2024 Can Suck It, Part VI

The washer is unfixable. 

Well, let me rephrase -- it can be fixed. It would need to be completely disassembled, have several very expensive parts completely replaced, and the cost of those parts plus the time and labor involved outweigh the washer's actual worth/cost to junk it and just replace it with a comparable model. 

So, that's what's going to happen. Our home warranty (who we have the repair/replace coverage through), gives us several no-cost options and multiple others that are lower-cost-to-us options -- meaning our washer is worth like $700, but the ones that are not fully covered are like $900, meaning we'd pay $200. For example. 

I helped Daisy pick a new one, and it gets delivered today. It's different -- not as high-technology as the old one (which makes me happy, since I hated all the electronic controls/touchscreens on the old one) but functionally the same. It will be delivered, installed by the delivery teams, and the old one will be hauled away. So, that will be taken care of, at least. Final cost to us is essentially free, as we are getting reimbursed by the home warranty folks. Eventually. "Within twenty-one days," says their literature.

All of you reading this -- if you own your own home, a home warranty is definitely worth it. I know I've told you this before. Between repairs to plumbing (toilet, sink, floor drains, and the garbage disposal), electrical, the furnace, the microwave, the stove, the refrigerator, and the washer multiple times, it has paid for itself so many times over. It will be well worth it to you if you have a house that's older with older appliances, trust me. 

The house is slowly returning to some semblance of "normal" after Maggie's passing. Her death came at a weird time socially for our cats, as she and Empress only coexisted in the house for way under a month at the same time, and two weeks of that she was sequestered away upstairs in the bedroom. As such, we maybe only had ten days or so where all five cats existed and free-roamed the house together as a unified unit -- and while Maggie would watch Emmy and Emmy would watch her, the two of them never really interacted aside from being physically in the same room together. As I've said before, Maggie never gave a single shit about either Emmy or Hank other than some passing glances and the occasional sleep-cuddle with Hank on the couch.

In Maggie's absence, however, Pete and Sadie have become completely comfortable with Emmy being around. Emmy has always liked Pete, and occasionally Pete has given her some of that old man, big dad energy, but mostly he is also a quiet observer of her. She'll lay with him occasionally and want him to make over her, and he will for brief periods, but their dynamic is so different than the one Pete shared with Hank -- which was far more playful rivalry, but also cuddly, lovey, and brother-like. Now that Hank has gotten older and is no longer really a kitten (he still is by age, but I mean, he's far more mature and much more of a grown-up, big boy now), they really share space and love in a much different way. Hank doesn't go after Pete for playtime or comfort cuddles anymore -- he has Emmy for that now.

Sadie I sort of feel bad for in some ways but also feel very happy for in others. She did just lose her sister, who had been by her side her entire life, and while she expresses that grief differently than Pete (she doesn't pee on things or howl throughout the house, which is a plus), it is still noticeable that she is in whatever the cat equivalent of mourning is. Sadie was always a very co-dependent cat -- she would never have functioned well were she to be the only cat of a household.

I know this is deeply ironic because I have also written here before that she is fiercely independent, and she is, but let me explain further.

Sadie is co-dependent in the fact that she needs to be in the presence of humans or other cats at all times. She does not like being alone in any capacity. That being said, she doesn't necessarily want to interact with the other cats or humans -- she just wants them physically there. She will ignore the shit out of everything that's going on most of the time, but the second all activity ceases and she's left alone, she gets a wild amount of separation anxiety and doesn't know what to do with herself. She has always hated when we've gone on vacation anywhere and will hide, sometimes not showing herself on any of the indoor cameras for days, slinking around as if she knows where they are and doesn't want to be seen. The parents, when we've been out of town and away from the house and they've had to come feed the cats and take care of the pans, began calling Sadie the "ghost cat" or the "make-believe cat" because they would never see her, ever, even when they looked for her. She'd fuck off and hide somewhere. She does the same thing when we return home from vacation too -- she'll see that yes, it's us and yes we're home, and then she'll go hide somewhere for six hours and will not come out -- to tell us, silently, how angry she is at us for leaving her. 

At least when we're away from the house we always were able to know where Maggie was. Turn on the cameras -- she was either on the couch, eating food in the living room, or drinking water in the kitchen. There were no exceptions to that rule. Pete was about the same, unless he was sleeping under the bed or something, or somewhere right outside the cameras' view. 

Anyway.

Sadie shows her mourning by the fact that she will never be downstairs now unless one of us are down there with her. It's like it scares her to be down there without us now. While she always followed me around anyway (there's a reason I call her "my shadow"), generally when I ended work for the night and went upstairs in the morning, she'd be sleeping next to Maggie on the couch and would rarely, if ever, notice I was gone. When I got up in the afternoons, I'd find her -- most of the time -- in a very similar spot, where it looked like she'd barely moved all day. This has been her pattern since we got Hank. Before Hank, she would almost always come to sleep with me every day. When I would wake up, she'd also get up, stand on the bed next to me, and give me a good-morning kiss. She is a very sweet old girl. After Hank, she generally just slept downstairs most of the time and I joked with Daisy that may have been a silent protest to us bringing a rowdy orange boy into her peaceful space. 

However, after Maggie's passing, Sadie has slept all day with me almost every single day. She has come upstairs with me in the morning (all of them do now, which I also find sort of odd) and if I don't go to bed quickly enough for her liking, she will go in and get her spot between the pillows without me. She does not care that/if the children are being rowdy, she does not care that/if they sleep on the bed with her, and most of the time she does not care even if Pete curls up with her, or me, or both of us during sleeping hours in the daytime -- she very much just seems like she does not want to be downstairs alone more than anything else. 

In the last few months leading up to Maggie's death, she and Sadie got far more cuddly than they'd been in many years. I don't know if Sadie could tell that it was almost time for Maggie to go and she wanted to be loving and protective of her, or if she could just tell that Maggie wasn't feeling well and wanted/needed some extra love, or what. I have photos and videos on my phone from my working hours that show Maggie seeking that love as well -- climbing up onto the couch with Sadie and cuddling in tight and very close, like a blanket over Sadie, and Sadie licking her head and comforting her. Even when they weren't cuddled up tight, Maggie was a constant presence for Sadie, and they would lay together every single day. Sisters.

Those pictures were taken on October 30, 2023.

So yes, for Sadie I am very certain that Maggie being gone is an absolutely noticeable void to her that cannot be filled. She's not really cuddly like that with Pete (well, she can be, but it's not really an everyday thing, since it's sometimes hard for them to get along) and certainly not with Hank, but I have noticed that day by day, she's beginning to bond more with Empress. 

It is a very slow process with lots of observation on both sides. Sadie is cautious, and Emmy is super-curious. She does not go after Sadie or try to play with her/spar with her, but she does get close to her, they eat together, they watch each other. Emmy observes the sweetness and kindness, the comfort I give Sadie, and as cats mold themselves to their environment and learn from other cats and humans, Emmy has in turn become more relaxed, calm, and accepting of love, cuddles, and kisses from us as she settles in. She will follow Sadie around on occasion, and Sadie will follow her around almost as a curiosity. I'm not sure Sadie really knows what to make of this little girl who looks so much like a brown/black, long-haired, miniature version of her with a fairly similar personality. 

Finally,a few nights ago, Emmy got up on the couch and cuddled with Sadie, and Sadie let her do it. Daisy got a photo:

This is a big step for Sadie and I am happy for her and proud of her -- it almost feels like she has now fully accepted Empress into the household and made her part of the tribe. And the fact that she chose Sadie over cuddling with Hank, her lover, speaks volumes about Emmy's intentionality here. Love me, big sister. Your sister died? I'm your sister now. Let's cuddle.

I also think while it's very sweet, it's also going to be tragic eventually. Sadie bonding with Emmy will be healing for her own soul, hopefully, but we already know that Sadie is likely on borrowed time and while there's nothing outwardly wrong with her making her sick right now, she could always take a turn at almost any moment, as she is the same age Maggie was (almost 17). As much as I love Sadie I don't think she'll last the year, which I've said before. She is old, frail, and very thin -- but she is also far more mobile than Maggie ever was, is a voracious eater (and shitter), will run and sometimes even play, and has no present problems with her digestive or urinary tracts that we know of. She's just older and slower than she used to be. And, if she bonds very strongly with Emmy, it's going to be devastating for that little girl when she goes, especially if she goes very suddenly. 

I could be wrong, of course. We always thought Sadie would go before Maggie, and that didn't happen. Sadie may be one of those cats who lives until they're in their twenties, despite all odds and expectations.

But I doubt it.

To those ends, she and Emmy both have vet appointments for the first week of February. It will be Emmy's first appointment, where she gets on the records and gets her shots so we can register her, and for Sadie it will be for her own shots and a general checkup/bloodwork to see where we are in regards to her health and quality of life for here on out. I honestly expect that we'll be told that she's also in kidney failure (she is that age, after all) and that we have a clock running on how long she has left with us. If that's the case, it is what it is. Like Maggie, it's sad but not, and wasn't, completely unexpected. Daisy thinks Sadie could be diabetic, which would explain her weight loss and still-voracious appetite, and truthfully that's possible, but we're going to see. I hold out hope that she's okay and just old.

"Not to be morbid," Daisy asked me last night, "but what if we get Sadie in to the vet and they're like her body is shutting down, she's going to die like they said about Maggie?"

"Then we let her go," I said, with a defeated shrug. "It will suck, it will hurt very much, but it is what it is. We can't stop it or solve for it. And we already know the end is coming for her sooner or later."

I hate thinking about this, but it is true. Sadie has also lived a very long, peaceful life filled with love and safety, with as much food or treats as she ever could have wanted. She has wanted for nothing, has always been my lovey little cuddle girl, and seems very happy and content the vast majority of the time. If and when it is her time to go, it will be her time to go and I have accepted it. I may hate it, but I have accepted it. 

Pete has vet a checkup tonight too. There's nothing wrong with him, but the vets say after a certain age, he should be checked out every six months or so. We're going to inquire about getting him on a different anxiety medication (because oh, does he need it as he gets older, especially with two younger cats in the house and after the death of Maggie), but he's otherwise normal. I think in the week since Maggie passed, he's slowly started to calm down a little and get back to his mostly normal self. He's still anxious, but it does not seem to be as severe as before. He's even letting Emmy bond with him more than before. I'm hoping that means the entire household will be back to "normal" soon enough.

2024 Can Suck It, Part V: Detachment

 I've reached this new stage of grief and coping with everything this afternoon; I call it "detachment."

It's sort of a que cera, cera, whatever will be, will be sort of mindset. There's a lot of stuff that's simply out of my hands, and what isn't and I can control, I've already done what I can about it for the most part. Everything else is just what it is.

Part of this, I think, is me coming down from the stress of dealing with and worrying about the cold and the weather -- now that it's warming up again and that stress has mostly lifted, I didn't realize just how much it was affecting me, and I am now able to compartmentalize it as best as possible. 

Pete has seemed calmer and a little less clingy, though Sadie spent an hour or so in my upstairs office with me today at my feet -- something she's only done very rarely since we bought this house. She still wants to be with us and still seems concerned that Maggie is gone, but it seems to be lessening a little. In fact, she seems to be bonding more with Empress and wants to be around her, and likewise, Empress is very curious about this older, gray girl who seems to have taken an interest in her:

Sadie is what I would call "cautiously intrigued" in the sense that she likes to watch, likes to monitor the little girl, and likes being where she is. She does this with Hank too. I will stress that she and Hank are not friends, but unless he chases her around and tries to hump her (this is an occasional scenario), they kind of each go their own way. Sadie is an incredibly independent cat and has been her whole life.

As time passes I am more at peace with Maggie being gone. I still miss her -- we both do -- but at this juncture we're beginning to accept that her passing was hard, but necessary and inevitable. This evening, we changed the couch blankets -- the one she always slept on, I changed to a blanket that I've been using when I sleep in my lounge chair, so it smells like me. On her side of the couch I placed a large sherpa blanket (the cats love fuzzy, soft blankets) and swapped out Hank's mini-blanket that came from the humane society with him to the one that came with Emmy. We picked up the waterproof mats we had on the floors in the event that Maggie had an accident. It was very sad but also somewhat therapeutic. I just don't want the cats to constantly smell her and be constantly reminded that she's not there.

Emmy immediately jumped up onto the couch on the new blankets and sat there looking at me like a little queen, the little goofball that she is. Sadie watched us very carefully, concerned that something was being visibly changed, before hesitantly getting up onto the new blanket that smells like me. Pete was upstairs sleeping on my ottoman and I didn't let him out until after it was done. Hank is passed out under the bed, where he likes to sleep a fair amount of the time.

It's hard. It's still very hard. 

We can't wash any of the blankets until the washer is fixed. They're being stored in Daisy's closed-up office until that time. The ones Pete peed on are in the garage in a garbage bag for the moment.

Daisy returns to the office tomorrow for the first time in two weeks -- since before the snow and cold hit -- she has been working at home due to her sickness, which she has now mostly recovered from. I still worry about her and urged her to be cautious, to move slowly and see what she could do to make the day as easy as possible. 

2024 Can Suck It, Part IV

 Well, now that trauma is dealt with, let's move forward...

I am really getting very tired of this.

We did get a bit of a warm up earlier this week -- the temperature reached a balmy 25 degrees and lows were not below zero for the first time in a while. Some of the snowdrifts started to melt in the sun. I was ecstatic.

And then, as I mentioned previously, we got a four-hour snowstorm on Thursday afternoon that seemed like it was Mother Nature being like "yeah, no, you're not getting off that easy."

Roads have been terrifying for the past week. After now three snowstorms in a row, and multiple days below zero, the city has been knocked flat. The crews can't keep up, the temperatures are at times too cold to melt ice with salt or brine treatments, and just when they get the roads somewhat clear, another storm dumps a few more inches onto them. 

Next week, however, we're supposed to get a relative heat wave. Today and tonight are supposed to be the last truly cold days for the foreseeable future, and starting Sunday temperatures will rise into the 20s, then the 30s and 40s throughout almost the entirety of the rest of the foreseeable winter -- definitely long enough to thaw and melt most of this off. 

As you're aware, the past several weeks have been simply awful to deal with. I am relieved to report that most of the causes of that stress and terrible feelings have now ended or passed, but with Maggie yesterday...well, they went out with a bang, that's for sure. 

• Work, since returning after the holiday vacation, has been mostly miserable. I have had some truly terrible nights multiple times over the course of the past few weeks.
• Daisy has been sick (more on this below).
• The weather has sucked, and has sucked at the worst possible times for it to choose to suck.
• There was the ordeal with the car, getting the fuel pump replaced, getting the rental, getting the rental returned, canceling Empress's vet appointment, canceling my own doctor's appointments not once but twice because of that and the weather, etc
• And, finally, our sweet Maggie getting sick and crossing over.

Now that we appear to be coming out of the vortex of suck a bit (not completely, but a bit), I can elaborate on some of the things that have occurred over the course of the past few weeks.

First, Daisy's car is fine. We got the fuel pump replaced, and while it still rattles like hell (it's a 15-year-old car that we've driven hard for at least 13 of those years), it is running strongly and smoothly, despite everything. I always wonder when the next major part on it is going to go, but we're being cautiously optimistic. 

Daisy herself is better -- well, I wouldn't say completely better, but very much improved. After what seemed like countless doctor's visits, some of which I went to with her...they can confirm that there's nothing physically wrong with her. This is good on many levels but frustrating on some as well, because now, as the symptoms are starting to fade, we do not know if we'll ever get answers as to what's been plaguing her. I've been of the mindset that it's low-level migraines and "long Covid" for some time, but honestly we may never have answers. The plus side is that she is much, much better than she was, though she does fear that she'll relapse into feeling really bad again, and that fear/stress of that likely isn't helping. 

Well, the stress from everything as of late likely isn't helping.

We still haven't gotten Empress to the vet. In the light of what happened with Maggie we plan to do this during the coming week, and plan to get Sadie in to get her checked out too. Weather and illness has prevented this thus far and now that the weather is clearing up and Daisy is feeling better, we have to catch up on everything that sort of fell to the wayside because we couldn't physically do it before. 

I still haven't gotten my blood draw rescheduled, either. 

This month has been a vortex of suck, as I mentioned, and while we are seemingly coming out of it now, there are still bad things happening.

For one, our washing machine started making a grinding/shuddering and squeaking noise this week. It got particularly bad during a load this afternoon. It's not leaking, and it seems to wash/rinse the clothes  and fill/drain normally, but it is very loud and sounds like it's about to blow a major part. I turned off the water to it and unplugged it from the wall socket once the last load finished, and we've opened a repair ticket to get someone out to look at it this week. It will be the sixth or seventh time (I've lost count now) that we've had someone out to repair or replace major parts on the washer. I will never purchase another Whirlpool product again as long as I live. We don't know when the tech will be out to fix it, as they'll have to call Daisy on Monday to set it up. Luckily, all of our laundry is done at the moment -- but clothing and blankets/sheets/towels pile up very fast in this house. 

Pete is taking Maggie's loss very hard. He has been extremely anxious and clingy with us -- far more so than usual -- and is clearly just very upset and distraught that he can't find her and doesn't know where she is, doesn't know why she's not there on the couch as she always was. I only wish I could explain to him what happened and that she's not coming back, and have him be able to understand it. He was clearly far more bonded to her than I realized. Tonight, he peed on the blankets we'd hung over the  French doors in the living room to keep out the cold and keep the house warmer/pipes from freezing during the long stretch of below-zero temperatures, and it was clear he'd done it more than once in the past 36 hours or so since Maggie has been gone. Daisy looked this up online and it's very common for cats to do this when they experience a loss of a companion. So, we've been giving him all the love possible and he's always been with one or both of us for comfort -- he has not been alone. He has been held like a baby many times, especially while we sleep (he likes very much to sleep on my chest and be held when I'm taking a nap in my chair) and he's been given his favorite treats, spoken to very kindly and sweetly, and treated with so much kindness and patience because we ourselves know what he's been going through.

Of course, we can't wash the things he peed on until the washer is fixed. Daisy is taking those blankets over to the parents' tomorrow to wash. We can't wash anything else he decides to pee on until the washer is fixed either, obviously, without taking them across town as well -- so we have to be very vigilant and patient with him to help calm his anxieties as much as possible.

Sadie is also mourning in her own ways; she does not like to be downstairs alone. Before, she was never alone as Maggie was always on the couch. Now, if we're not downstairs, she's almost always up here somewhere with us, or wants to be under the bed or in Daisy's office where she can hide under the bed there and sleep undisturbed. She has wanted to come in my office a few times and I am always happy to let her in, but she looks around a bit, paces the room, sometimes hisses at Pete and then wants back out. This is how Sadie expresses her own fears and anxieties. Instead of staying downstairs she'll sit at the top of the stairs, sleep in the bed or under it, and as I mentioned, she slept with me yesterday -- all day long, barely moving from her position only when I would change mine -- for the first time in months. Sadie has always been a very independent cat, but Maggie was her sister -- her actual sister -- and they spent a lot of time together, especially near the end. Sadie is smart enough to know that Maggie was slipping away a little more by the day, but likely did not fully understand the concept of death or what was happening because, honestly, none of the cats have ever seen it or dealt with it before.

Of course, it doesn't help that the blankets on the couches, as well as the house in general, all still smell like her. I'm sure they're constantly reminded by scent alone that she's just not there. I also can't wash those until the washer is fixed, and they're not worth taking over to the parents' to wash. I can, however, pull them off the couch and replace them, which I'll likely do tomorrow, just so that we can gently remove as much of her scent as possible. 

Grief is a sad and lonely process, and it takes time. I'm sure they'll be fine, much as we will be eventually. It's just very hard for them right now. Day by day, though.

Hank and Empress have no noticeable symptoms of grief or loss. Emmy only got to spend very limited time and had very little interaction with Maggie before she passed -- a week or two at most -- and Hank would cuddle up with her or be cuddled by her on occasion, but generally speaking, they left each other alone.

Three weeks ago.

This one was taken just a few hours before Maggie's passing. It's the last photo I have of them together. Note Pete in the background watching me.

It's very calming knowing she's at peace now, but we're definitely still grieving and that grief manifests in different ways.

When we came home from the vet without her, Daisy sat down on the couch to call her mother to tell her what had happened. She came back upstairs shortly thereafter to tell me that while she was sitting down there, she could hear Maggie purring -- Maggie always had the loudest, most distinctive purr of all of our cats. None of the other cats were down there with her. She didn't know if it was just her grief or if it was Maggie telling her she was okay and at peace from the other side.

This afternoon, we went over to the parents' for a few hours; Daisy had booked a massage for today, earlier in the week from a place by the parents' house, and Mama had made muffins and lemon curd for us. When we came home, I was rounding the corner to go upstairs when out of the corner of my eye, I could've sworn I saw Maggie on the couch in her usual spot. I stopped dead and looked back and she was gone, because of course she was gone. It shook me to where I had to stop and catch my breath. Daisy, who was at the top of the stairs in the bathroom, had to ask me what was wrong. 

I don't know if it's really her or if we're just seeing and hearing things that aren't there because we're so heartbroken. I generally process grief really well when it comes to people I've lost, other humans -- Maggie was like losing a child, a daughter. She may as well have been human to me, to us.

So, life moves on. All of these things will slowly be dealt with one by one, and finally, hopefully, shit will just stop beating us down for a while.

The Death of Maggie

 Warning: if you did not pay attention to the title, this post involves discussion of a pet's death. So, if that would trigger you, you can skip this one. I'm sure she'll be discussed in future posts here as well, in a not-so-depressing light.

Maggie is gone.

She was born on a farm outside of Kansas City, Missouri, on May 25, 2007 (approximately).

She died very peacefully in Daisy's arms yesterday morning, January 19, 2024, in the vet's office, as both of us sobbed.

She purred up until the very end, knowing that she was safe, secure, and loved.

This is the final photo of our almost-seventeen-year-old baby, taken very shortly before her passing. She appears regal and stoic -- like the queen she was -- though she was purring hard because she was being given so much love. 

Maggie will be communally cremated and her ashes will be spread with those of other lost pets in a beautiful, peaceful park sometime in the spring. She loved being with the other cats so much that being with other animals, in nature, was the most loving and respectful end I could give my little girl. 

For those of you who know about Maggie's struggle already -- and I would assume you do if you've been following me for some time, so I won't bore you with unnecessary details -- I'll stick to the short version. She was diagnosed as being in kidney failure in February 2022. Since then she had been slowly deteriorating month by month. Sometimes she'd have good days or weeks, and other times she'd have bad days or weeks where we thought the end was near, before she bounced back and was normal Maggie again. But, kidney failure in cats is a terminal diagnosis -- there's not much that can be done to minimize it, there's not much that can be done to really treat it, and it marks the beginning of a slow decline.

That decline started almost two years ago. What I have not told you yet is that it rapidly progressed  into its end stages during this week. She stopped eating. She used the pan maybe three times over the course of four days. She was very wobbly and could barely stand or walk, though sometimes she seemed like she could get around okay. She did not want tuna (her favorite food) or even the cat treats that she loves. She just slept a lot, occasionally got up to go to the water bowl and drink some water, and then return to the couch. She liked to lay in a pile with Pete and Sadie, and occasionally would snuggle up with Hank. Emmy, as much as she loves Hank, still tends to wander back upstairs to sleep with Daisy. 

We were planning to take her in on Thursday night and even had an evening appointment set, but we got a four-hour snowstorm on Thursday afternoon that snarled those plans. We re-set the appointment for Friday morning, right after I got off work.

I was personally assuming that we'd do some blood work, see if we could give her an appetite stimulant so she could eat, and then the blood work would tell us how long, approximately, she had left and what signs we should be looking for when we knew it was her time, i.e. when to bring her back in and would not be returning home with her.

Instead, after about ten minutes of initial examination, the vets told us -- to put it as gently as possible -- her life was coming to an end, and quickly. She had a heart murmur, had lost almost half her body weight (which we knew), was severely dehydrated despite the water she constantly drank, she was anemic because her kidneys had almost completely shut down, and she had a body temperature four degrees lower than normal for a cat. She was shutting down, she was dying. 

I did not ask how long she would have lasted had we not brought her in. I did not, and still do not, want to know the answer to that question. 

We were given the different euthanasia options as well as after-death care options (like for her ashes, etc) and we made our choices that I mentioned above. We got taken to the room where it was done, spent some time with her by ourselves loving on her and saying goodbye, and then it was done. 

It was very fast and very painless for her. She left us knowing she was very loved and safe.

And we came home with an empty cat carrier to four remaining, confused, and anxious cats.

I am not okay. I am not even really numb to the reality of it yet. This was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. I've had Maggie for almost seventeen years. To put that into perspective, when I met Daisy, Maggie was already five years old, and had just turned seven when we got married almost a full decade ago. To me it's like losing a child. She was the most loving, most vocal, and most comforting of all of the cats. To have this happen so suddenly, so tragically -- even though we knew it was coming and expected it -- was so very traumatic for me. 

And then I think about Sadie, her sister -- same age, same litter -- who is also rapidly deteriorating in health and likely won't last the rest of the year herself. And then I think about Pete, who is still in very good health despite being older than the girls, but then realize that his time is coming eventually too -- and I get very sad.

I found myself standing in the living room this morning staring at the couch -- the empty couch, where any other time Maggie would have been sleeping there. Her food bowl, her pet stairs, her blankets are all still there. 

I knew it would be hard. I did not know it would be this hard. I am still having trouble processing that she's gone. Some of that is likely due to this just being one more traumatic event in a long string of traumatic events over the past month or so, and my ability to process pain and stress is already at capacity. Some of it is also because this is a new, shocking pain, a different kind of it that I've not had to deal with before.

I don't cry when people die. I cried a lot when Maggie went. 

All four of the cats slept with me today -- Sadie hasn't slept with me in months, yet she wanted to be in bed right up against me today and nobody was going to stop her. Pete has been especially clingy to both of us since we came home alone. Somehow they both sense that she's gone, and actually gone, not just somewhere in another room or someplace they can't see her. Hank and Emmy, with both of them being so young, I don't think her passing affects them the same way. 

And yet, in the morning the sun will rise, life will go on. Animals die every day. Pets die every day and life moves on. I am comforted that Maggie is no longer trapped in her body that was failing her, not knowing or understanding what she was going through and being forced to endure day in, day out. I am comforted by the fact that we loved her so very deeply and that she didn't have to go through it alone; she knew we loved her. 

2024 Can Suck It, Part III: Welcome to Hoth

 

During what has to be the coldest weekend in memory, we've now basically let Emmy out of the bedroom full time. She has bonded with the cats in different ways -- as you can see above, she gets big time "dad vibes" from Pete. She loves to cuddle with him and flop down against his back or belly, and curl up for a nap. Pete, as you can see, is amenable to this -- he will occasionally wrap his paws around her and just incessantly lick her, but sometimes he'll just hold her and teddy-bear her. Sometimes he'll just sleep and she'll cuddle up, just wanting to be close to him. It's really quite cute.

While Pete gives off the dad vibes, she gets "lifelong lover" vibes from Hank. The two of them are almost inseparable now, and at the moment we never have to worry where she is in the house, because wherever Hank is, she will be, and vice versa. It's like love at first sight. Well, not exactly first sight but pretty close. He loves that little girl so very much, and the feeling is mutual. 

Maggie and Sadie give absolutely zero fucks about Empress. They have yet to have anything but a passing reaction or acknowledgment of her. I think they got used to Hank being around and being the goblin that he is, and realized that she's not exactly the same sort of goblin, so they don't care about her in their space. Hell, six months in, Maggie has just now gotten to the point where she will cuddle up with Hank sometimes or lay next to him on the couch. She is not a standoffish cat but she is really not a social one either, so that's a big step for her. I am very curious to see if Emmy tries to cuddle up to the girls like she does the boys, and the reactions that will elicit. 

Tonight is the first full night where we've let her have access to the whole house while we sleep. I'm mostly unconcerned about this because she will likely stay close to the bedroom or sleep with Daisy or Hank or under the bed as per the usual. She has wandered about the house a lot, has explored and looked at or into some things, but she does not appear to be destructive or rambunctious at all like Hank was. She mostly just likes to pick a laying spot and stay there, and that spot is usually in close proximity to Hank. And she likes the upstairs a lot -- the hallway, the bedroom floor, the ottoman, the bed -- she does not at this juncture appear as if she'll be a problem child (which is, I will admit, a very different sentiment than I shared here about a week ago). We're trying to let her personality develop naturally now that she's out and about amongst all the other cats. 

I, personally, look forward to being able to sleep in the bed again. You may ask why I wasn't doing that anyway, and it's partially because Daisy is a furnace, but also because Daisy has been sick and because I have a terrible paranoia that in my deep, tortured sleep, I'm going to roll over on Emmy and squash her little body.

"You won't," Daisy told me. "She will either cuddle up with me and make it very apparent where she is, or she sleeps under the bed."

I will say that when I took a nap in the bed last weekend, she did indeed sleep under the bed -- aside from a very brief few moments where she jumped up on the bed and saw I was laying there -- a preliminary examination of sorts -- before she left again. I don't think she's ever going to be a true "teddy bear kitty" with us like Pete is, where he so forcefully wants to be held and cuddled when sleeping together, but I don't think she'll be completely standoffish either. Daisy remarked today how completely indifferent she seems to be to us humans most of the time, but how fiercely co-dependent she is on the boys for comfort.

"She's still a baby," I said. "She's still getting her bearings, still getting used to everything and everyone and the house as a whole."

I recall how fiercely Hank did not want love from me when he was little, how he saw Daisy as the mother and the source of love and comfort and how he only wanted me to play and roughhouse with him...and now he comes crying to me for love and wants to be held and scratched and rubbed -- how much he loves attention and how much he truly takes comfort in just being with me in my presence. Hank is a very good cat. I can only hope Emmy takes after him.

Anyway.

2024 is the Year of the Dragon. Daisy is a dragon; she was born in a Year of the Dragon, and apparently said year is supposed to be a "bad luck year" for her. I will remind everyone here who's been following along that I met Daisy in the last Year of the Dragon, 2012 -- and we've been together ever since, sooooo...I wouldn't see myself as bad luck for her, but maybe I am (time will tell). 

"Isn't the year of your zodiac supposed to be a good luck year?" I asked her. "If so, it had better get its shit together."

"No," she replied, "it's supposed to be a bad luck year." 

"Oh."

I myself am a Dog. I have another six years to go before my year comes around again. But, I will say that all of the other Dog years weren't necessarily unlucky, but they did involve some big changes in my life (likely very coincidentally).

1994: My mother divorces my horrible former stepfather and we move out on our own to rebuild our lives.

2006: I moved out of my parents' house to the midwest (Missouri, at the time) and my entire life changed.

2018: We bought this house.

So, if any of this is more than coincidence, in 2030 I'll have some huge life changes and we may be moving somewhere else. Six years is likely a fair estimate for that, I'll admit. 

I am glad I don't put any real stock into anything astrological. 

It is -15 outside right now. If the local forecast is to be believed, it'll dip to -21 or so before or around sunrise before it moves back up, slowly, to a -8 high temperature for the day. I am unsure, overall, how all of this works as to how it can keep getting colder and colder with no real changes to any actual environmental factors. It was +1 yesterday when I wrote my last entry here, and even with the sun out and shining brightly, the temperature kept slowly dropping throughout the day. I couldn't understand that, either. 

Yesterday afternoon, we finally found some folks who wanted to make some extra money and they very, very nicely shoveled our driveway and walks. While they were doing so, our neighbor across the street was trying to get out and got stuck, so they went over and dug him out as well. Yeah. We tipped them really well -- it was two kids in a Jeep, with metal shovels and an ice pick, and no other equipment -- out and about, shoveling driveways in below zero cold. They likely deserved far more than we gave them, and we gave them like a 80% tip. 

One of my coworkers is deathly ill with some sort of cold/flu/etc sickness, and was snowed in -- couldn't get out, couldn't get meds to help her feel better -- and Walmart was completely booked through Monday night for deliveries. I went to the local grocery store website, plotted in her address, and had medicines delivered to her. It took eleven hours for the delivery team to bring them to her.

Numerous power outages were reported all over the area tonight, though it appears most of them restored fairly quickly. Any power outage in weather like this is a nightmare scenario.

This is what this cold/weather is like in Omaha right now. Welcome to Hoth. Here's a live look outside:

While I took my nap this afternoon/evening, Daisy went to great trouble to get some heavy blankets and duct tape them over the front and back doors of our house, both of which are drafty and need the door-sweeps replaced on them, to keep out as much of the cold as possible. I noticed an immediate difference when I went downstairs earlier to eat something. If we can keep the house as insulated as possible, we can worry less about the cold and the furnace doesn't have to work as hard. 

This cold has been an unrelenting nightmare and one that will continue for at least the next 48 hours or so before we get above zero again. Most of this coming week we're still looking at single-digit high temperatures and lows around or slightly above zero. If we can make it through these next few days/nights with no major crises happening, we should be fine. 

After all, it could be worse -- one of my friends posted this picture this morning from her home in North Dakota:

Yeah. That's accurate. She wins the contest. It doesn't mean that it being -15 here doesn't still suck, but it could definitely be worse. 

All of this makes me want to see Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire in March just a bit less.

Okay, I'm lying about that. Nothing's going to make me not want to see that movie in a theater on opening weekend with a giant bucket of popcorn.

We kept the tap downstairs running at a trickle and have made sure to run water through the pipes at regular intervals throughout the day and night, with laundry/dishwasher/toilets/showers, etc. So far we've had no issues. I think we'll be fine, but I can never be too cautious when my anxiety levels are as high as they are. 

Oh, have you heard of frost quakes?

This was posted by our local weatherman:

Excuse me, the fuck?

I have lived on this planet for 41 years, in five different states for varying lengths of time, have been to the Great White North of Canada multiple times, and have seen and experienced almost every type of weather known to man -- and I have never heard of a "frost quake" -- nor to my knowledge have I ever experienced one. It sounds absolutely terrifying. 

I'm now convinced this is one of those Mandela Effect things, where in the alternate universes it is a common occurrence and today I just woke up in the weird universe. 

The cold has done some weird things to the house and to us. For one, I'm constantly hot/sweaty now -- I know, the irony -- because the furnace has to run so much. I haven't showered since Thursday (look, anxiety sucks, okay?) and, well, let's just say that I'm breaking in my new KMFDM t-shirt really well before its first wash. I've also barely eaten; I don't have much of an appetite, and while I did have a meal last night, it's been several days since I've had much more than what I would classify as a snack. Interestingly enough, I am still sleeping just fine. I think part of that is the subconscious thought of "the more you sleep, the faster this really anxiety-causing cold snap ends."

Since I've been writing here, it has dropped two more degrees outside.

The animals seem mostly unaffected; Hank has really good ears and is spooked by loud noises, so people plowing the streets or shoveling driveways really set him off and get his attention, and occasionally if there's a particularly hard gust of wind against the house (we got one the other night during the storm hard enough to rattle the walls), the golden girls will look up and look around. But, for the most part, the cats don't have any more of a concept of the weather outside than we do if nobody had told us. They're warm and happy with food and treats, blankets and couches, apparently blissfully unaware of the murderous outdoors.

The cold has, however, changed ever-so-slightly the way the house sits and fits together. The bedroom door barely latches now because the wood has shrunken in the cold, while the door to our utility closet downstairs that always sticks now opens and closes freely. The windows have a thin layer of ice on them in the downstairs of the house, while upstairs they appear normal. Even the internet has been wonky -- we have 5G wireless internet from T-Mobile; it is a little box that sits downstairs on my work desk. I have to hardwire my work computer into it, but everything else in the house runs wirelessly through that box, generally pretty flawlessly (there's a tower a few miles up the street from us). I don't know if the cold is causing power or signal disruptions or not, but the internet has been really slow and sometimes unreliable since these storms and the cold hit. 

With this 5G box, internet outages for us are basically a thing of the past. I can count on one hand how many times it's gone offline for longer than a few minutes, and a reboot of the box almost immediately fixes the issue every time. When I had internet through our local cable provider, Cox, outages were frequent and would last for many hours at a time, usually -- and sometimes they would happen at the most inconvenient times, such as the overnight hours when I was trying to work. I can't believe that it took so long for me to ditch them as a provider. 

In case you haven't been here that long, it was also cold that helped me make that decision -- during the week leading up to Christmas in 2022 we had a very violent cold snap with temperatures well below zero (like they are now) for a few days, and during that time the internet just died, stone-cold dead, for three days or something like that. By the time it came back up, after being given the run-around and vague "we're working on it" excuses by their teams, Daisy and I had already decided to switch to T-Mobile and the box had already arrived on our doorstep. Cox's official reason for outage -- which they relayed to the press -- was "it was cold." 

Yeah, fuck every bit of that, that was my last straw. I canceled/closed my account of 13 years and dumped the equipment at the nearest Cox store about two miles from my house, and never looked back. We now save $600+ per year on our internet and have no noticeable difference in speed, but a definite difference when it comes to the number of outages we have to deal with. 

Finally, as I wrap up this long-winded post that seems like it's been all over the place, I will note that Daisy is returning to the doctor on Monday (the holiday) for a check-in. The appointment is in the mid-afternoon hours and I will likely go to it with her, especially if she's still feeling bad. She's been a lot better over the past few days, but she does not yet appear to be fully out of the woods. I love her and support her (and heavily worry about her) because I just want her to feel better and it doesn't feel like there's much I can do to wave my husband magic wand and make that happen. So, here's hoping.

2024 Can Suck It, Part II

 And then, not to be outdone, there's this shit:

I am already done with winter, folks. I'm done with winter, I'm done with this year, I am already stressed beyond capacity, and this shit is not helping. 

The first storm, that I wrote about in my last post here, was initially not horrifying. It started as rain and big, fluffy flakes that melted as soon as they hit the pavement, and that continued for many, many hours after they expected it to start sticking. When I started work Monday night, there was maybe half an inch that had started to stick, and it looked like it was petering out.

By the time I finished work Tuesday morning, there were a few inches on the ground (maybe 3-4) and my initial thought was "eh, okay, I guess that'll be a good test for the electric snow shovel." I made sure the battery was charged and I went to bed.

When I awoke, it was 5+ inches -- which we found is a little more than the electric snow shovel can efficiently, reasonably handle. 

Look, it works well. It's a fine piece of equipment and will work beautifully when the snow isn't any deeper than, say, 3-4 inches. Anything above that and it's mostly useless. Despite this, I was able to get the driveway and sidewalk up to our porch/mailbox/front door shoveled with it in the span of about an hour -- serviceably so, not perfectly -- but before I'd gotten up that day, the city had already come through and plowed our street, which sealed the driveway closed and buried our sidewalk up to my knees in thick, heavy snow and solid ice. I broke out the hand shovel and was able to clear the end of the driveway with it, but that was the extent of my energy. It wasn't until the next day we were able to clear the walks.

"I can't do this again," I told Daisy, "for this next storm that's coming in. It's going to be below zero for days on end and -40 wind chills and I simply can't be out there for hours in that trying to fight it. I value my life more than any fine we'd get from the city for not shoveling. We will be hiring someone to come clear the driveway and walks."

Daisy mostly agreed, but wanted to wait and see how big this next storm was going to be before we called someone for snow removal. 

On Thursday night, the next storm came -- along with high winds and brutally cold temperatures. As I write this on Saturday morning, it is currently -4. To put this into perspective, it is 25 in Nova Scotia where the family is, and it is 56 right now in North Carolina where my parents are. Fuck Nebraska. Fuck Nebraska and fuck winter. 

Negative temperatures in the winter in the midwest are nothing new, especially in Omaha; there are usually 4-5 days a year, usually in January or February, where the high temperature is around zero and lows are well below zero. It is somewhat of a rarity, however, when the high temperatures are well below zero and the low temperatures are far below zero.

The low temperature tonight is supposed to be -21. 

The high temperature tomorrow is supposed to be -9.

The high temperature on Monday is supposed to be -2.

Omaha is not supposed to be above freezing (32 degrees) again until January 22. 

I told Daisy that I don't know how people can live like this -- where in the summer the temperatures can reach 110 or 115 some days during heat waves, and in the winter the temperatures can be -20 or below. I also told her last night, as I am rapidly reaching the stages of a nervous breakdown due to many factors, that I can't do this anymore -- we have to find a way out, we have to find a way to move somewhere that it's (on average) 70 degrees all the time, because I can't live like this anymore. I can't sweat myself to death in the summer and worry about severe storms and tornadoes taking out the house, and I can't continually worry about not being able to keep the house warm enough to where the pipes don't freeze every winter and deal with feet upon feet of snow on top of that. I am not young anymore, I am no longer in perfect health and this is my breaking point. I can, simply, no longer deal. Getting us out of Omaha has to be made into a priority.

Anyway. I'm getting ahead of myself.

On Thursday night, the second storm rolled in. This storm was predicted to give us double what Monday night's storm gave us, though it was supposed to be a lighter, more powdery snow. Coupled with the high winds, the weather people predicted a lot of blowing and drifting, so getting accurate snow totals would be difficult. I'd already canceled my blood draw appointment (for a second time) earlier in the week and was not planning to venture outdoors at all, nor was Daisy.

Well, for once the forecasters were spot on. We did get 6-9 inches -- we likely got about 10. This fell on top of everything already out there on the roads, lawns, structures and vehicles. It crippled businesses and traffic. Roads were closed, most businesses were closed, grocery stores were closing. Daisy's job told everyone who could to work from home. The temperatures were single digits all day Friday with high winds, creating massive snowdrifts and blizzard conditions throughout the land. We were and still are stuck inside, where we expect to remain for the next several days. 

Our street has not yet been plowed. Until our street is plowed, there's no point in calling someone to clear the driveway and walks. Main streets (we live about 500 feet from one of the biggest thoroughfares in Omaha) look terrible even now, with the few people driving on them driving very slowly. 

Because of my concerns about the pipes freezing in the cold, I have been making sure water continually flows through them at regular intervals -- including doing laundry, running the sinks, flushing the toilets, etc. Because of the way our house is built (strangely), we did not know where the main water shutoff valve was for the house in the event that the pipes do start to freeze -- with the help of the husband of one of Daisy's coworkers (who is a plumber) and some pictures from Daisy's phone, he was able to identify where our shutoff valve is -- it is a knob under the stairs in the center of the downstairs of the house. It is well-insulated and warm under the stairs where the water comes into the house, so that gives me a lot of calm for my fears. I've still made sure to keep water flowing in and out of the house at normal intervals with the laundry, sinks, toilets, and everything else. But, with it already -4 right now and the temperature possibly dropping close to another twenty degrees before this is all over and it starts to warm up a little more outside again, my anxieties are not completely gone. 

If it gets down into the -20s it will be the worst cold I've ever lived through in my life. -20 degrees was my "record" before -- it got to -20 when I was a teenager in high school in West Virginia, living on top of the mountain, during a particularly bad winter there in the early 2000s. My parents' pipes didn't freeze then, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a very nasty, awful experience while it remained that cold. The coldest it's ever been in Omaha since I've been living here was -18, a year or two ago, during this same time of year. That was also miserable and I was deathly afraid of the pipes freezing then, too.

Our friend the plumber gave us some advice, and Daisy immediately took it -- he said to turn up the heat in the house, even if it was uncomfortable. We generally keep our thermostat at 68 and only deviate from that by a few degrees depending on the time of year. In the summer we'll set it to 66 when it's crazy hot outside, just to keep the AC running enough to keep us cool. In normal winters, where temperatures below zero are a rarity, it is also a rarity that we set above 70 degrees. Our friend the plumber told Daisy to turn it up to 75.

75 would make the soul leave Daisy's body due to sweat. She put it on 73 and we already notice a big difference in the warmth levels in the house, especially in the upstairs, because heat rises.

So what are we going to do? 

I don't know.

Daisy is still sick -- I have not written about it much here but she's basically been sick since well before Christmas, off and on. She's much better than she has been, but is still nowhere near 100%. She mentioned that she may want to try to get in to see the doctor again on Monday (presumably if she's still feeling bad), and I am not sure if at this juncture she's playing that by ear or what. Monday is a holiday, it's Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and she has the day off. I do not -- my next non-weekend day off will either be the Super Bowl (depending on whether I feel the need to take it off) or the KMFDM concert in March, which I've already put in the PTO for. 

We also have not yet called around or found anyone to plow out our driveway and walks, primarily because (as mentioned) our street has not yet been plowed. So we couldn't get out of the house if we wanted to, not that we'd want to with this horrific cold. Daisy mentioned that she might make chili today -- it is certainly the weather for it -- but aside from that we have no plans but "survive and try to keep the pipes from freezing, and hopefully the furnace doesn't die and/or the power doesn't go out."

Empress was given full reign of the house for a few hours last night. We're very close to the point where she can just be out in the house full time, but we're not completely there yet. She likes to explore, but doesn't really get into anything (well, at least not yet), and Hank follows her around like her protector. They play together a lot, and it is very clear that Hank loves this little cat. Loves as in romantic, we're going to be together forever love. He always has eyes on her when he can, he will lay with her or next to her and cuddle with her, and I think he's sort of training her on what we're like and what the house is like. During this past week, Hank has been so distraught when Daisy goes to bed and she's closed up in the room with her. They'll sit on opposite sides of the door and cry for one another, much to Daisy's chagrin. One night last week I called Hank back downstairs so he would come and sleep next to me while I was working, and I heard him mewing all the way back down the stairs to the bottom. When he came into the room, he was holding a toy in his mouth. He loves that little cat so much that he brought her a toy to play with and was so devastated when he couldn't give it to her. 

Emmy (which is what we call her most of the time) is, in turn, slowly developing her own personality. She is very loving and likes being with us, but generally only on her own terms. She is inquisitive and playful, but also likes to flop down and sleep like a rock for hours at a time generally out of nowhere. She is not really a biter or a clawer with us, she loves her toys, and sometimes she can be really hyper. In general, she's a kitten and a baby. Daisy does not think she's particularly smart and has said so. I am personally of the opinion that she is still very much a baby and her intelligence will grow as she does -- she just doesn't have the forceful personality that Hank did from the beginning.

Emmy is also aware of the golden girls -- Maggie and Sadie -- and they are aware of her, they've interacted, etc -- but generally neither of them give a single shit that Emmy exists. This was to be expected after Hank, honestly. Emmy jumped out of my arms and down onto Maggie's back on the couch the other night, and Maggie just looked at her like "oh, hi little cat." No agitation, no growling or hissing, nothing. 

Sadie has mostly been standoffish and aloof, and has been getting beaten up a lot recently by the older cats -- Pete or Maggie will go after her for almost no reason whatsoever at random times. We think part of it is because Sadie has "cat acne" on her chin -- basically pimples that crack open and bleed -- and we've been treating it with medicated pads specifically for it (Pete has it too, but his is now almost completely healed) and she smells like blood because of this. Maybe. We don't really know. She's been taking a lot more comfort in time with me and Daisy as of late, sitting/laying with us and just generally wanting to be near us. She has deteriorated and aged so much in the past two years or so, and I really don't think she has long left. I think she's a wonderful little girl and always has been, but when it's her time it's her time. I will be very sad but it will not be unexpected.

We're going to continue letting Emmy have the full run of the house for longer and longer stretches, though for the time being I've insisted to Daisy that she needs to be closed in the bedroom in the overnights still, especially on nights I'm not working and not awake/downstairs during the overnight hours. Sooner rather than later she'll just be out and about full time, once she gets the lay of the land, and we'll have the bedroom back to share with all of the other cats, not just her. I'm sure Pete will be thrilled to sleep in the bed with me again -- aside from a nap or two, I have not slept in the bedroom since we got Emmy primarily because Pete wants to sleep with me and will throw a fit if he can't, and because Daisy has been sick. Instead, I've slept in my chair in my office, and Pete has slept with me either on my chest or on the ottoman at my feet. It's been far from ideal, primarily because Pete wants to go in and out a lot, but it's been livable. 

Daisy has let me know -- now that she's gotten up for the day -- that she'll be calling around and getting on a list for some company for our driveway and walks to be plowed out/cleaned off. Pete is in here with me now, sleeping on the aforementioned ottoman, it is warm in the house, the pipes/water flow in and out of the house seem fine at the moment, and it is finally above zero -- it is one degree at the moment. 

I am thankful and grateful for the little things that make life worth living, but sometimes my anxiety and fear/paranoia overrule a lot of that, and it is very hard for me to control or to put into perspective for someone who doesn't live inside my own mind. I am drowning in anxiety for things that are outside of my control -- I cannot control the weather or the temperatures. I cannot control whether the power is going to go out or if the furnace is going to blow up. I cannot make Daisy be no longer sick. It's these things that give me the anxiety, it's these things that make me spiral. If something is within my control, I have zero anxiety or fears about it. 

Earlier this morning I was thinking "what if I just took sleep meds and just slept from now until basically Tuesday when it's supposed to be warmer?" Legit just hitting the power button on my body and brain and letting both rest for three days, getting up only long enough to eat when necessary and use the bathroom, etc. Doesn't that just sound heavenly?

But I can't. There's still my job, there's still responsibilities and chores that need to be done, and Daisy is still sick. And, if the worst-case scenario of the pipes freezing, or if we lose power and/or the furnace dies all happen during my unconsciousness, I wouldn't be in the proper state of mind or body to deal with it. 

2024 Can Suck It, Part I

 Hi all.

2024 has been shaping up to be one of those years where the hits just keep on coming, one after another. I am not a fan of this year's horseshit thus far.

Since Thursday, all of the above has happened:

1. Daisy's car died on the expressway mid-drive, on the way home to pick up me and Emmy for Emmy's first vet appointment. The fuel gauge was off and she ran out of gas, which blew the fuel pump. $600 for parts and labor and $200-something for a rental car in the interim, we now have the car back and it's fine.
   
   
2. Emmy's vet appointment had to be canceled because of this and has not yet been rescheduled.
   
   
3. My blood draw appointment for Friday morning had to be canceled because of this and was rescheduled for this coming Friday.
   
   
4. This shit:
   
   
   
   
   
   

I'm really already done with 2024 and I want a redo/refund of the past week, please. It is not living up to the expectations that were set forth in the contract. 

Truthfully, there's a lot of other stuff going on too that I'm not going to talk about for the sake of privacy, but also because I'm just so worn out and worn down already that I don't want spend any more mental capacity on it at the moment. I've barely been sleeping, my caffeine consumption levels -- you know, the thing that I've been trying to wean myself off of as much as possible for the past year or so -- are at near record highs because I have to compensate because nothing ever stops, a lot of bills are coming due in the next few days, and then there's the aforementioned snowstorm above. I am so tired, everyone. Everything's getting backed up, rescheduled, or put on hold because of the snow and because of everything else currently happening (read: the stuff I'm not writing about here). 

We've now had Empress for a week and a half. She is mostly confined to our bedroom, where -- much like we did with Hank -- she has her own food and water, her own litter pan, and her own toys. We let the boys in to interact with her for short (or sometimes long) periods of time. She and Hank delight in playing together, though I still think he's a little too rough with her sometimes. Pete sees her as a cuddler and a little lovey baby he can lick and be sweet with, but she's also a nuisance to him because she likes to pounce on him and bat at his tail. She's nowhere near the nuisance to him that Hank was, though, so there's that. 

The Empress and Her Father, Part IV: The Wild Child

 

There's a t-shirt I own with a picture of a mischievous raccoon on it, and it says "don't be part of the problem, be the whole problem."

This cat is going to be the whole problem. 

Empress is the single most beautiful long haired cat I have ever seen. She may be the most beautiful cat I've ever seen, period. She is everything I wanted in a little girl and everything I wanted in the cat that would bear her name. With that comes a lot of issues, though, and we're seeing them arise already -- four days into our parenthood of this little gremlin. 

I'll start from the beginning, though, and that is she appears fine -- when I awoke yesterday morning I went to the bathroom to check on her, to find that she had not vomited again and she had, apparently, used the pan. She was desperate for love and cuddles, and was so very happy I was there with her to pick her up, hold her, and love her. She'd drank almost all of her water and had eaten most of the dry kitten food I'd put in there with her, too. Stage one of the bathroom sequestration had been a success. 

Now that was fine, and now that we were moderately confident that she wasn't actually sick, just coming off the surgery meds -- we were ready to start the slow process of introduction to the other cats, starting with the boys. 

Pete I was not concerned about -- he was very excited to see her and I know part of that was because of the bonding he'd done with Hank when Hank was just a tiny little orange thing and not the tank of a cat he has since become. Hank was going to be the issue, what with the growling and hissing. 

As mentioned here before, Pete is a pretty relaxed cat in his old age. He's the most active and most normal of the older cats, and by far the healthiest, but his wild demon days are long behind him now. He now mostly just wants love and cuddles, treats and food, and to be allowed to sleep peacefully wherever he chooses. Hank was a playmate for him, and still is to an extent, but as Hank has gotten older and much larger, he's also greatly matured and does not generally go hard with Pete anymore. They still play, they still cuddle and lick each other sometimes, but most of the time now they simply coexist and that's about it. Hank now listens to Pete and takes the hint when Pete does not want to be bothered the vast majority of the time, and I don't expect that to change.

Don't get me wrong, Hank is still sometimes hyper and still tears ass around the house a few times a week, but most of the time he's just content to be with us and the other cats and is a happy little boy.

When we formally introduced Empress to Pete, she was so excited to see this big black cat that was easily three times her size. She rubbed all over him, she flopped against him, she just wanted to touch him and love him and be a little cuddler with him. Pete seemed mostly content about this -- he was used to it from Hank -- and only occasionally hissed a little if she went after his tail too hard, or pounced on his back in the wrong place, even though he knew she was just playing. She was just thrilled to be there with him and make a new friend. Pete made sure her asshole was clean (he apparently has a thing about that) and just wanted her to settle so he could wrap his paws around her and lick her, but she was too excited to let him do that for long. It was simply adorable to see them interact. I did not think Pete would be a problem, but I knew that he could be. After seeing them interact I think he'll be fine -- Emmy is a lover, not a fighter. Hank is the scrapper of the household.

We let them interact a few times -- first in the bedroom and later again in my office upstairs. These were short intervals of time, maybe 5-10 minute stretches at most -- just to let Pete get used to her and to let their scents mingle. It was very clear during these interactions that Pete did not see her as a threat and seemed to recognize that she was a baby, and a sweet one at that. Pete is patient anyway; he was so patient and kind with Hank even when Hank was going hard on him over those first few weeks and months. Pete could have stomped Hank into the ground if he'd wanted to, to teach him a lesson, but he did not. He is a much kinder, gentler soul in his older years than he was in his younger ones.

I spent much of the weekend, however, very concerned about Hank and what he would do. Hank is loving and can be so very sweet, but he is also territorial and is intensely, fiercely defensive sometimes of both himself and whatever territory he's staked a claim on -- namely me and Daisy. When Daisy and I were in my office, door open, with Pete and Hank, any time Empress made a noise from the bathroom, Hank would growl softly and run to the bathroom door with his belly on the ground, and would growl and hiss -- not terribly but enough to where she could hear it -- and he would put his nose right out of the reach of her paws from under the door, trying to get her scent.

When we finally introduced him to her, he growled and hissed loudly and backed up, began to corner himself. I told Daisy to not let her corner him because that wouldn't go well, but before I could finish my sentence, Emmy marched right up to Hank (she has zero fear) and smelled him. He smelled her. She sniffed all around his face, and then licked his nose. The growling and hissing immediately stopped.

Hank was not angry at her existence, he was scared of her. Hank the Tank, our twelve-pound short-legged husky chonk of a boy, was scared of the 2.6 pound ball of fluff with huge eyes.

Emmy had introduced herself to him. Come here you big orange fuck, we're gonna be friends.

Since then they've been great together. Hank now has a new playmate with a wild amount of energy and Emmy is thrilled to have someone to chase around and play with, bat at, pounce on, etc. 

It's wild to see the differences between these two cats. I think Emmy has grown in size a bit in just the short few days we've had her, but I don't know that she's on track to become a giant cat overall. Time will tell, of course. She does eat like a hog (to the point where I was curious as to whether they actually really fed her in the humane society -- that cat puts down dry kitten food like she's at an eating contest). Hank we did not think was going to become as much of a brick shithouse of a cat that he is, all bulk and muscle -- we knew he'd be big, but his size and weight has already exceeded our expectations and he's still got growing to do. He's not fat. He is a dense cat. 

Empress, under her fur, is a tiny little thing. But she has long legs and she is a jumper. We never had to worry about Hank jumping up on counters or tables or any of that because, well, his legs are too short and he never expressed any sort of desire to jump or climb anything. Emmy will be a jumper and climber. We've already seen it. By herself she has already found her way to the top of the cat tree and has already started trying to sharpen her claws on any piece of furniture she can find. She is also the cat that goes into Wild Child mode at 3am, as evidenced by me hearing her, last night, tearing ass back and forth across the bedroom playing with her toys, jumping on and off things, and generally being a menace.

Daisy, by the way, slept through all of this, in the same room. I heard it from downstairs at my work desk.

We will have to begin introducing her to the house very slowly, in monitored brief outings, to see how she reacts to the boys outside the confines of the bedroom -- not to mention how she reacts to a house that is far, far larger than the little rooms she's been kept in so far, with thousands of things to get into and under and explore. Part of this will also be gauging how she reacts to the Golden Girls (as I call Maggie and Sadie) and how they react to her, too. I don't think they'll be a problem for each other but I also have been wrong about which cats I thought would be the problem, twice. It's all a process. 

I expect the slow introductions to the outside world of our house to start this weekend, after she's had her first vet visit. For now, she's quite comfortable being in our bedroom most of the time. When I've gone in there to check on her she's almost always flopped out on the floor under the bed, where she seems to be very content and happy to sleep like a rock. She is well-taken-care-of, as she always has food, water, toys and clean litter, and she gets so much love from us. 

The Empress and Her Father, Part III

 

My little bobcat.

I touched on this previously, but this little girl has had a pretty hard and traumatic life for only being nine weeks old. Honestly, both Daisy and I sort of arch our eyebrows at the "nine weeks" number. She's so tiny and the math doesn't add up -- she seems more like she's about seven weeks old, not nine.

The scant amount of information we have about her says that she was part of a litter of kittens brought in as strays all at once. They were playing in and around busy streets and in a neighborhood where they were in danger of being attacked by loose dogs or hit by cars, so they were gathered up and brought to the shelter around the middle of December. From there she was fostered for a short time, spayed, and put up for adoption. We have no further info on her than that. We don't even know what streets or what part of town. She was in a kennel with what is assumed to be one of her brothers (who looks nothing like her, but cats can have different fathers, even in the same litter):

And that little boy was also adopted later in the day after Daisy adopted Empress. 

She is at least partially, if not completely litter trained (I'll get to this), knows how to eat dry food and drink water normally, and for all intents and purposes seems to be a perfectly fine, healthy little kitten. Her paperwork has a very short list of medications she was given -- likely part of her anti-parasite and spaying treatment -- as well as treatment for fleas/ticks etc. Her incision from where she was fixed is healing normally. 

The joke I made above about "my little bobcat" is primarily because of her looks but also because this cat is a god damned nut. I've seen her leap 18 inches straight up into the air, and take a flying jump off the bed onto the second level of Hank's cat tree. I've heard her growl like a beast and hiss like a snake. She runs lightning fast, faster than Mr. Short Legs ever could (and I thought he was fast) and she is absolutely going to be the cat that climbs the curtains, gets on every counter, finds every possible hiding spot and gets into everything.

We never had to worry about most of that with Hank. He's built like a brick shithouse and he is thick. He's large, heavy, and with his short legs he doesn't really have the ability to jump/climb. Emmy is light as a feather and is already wildly active and playful. Her personality is so different than Hank's was in so many regards. She is going to be a handful. She already is a handful.

So, last night we made sure she had food, water, and litter, and closed her up in the bedroom while we went over to the parents' to spend time with Daisy's sister and her boys. Empress seemed fine -- she was playful and we made sure we gave her lots of love and cuddle time and she seemed happy. Our goal was to try to wear her out a bit before we went over there so that she'd mostly just sleep while we were gone. In the event that she vomited again, we put the mattress cover on the bed and spread out my big green fuzzy blanket over it (you can see this in the top photo). 

When we returned home, we saw that she'd vomited on the floor next to the pan and it was not just water this time, but had some food in it, and that she had shit on the bed in three places -- small piles of diarrhea and then a giant turd that I have no idea how she was able to keep inside her little body. There was more poop on the puppy pad we'd put down too. 

Physically she seemed fine, and was super happy and playful when we got home, but the continued vomiting and the poop outside the pan was a cause for concern for us. As we cleaned it up and put the blankets on to wash, Daisy and I decided that it would be best to clean out the upstairs bathroom and to put her in there, with food and water and a clean pan -- to see if she had any more issues. I held her and cuddled her in my office for close to an hour while Daisy, super-tired and already feeling nauseous, readied the bathroom to hold this little cat for the night.

We devised a plan -- she'd stay in there, with her food and water and clean litter, until she'd gone 24 hours without vomiting or eliminating outside the box. If she kept doing one or both we'd try to get her into the vet sooner than Thursday, her first scheduled appointment, and if it got bad we would have no choice but to take her to the same emergency vet we took Hank to when he was having his breathing troubles. Obviously with the New Year holiday a day away neither prospect was something we wanted to do, not only because of the inconvenience but the money involved -- but I will never neglect one of my babies when they're sick and especially not the one that I've wanted in my life for many years and finally had. 

Daisy did some research -- as mentioned, it's not uncommon for cats to vomit a few times after their spay/neuter, especially if they're young and female, until all of the anesthesia wears off. This can take several days or even a week in some cases. She'd been spayed the day before we got her, so I wasn't wildly concerned. The eliminating outside the pan was more concerning to me -- was she too young to have really been litter trained? I mean, she pees in the pan, we've seen it, so she knows how to use it. Was she just sick and couldn't get to the pan in time? 

Daisy's further research said that as long as there wasn't blood in the stool or vomit, then she was very likely fine and was just recovering from the surgery and the drugs' effects were finally wearing off. This is part of why we wanted to quarantine her in the bathroom -- if it wasn't just that, if she was sick with something else, we don't want her to give it to the other cats (though in his house, that would likely be nearly impossible not to). We also didn't want to keep washing and rewashing the blankets and sheets, or have her have diarrhea underneath our impossible-to-move new bed and adjustable frame. It was a hard decision to keep her in there -- in a much smaller room, in the dark, with the cabinets lashed shut and towels/blankets on the floor for her, but we really didn't have much of a choice and we don't have anywhere else to put her. 

She did not like this. Her angry and somewhat panicked mews tugged at my heart with every cry. I felt so bad for her. She did, eventually, settle down and sleep, as did I later in the night with Pete on my chest. Hank continually sat sentinel outside the bathroom door, smelling at her and occasionally growling, but later just curled up in front of the door as if he were guarding her. 

The golden girls downstairs are, I'm sure, well aware that there's another cat in the house. It's kind of hard to ignore the loud mews, and I know they hear her. Sadie at least has seen her, very briefly, hissed a little, and ran off -- but Maggie as always gives zero fucks, and does not give a single shit about our new family addition.

So that's what we did. We kept her in the bathroom and she's still in there now, with the hopes that she'll be okay and not present any further signs of illness or distress. As sleep-deprived and stressed as we both are at this point, we'll enter the new year with a kitten in our bathroom, a much larger and older kitten who growls and hisses any time he smells her or sees her, and (hopefully) a much more unified household in the coming days once everything settles.