is a funny thing. It’s been three weeks since Little Bit died and it still seems to have not sunk in. It’s like I’m waiting for her to return. I have constant thoughts of having not seen her in a while and maybe I should go find her. She always had a habit of hiding, even when she was healthy. Little Bit was always crawling under the sofa or tucking herself away in a corner for a nap. She’d come out when she was ready or when I felt like looking for her. It feels like that now. I hear a bell and think ‘Oh, there she is.’ Of course, it’s Boots and I end up feel silly for a moment. But it’s weird.
I’ve experienced death before. My Grandfather died in 2002 and my Grandmother died in 2007. I didn’t cry. I felt sad but I didn’t cry like I did when we learned Little Bit was sick with something we couldn’t cure. Grandfather was sick for most of my life. He’s been sick ever since I was young, before my teenage years. I don’t have any memories from when he was relatively healthy, just pictures as proof he used to sit at the table with us during holidays instead of remaining in his room because making the trip down the hallway to the dinning room was too much strain. When he was in the hospital for the last few months of his life I knew he was dying and was wondering why everyone was trying to keep him alive. He’d been dead for years in my opinion and I didn’t understand why he kept breathing pretending to be a person. Sorry. That was harsh. But that’s how I felt.
Grandmother never lived. She was Grandfather’s wife. Clyde’s wife. That was kind of it. She wrote a lot. Mostly poems and short bits of flotsam. We went through boxes and boxes of notebooks and scrap paper with scribbles on them when we cleaned out the house but that seemed to be her only feature. I was surprised that she kept on going when Grandfather died. I almost assumed she’d simply stop when he died, like some kind of windup doll without the key. She died suddenly. Spoke with my Uncle the morning of New Years and when he couldn’t reach her that afternoon he went over to the house to find her lying in the hallway. And that was it. Five years of waiting to die.
Does that seem harsh? That I think that life should be for the living? Mostly people just seem to be walking around and breathing out of habit more than anything. The death of Little Bit was the first death that really affected me. Does that mean I loved my cat more than my Grandparents? Possibly. Probably. I’m not exactly impressed with most people and at least Little Bit purred for me. But I actively miss Little Bit. Grief is an odd thing and I’ve never really felt it before now. I know I have weird views on death because of my Pagan background. I see death as just the next stage and probably a better one than what we have here on Earth. Death and going on is kind of the reward you get for dealing with all the shit we have now.
I know my Grandparents are in better place, even if that place is complete oblivion. Little Bit is the same. Wherever she is, my baby is no longer in pain. No more trouble breathing or loss of appetite. I hope they know how much she likes vanilla ice cream.