a glimpse into my future as a crazy cat lady

When Jesse and I adopted Dominick, he came with everything: shots, neuter, ID tag, and microchip. Apparently, since Hurricane Katrina, when lots of animals were separated from their humans, microchipping is a pretty standard procedure. A microchip is inserted just below the skin between the shoulder blades and, when scanned, will provide all of the contact information for the animal's human. Sure, we live in a condo building and it would be nearly impossible for Nicky to escape or get lost out in the wild, but one can never be too sure. Besides, we're not going to live in that condo forever.

Little did we know that Nicky is quite the escape artist, dashing to escape the comforts of home every time we open the front door. He's also quite adept at opening doors. So yeah, the microchip was a good idea.

Since we adopted Gracie from a different agency, she came with her pretty little diva self, recently vaccinated and spayed. The ID tag was purchased at PetSmart and her microchip was implanted this week.

The Animal Welfare League of Arlington (Nicky's previous caretakers) offers low cost microchipping and rabies shots several times a year (so if you're interested in this great service, check out their website). We brought Gracie over there and did not expect to see the animal mad house that was there--puppies and full grown big doggies, ferrets and giant kitties. There was barking and the occasional battle between doggies. The ferrets were pretty quiet, but the scared kitties were meowing like crazy. Gracie, who doesn't really talk much, took it all in from the comforts of her carrier. While the animal craziness surrounded us, I spoke softly to Gracie, trying to keep her calm and to let her know that her mommy wasn't going any where.

An older woman showed up with her two large kitties. As she waited in line, she spoke to them loudly as if they could respond (I do that too, but in the comfort of my own home). "Look, Kitty A and Kitty B (so I forgot their names)! So many doggies!" "As soon as we're done here, we can go home, ok, Kitty A and Kitty B?" "Don't worry, Kitty A and Kitty B, it won't hurt a bit." And then she made some contemptible remarks about the dog owners. "Humph. Can't even control their own animals. My kitties are better than that." You know, standard Cat Lady fare.

And then, a large dog approached her cat carriers. I'm sure he was just the curious sort, but the Cat Lady glared at the dog's owner, who pulled the dog back on his leash. The kitties may or may not have been alarmed. But the Cat Lady came to their defense anyways. With flare, she said, "Don't worry, babies. I would throw myself at any dog that might hurt you guys so you babies don't have to worry about a thing." Hmmm...a bit melodramatic if you ask me.

But then, after we paid and went to the microchipping line, a dog got close to Gracie's carrier and I instinctively pulled her closer to me. Jesse asked me, "Why did you do that? What's the dog going to do? She's already in a carrier." I responded, "Well, I'm sure Gracie is nervous as it is. No need to stress her out even more."

gracie during happier times

The truth is that I was stressed out. I figured the microchipping might be painful. And the last thing I wanted was for Gracie to feel any pain. Jesse and I saw the dog before us get his microchip. When the needle came out of his skin, the dog began to bleed. Yeah, that stressed me out some more. The volunteer saw the look of horror on my face and reassured me, "That rarely happens." The dog seemed ok, but no way was that going to happen to my fur baby.

When it was our turn, I just couldn't look. Gracie came out of her carrier and the vet tech took her by the scruff. She then pulled out a large needle. My jaw dropped. I pleaded to Jesse, "OH MY GOD. I can't look." I took one look at Gracie's clueless yet adorable face and turned away. I grabbed Jesse's arm and then I heard it. "MeOWWWW!" Gracie yelped. I squeezed Jesse's arm. It was almost as if I felt her pain.

I think that shot hurt me more than her.

By the time I turned back to look at Gracie, I had tears in my eyes. I'm not sure why I was crying. The vet tech and volunteer tried to comfort me. By the time we returned to the car, Jesse assured me that Gracie had probably forgotten the incident. In order to make it up to her, I kept offering Gracie her favorite treats--dried salmon.

Here we are, bonding.

When we got home, I was sure Gracie had forgotten the shot because she was her usual happy-go-lucky self in search of food. I'll get over the whole incident eventually.

But every time I remember her loud cry, my heart breaks all over again.

in defense of california

I'm incredibly proud of being from California, but I feel as though I am constantly bombarded by events/people that bring shame to where I'm from. For example, that horrible show, The Hills (which I must admit to watching religiously). How a couple of talentless hacks can become incredibly rich and popular for doing absolutely nothing is beyond me. And I'm particularly offended by the douchiest douchebag ever, Spencer, who I am ashamed to admit was once a student at my collegiate alma mater.

But on a more serious note, I'm ashamed of things like Ahh-nold Schwarzenegger being elected TWICE. If the first term was a joke, the second term is definitely not funny. AND I'm ashamed of basic programs like Education getting cut so badly that my sister's school is laying off nearly half of its teaching staff so that classes can double in size. No child left behind? Oh, I see lots of kids getting left behind in California.

However, every once in a great while, Cali goes and does something that makes me smile, makes my heart swell, and almost makes me do a celebratory dance. And yesterday, that something was the California Supreme Court's decision that the banning of same-sex marriage is unconstitutional.

In 30 days (a delay due mostly to administrative, red tape stuff), the gays in Cali will be able to get married, a right that some straights take for granted but that most gays have been fighting for and denied in most other states (High five, Massachusetts). And this was my favorite part of the ruling yesterday:

...in contrast to earlier times, our state now recognizes that an individual's capacity to establish a loving and long-term committed relationship with another person and responsibly to care for and raise children does not depend upon the individual's sexual orientation, and, more generally, that an individual's sexual orientation — like a person's race or gender — does not constitute a legitimate basis upon which to deny or withhold legal rights.

Wait! So gays are just as human as the rest of us? No effin' way.

Seriously, this ruling is straight out of the Book of Duh, but maybe this just has to be stated somewhere in order for people to realize that every human/citizen is entitled to the same inalienable rights, including the right to marry. I don't understand why people are up in arms about this idea. Maybe someone can explain this to me (without the religious connotations as I am well aware that you don't need a church in order to get married in the eyes of the law).

I read in a poll this morning (that I am not able to reference now because I lost the link) that over 60% of people are upset with this ruling. Really? You know, peeps, there was a time when blacks were considered less than human. There was a time when African Americans were LEGALLY 3/5 of a citizen. Lo and behold, the government saw the error of their ways and now we all have the same rights (equal treatment under the law is a different story for a different blog post). I'm sure that one day (hopefully not too far in the future), our state and federal governments will come to realize that yes, we all are entitled to the same rights regardless of color, sex, AND sexual orientation.

Kudos to Cali for this landmark ruling. Yeah, I know it will probably be contested by the hardcore religious folks. But this is still the setting of a precedent, nonetheless.

And the best part (for all of you gays not living in Cali) about this ruling is that you don't have to be a California resident to get married there. If your state is treating you like a 4th class citizen and denying you the right to marry (and divorce), then here's your chance to escape. So hurry up and book your flights (I highly recommend JetBlue and Virgin America) and get hitched already!

I hear Cali is beautiful any time of year.

this post cannot convey the sadness i feel right now

I was 15. I'm not sure how it all started---the collective family desire to have a dog. We were a cat family first. Right around the time our last kitty passed away, we realized that the neighborhood was changing and not necessarily for the better. For that reason, owning a dog became a good idea. So my mom gave her ok and the search for the perfect dog began.

Eventually, after a couple of disappointing trips to the animal shelter, we answered an ad from a woman selling her german shepherd puppies. By the time we got to her home, one puppy was left. She was the runt of the litter, but she was ours if we wanted her. The lady called for the dog and down the stairs she came. She was a round mass of fur literally rolling down the stairs. Clearly, the puppy was a bit overweight. But she was happy and playful and so sweet. It was love at first sight. I know that's a total cliche. But there's no other way to describe what we felt when that puppy entered out lives. She was so chubby and precious. So what if she was the runt of her litter? She was ours now.

Heidi seemed to be present during many of my life's significant turns. She consoled me whenever a boy broke my heart. She celebrated with me when I got a full scholarship to USC. She exercised with me when I was trying to get fit. The thing is, Heidi was always there, always willing to share in the emotion of the moment, wanting to be a part of something big. Strangely, she was perfectly in tune with my emotions and always wanted to lend a paw to help me in any way she could.

When I moved away for college, it was really hard to move away from her. When my friends weren't available, I went straight to Heidi with my problems and she would always listen with a sympathetic ear. Did she understand me? Probably not exactly. But somehow she knew when I was happy or sad and sometimes the understanding look in her eyes was all I needed to get through. She always let me know that I wasn't alone. And now, here I was, moving away from her. What if she forgot me? What if every time I came home we would need to be reacquainted?

From the first time I visited home after moving away to go to college to the present, Heidi has never forgotten me. Over the years, whenever I return from a long absence, I am greeted by her happily wagging tail. It actually makes me feel pretty good that she still hasn't forgotten about me, even after I moved all the way across the country and only visit about 3 times a year.

Over the last year or so, Heidi's health has been deteriorating. At this point, her arthritis is so bad, she can barely walk. She moves so slowly and painfully that it breaks my heart. This last trip home was the most difficult. I nearly cried when I saw her. She looked old and sick. Whenever I approached her, she would get up very, very slowly. Despite my insistence that she stay down and that I would come to her, she still had that puppy sparkle in her eye. I knew she was excited to see me and the pain in her legs was no match for the excitement in her heart.

Knowing that this was my last time with her, I said my goodbye before I left. It broke my heart to do so. I wanted to be with her until the end. Somehow, I think this farewell was better for us. I did my best not to cry and instead pretended that this goodbye was like any other. I scratched and petted her until her heart was content. I offered her some treats, which she greedily took from my hands. When she became distracted, I walked away and didn't look back. This wasn't the way I wanted to remember her--the happy puppy imprisoned by her failing body.

What I'll remember is all the times she was there for me, all the walks we took, all of the games of fetch we played. I'll remember the tail that whipped around like crazy whenever I came home. I'll remember her cute puppy breath and her stinky adult doggie breath (which I was still strangely drawn to). I'll remember how she loved to hog my bed no matter how big she got. And I'll always remember the excited look in her eyes whenever we were together.



Good night, sweet Heidi-pup. May you have sweet dreams of chasing kitties and opossums forever.

fun fabulous frisky furry feline friday

I'm happy to report that the kitties are finally getting along. I thought that day would never come. It's so odd how one day two terribly belligerent kitties can suddenly start being nice to one another.

That's not to say that they didn't get any help in this process. One Feliway diffuser and lots of Rescue Remedy drops later, the two kitties are playing with each other and the hissing has completely stopped. And now I can say with much confidence that having two kitties is the best thing ever!

Cats have personalities. Who knew? Not only that, but two cats with seemingly opposite personalities can totally get along.

Take my household for example.

As you know, this is Dominick (aka Dom, Nicky, Nicky Poo, Stinky*, Stinky Booty*, Cutie Pie and Kitty One).


He is:

• Older and twice Gracie's size.
• Very vocal. Loves to talk and have conversations with his mommy and daddy.
• Cries all the time for attention. Cries LOUDLY and INCESSANTLY when hungry.
• Cannot resist the allure of the laser pointer.
• Can't jump on counter tops (thank God).
• Can aim correctly in the litter box.
• A little wussy. Tends to cry and run away after getting hit by Gracie.
• Can fetch but is easily distracted from returning the ball.
• Affectionate when he wants to be.
• Can stand being held for longer than two minutes.
• Picks at his food during the day.
• A fan of hiding in closets.
• Can't help but escape every time we open the front door.
• Very, very patient with Mommy and Daddy, and especially with Daddy who makes him do some silly things sometimes.
• Has ADD, which is probably my fault because he has so many toys.
• A Do-er, not a Thinker. He acts on impulse. How do I know this? By the way he instantly hunts his teasers or toy mice as soon as they are dangled in front of him.
  

Now I know you've only met her once, but here is Gracie (aka Gracie Poo, Stinky*, Sweetie Pie, Kitty Two).


Gracie is:

• Super quiet. When she actually speaks, it comes out as more of a peep than a meow. It's really cute actually.
• Only cries when hungry or when Mommy and Daddy finally get home.
• A total Diva and Alpha Cat. Don't ask me how it is that the female, younger kitty is now running the household.
• Knows she's cute and definitely tries to use it to her advantage.
• Always affectionate.
• Very good at turning on the charm when we're in the kitchen because she thinks she is going to get some scraps or leftovers (umm...no hooman food fer yoo).
• Can jump onto counter tops (bad kitty!)
• Resists the laser pointer for a few minutes before she decides to start chasing it because she can't help herself.
• Cannot always aim into the litter box. Sometimes forgets to cover her mess.
• Can only be held for less than 60 seconds before getting squirmy.
• Inhales her food at every meal.
• Growls when I don't let her eat Nicky's food. Actually, she basically growls when she doesn't get her way.
• Very regular. I honestly don't think she can become constipated, even if she tries.
• Willing to put anything in her mouth if she thinks it's food, like buttons or bobby pins.
• A total thinker. Very rarely acts on impulse. She first figures out whether it is in her best interest to play/chase/pounce before doing so.
  

So yeah, if you have a kitty and you're contemplating getting another one, I highly recommend it. It's so much more fun with two!









*DISCLAIMER: Ok, so our kitties aren't really smelly. They actually get regular baths and wipe downs with cleaning cloths. They just tend to look for some love and attention immediately after using the litter box. And let's just say, they don't smell so fresh when they're fresh from the litter box.

the ongoing saga of my faith crisis

With my sister being completely incapacitated after her surgery, I knew that I would have to take her place in helping our mom out. This means taking mom out for her usual errand running, but most importantly to me, this also meant taking my mom to church. Although I haven't willing gone to church in a while, I quickly accepted the fact that accompanying my mom to Mass would be a tiny sacrifice I would have to make.

On Saturday, when I asked my mom if she wanted to go to church on Sunday (as a conversation starter, of course, I already knew the answer), she meekly replied, "Umm...yes, if you want to drop me off and then pick me up, that would be nice." She said it with such painful hesitation that it broke my heart. With resolution in my voice, I replied, "No, I'm going with you." The expression on her face softened and she seemed pleased by this news.

On Sunday, I woke up early, put on a dress, and took my mom to church. It was the feast of the Ascension, when Jesus finally ascended into heaven following His resurrection and post-resurrection Gospel-spreading. It was also the day 6 children were celebrating their First Communion.

The easy-going priest teased the kids with a pop quiz on the day's scripture readings and the gospel. The kids were front and center and probably overcome with nervousness. They didn't answer a single question. Every time a question was asked, I resisted the urge to shoot up my arm and say, "ME, ME, ME" like back in my elementary school days. I answered the questions under my breath, hoping that one of the first communion kids would hear, knowing that my mom definitely did. I realized that 13 years of Catholic schooling really does stick with you.

When time came for the Faithful to get up and receive communion, I remained in my place. I had no intention of going up, knowing that the Church considers my soul to be unclean and therefore not worthy of receiving the Body and Blood of Christ. As my mom got up and followed the procession to the priest, she kept turning back, probably hoping I would change my mind and follow her. I knew I was disappointing her by not going up with her, but I knew in my heart that it was the right thing for me to do.

When my mom returned to our pew, I noticed her eyes had welled up with tears. She eventually came and sat down in the seat next to me and I proceeded to take her hand and just hold it in an effort to comfort her. I will not apologize for who I am and what I do for a living (jeez, you'd think I was a hooker or something--I'm just trying to prevent the spread of HIV one condom at a time). And my mom can't change that.

She should know. She raised me to be stubborn.

I just wish she wouldn't take this decision so personally. My straying from the Church has nothing to do with her, but more to do with my decision to think and judge for myself. I strongly believe in certain things that the Church is against. I still believe in God and in being a good person and in helping those less fortunate. I will not become evil just because I'm not a practicing Catholic.

Maybe one day my mom will see the value in my beliefs, regardless of whether they are attached to an organized religion.