daily dose of dogs (aka cats with your coffee)

HAPPY HALLOWEEN (and an Announcement)

My blog has changed SO much over the course of this year and a half.  When I started, my cathouse was one room and really small.  That first year of blogging brought new friends and support like I’d never had before in my entire life.  We built our "second" cathouse, or rather added a room on.  You sent your prayers, your Light, your money.  You had commentathons and auctions for us.  You came through in really rough times (like during the Fantastic Fifteen), and you bought bricks.  And thankfully, there were adoptions!  No way could I have predicted that our tiny little operation could expand because of a blog.  But it did.  And the flavor of that blog began to change with the expansion.

So whereas during the first year, I told rescue stories from my past, now I tell the stories that play out in real time.  The first year, I added seasons and holidays and flowers and trees in and around the stories.  More recently, I’ve focused on fundraisers and adoptions, descriptions of cats and kittens who need homes, and the variety of needy ones we end up fostering because of Older Daughter’s employment at a shelter.  I guess I’ve focused less on the seasons and the holidays and the crazy antics of my own crew and more on the serious business of ongoing private rescue. 

Today, I want to post pictures of Halloween-ish things.  A day of fun.  And before I end this post, I’ll give you some news.  BIG news.

Now, just for fun, here are some Halloween pictures!

           What better way to start than with three black cats - Hansel, Samuel, and Stormy.



         Younger Daughter's Magic.  You can read his VERY Halloweenish story here.


   Younger Daughter's Stormy.

                                                                                        Hansel.


  Samuel.

I want to showcase these jack-o-lantern gourds for a special reason.  Younger Daughter grows, harvests, dries, and crafts gourds.  All of her creations are beautiful.  I just love the faces on these guys.



This jack-o-lantern carved itself.  I wrote about it last year.  You can read that story by clicking here.



Now.  In order to bring you my good news, I’ll invite you to play a couple of games.  First, click here. 

A post about how having FIVE kitties is simply FABULOUS.  You probably haven’t guessed yet at this point.

So now click here. 

You traveled to my post of almost exactly one year ago.                  

Why draw your attention to the Fabulous idea of having FIVE kitties?   And why send you back one year exactly, to the post that kicked off our Winnie’s Wish adoptions?  Because history is repeating itself.  Right here, right now.  Remember when I put out the word that we needed a portion of a transport route filled?  Well that route was to take a Winnie’s Wish kitty from OUR cathouse all the way to a new home in Canada.  That home?

Cat’s Cats.  Almost a year to the day, Cat and I are announcing, right on the heels of Ash/Jimmy’s Gotcha Day Celebration, that another Winnie’s Wish kitty gets to live with Cat.  Cat has decided to Fulfill the Fabulous Foundation of Five kitties.  Her chosen Fifth kitty?

Drumroll . . . .       BAGHEERA!!!


Of course, I couldn’t be happier.  The transport day is set for this Saturday, November 5.  A ten-hour round-trip for me.  A ten-hour round-trip for Jeanne (Random Felines).  And a sixteen-hour round-trip for Cat and Robert.  All so that Bagheera can join Cat’s Cats.  Bet you can guess where I’ll send you next.  Click here.

Happy Halloween! 

Another Gabriel

Today, I had planned to do another brick story.  However, three new babies have come into our lives. On Wednesday morning, a good samaritan brought in a tiny kitten to the shelter where Older Daughter works.  This person said the kitten was in the middle of the street she was traveling.  The shelter is still overrun with kittens, but this one was accepted due to its very debilitated condition.  Older Daughter did what she could for the little thing throughout the day.  A new employee there said she would take the kitten home that night to force-feed.  Older Daughter got a text message on her way home from work.  Just after the shelter closed, somebody brought in another kitten - same street, same condition.  When Older Daughter got to work yesterday, the kittens hadn’t actually gone home with this employee.  Evidently, they were doing a little better, especially since they now had each other to cuddle up with.

Yesterday was Thursday.  Our weather changed Wednesday overnight to rain and much colder.  Very late in the day, just before closing, a man walked into the shelter with a box.  What was inside?  ANOTHER kitten.  Found in the same street.  Only this one had been outside in the elements Wednesday night and all day yesterday.  This one wouldn’t make it.  Older Daughter calls when she is heading home so that we know when to expect her.  She called later than usual yesterday.  She said - Sorry I’m gonna be late.  But I was trying to save a kitten.   She explained about the third kitten coming in and that it was so close to death she just went in the back and held it so that it wouldn’t die alone. 

It wasn’t moving.  Eyes matted shut.  Covered in fleas.  Full-blown URI.  This was the same condition the other two were in.  But this one was ice cold.  The gums were white.  And for some reason, the inside of its mouth was packed with mud.  Older Daughter had cleaned out the mouth immediately, but it made no difference.  This little baby was already in a coma-like state.  It brought back memories of little Gabriel.  As Older Daughter sat there holding this lifeless baby, she remembered what we had done with Gabriel.  We had dripped sugar water into his mouth.  She wrapped the kitten in the newly warmed towels from the microwave and jumped into her car.  That’s when she called home.  I’m pretty sure this kitten won’t live, but I’m bringing her home.  She is in my lap now.  She said she remembered that the sugar water had revived Gabriel.  I launched into action.  Yes.  We would try sugar water.  And Older Daughter said this kitten simply was NOT getting warmer.  I would set up a heating pad in the downstairs bathroom.  I told myself that we probably wouldn’t get this kitten back from the dead, but we would give it our best shot.  I tried to prepare myself for what was more likely to happen.

We gave sugar water.  She started trying to lap at it.  She wanted to nurse.  Older Daughter prepared the porridge consistency canned food and water mixture.  We got a couple of cc's into the baby.  We put her in the small crate on a soft piece of fleece over the heating pad.  We ate our dinner and checked on her.  A little more forced food.  She was starting to move around.  She could hardly breathe through her nose.  If she wasn’t going to die, she needed so many things.  Antihistamine.  Antibiotic.  Eye drops. 

Older Daughter and I decided that to give her the best chance for survival now that it looked like she might not slip away, we would need to make a trip to the shelter to pick up medications.  While we were there, we might as well grab the other two kittens from this street litter and bring them home for extra care.  Maybe having her siblings here would provide a little motivation to our coma baby.  We jumped in my vehicle for the half hour trip to town. 

We got our supplies, loaded up two very sick little kittens, and drove to the other side of town to check out that street where the three had been found.  We did not find any more kittens.  We headed home.

All received medications.  The first two are eating and drinking some on their own, but are still very sick.  The third, however, stopped letting us force-feed.  We were still having trouble keeping her warm.  When I checked on them one last time late last night, our coma baby was curled up on her heating pad.  I hoped for a miracle.

I checked once in the middle of the night.  Still breathing, but not moving.  Maybe a little warmer.  I had a fitful night, and woke up long before the alarm was due to go off.  I stared at the ceiling in my bedroom and feared the worst.  I really didn’t want to go downstairs and find that little angel gone or struggling to take her last few breaths.  I made myself get up and go down.  I cracked open the bathroom door.  The first two were curled into a tight ball of kittenness - as close to each other as they could get and sound asleep.  From inside the crate with the heating pad, I heard a faint cry.  My little angel's eyes were open. 

                                                                     The coma baby, this morning.

                                          The siblings, last night when we first got them home.

As always, I know not to get my hopes up.  Keep these babies in your thoughts this weekend.  We'll do our best to bring them to health.  And love them every minute they are here!

 

Tomorrow is a certain kitty’s Gotcha Day.  Take a quick peek into my sidebar and scroll down to a little gray kitty named Ash.  Ash got gotcha’d by Cat of Cat’s Cats and was renamed Jimmy.  Ash was our VERY FIRST kitty to be adopted from our then-brand-new Winnie’s Wish campaign.  Cat will be posting Jimmy’s Gotcha Day on Sunday.  It’s a celebration for Cat and her gang, but it’s a celebration for us, too.  One year ago, our first Winnie’s Wish kitty went to a wonderful home.  I pushed hard to have TWENTY kitties placed by the one year mark.  It didn’t happen, but it’s still definitely worth celebrating that FIFTEEN kitties HAVE been placed.  Cat jumpstarted the whole thing a year ago by adopting her Jimmy.  I hope you visit her blog (always in my Blogroll) on Sunday and share in the celebration.

(And if the celebration gives you the fever, come back over to the daily dose and pick out a new addition for your own family.  I’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating - we have some of the best kitties EVER for adoption right now.)  

Random Felines

I’m not sure anyone would have noticed this, but I’m going to talk about it anyway.  If you look back over the pictures of all of the bricks so far, you’ll notice a commonality.  They ALL have the same background - the liner in the back of my husband’s truck.  That’s where the big delivery truck loaded our order - into the back of our truck.  That's where I took all of the pictures.  So as I was getting the post ready for the Random Felines brick, I looked through my photos and discovered something that made me crazy.  No picture.  I couldn’t believe it.  I knew they had not forgotten to send that brick because I remembered placing it in the Walkway.  I looked through my photos again.  Nope.  Not there.  So of all the bricks that were ordered on this First-Ever Brick Fundraiser, ONE brick didn’t get its picture taken.  That brick was Jeanne’s.  I gotta tell ya.  This was the LAST brick that should have been left out.  Of course, I raced down to the Walkway and snapped a picture of Jeanne’s brick;  that’s what you see above.   And that brings me to the rest of this post. 

I asked the people who bought bricks during the fundraiser to send stories, pictures, links - anything they wanted to have mentioned in conjunction with the pictures of their bricks.  (This was Mindy’s idea, of the Slimmer Pugs - more on that another day!)  When I asked Jeanne what she wanted in the post about her brick, she had something quite simple to say.  Jeanne told me to say  The Random Felines brick is a reminder of our crew “right here right now”.    And so I’ve said it.  And that explains the brick.  Of course her “crew” changes regularly as is evident from her blog.  The brick in the Walkway freezes a moment in time at Jeanne’s place.  I hope you will drop by to visit her - by clicking here, or anytime from my Blogroll.

That, however, is not enough as far as I’m concerned.  I’ve decided to remind everybody that it was Jeanne who came to the rescue when we could NOT find a way to get Jasper and Soapy to Lana in California.  Jeanne raced in and saved the day.  She got those two cats onto a flight with a friend AND she drove all night to pick them up.   AND it was Jeanne who came to my rescue and loaded all of our homeless group of cats and kittens into our brand new site on Petfinder.  AND it is Jeanne who keeps me stable when I’m freaking out about something.  Most recently, I went into full-blown worry mode when the youngsters in my cathouse all came down with a mild upper respiratory disorder.   Jeanne made me feel much better. In an email to a different friend, I wrote -  Jeanne (at Random Felines) made me feel so much better when she told me that everybody just needs to calm down. This URI stuff is like a cold running through a population of people. A little snot and some sneezing for a while, and then it's over. No big deal. Everybody chill.     I LOVE her attitude. I tend to get WAY too bent out of shape over even mild animal illnesses (and probably everything else in my life, too).   Jeanne helps me get a little perspective.

So as you can see, I had more to say about Jeanne and her Random Felines than what she would have had me say.  ALL DESERVED.  (Oh, and Jeanne’s about to add to this list in the very near future.  But that’s another story. . . . .)

Jeanne ~ THANK YOU.

Rondo

The person who graciously purchased this brick wishes to remain anonymous.  But she does want to include a little blurb about Rondo and I’m SO glad about that.  In the words of “Anonymous”:

When I was 9 or 10, after ages of pleading from me, my parents finally decided we could adopt our first pet. They sent me to the library and gave me the job of researching breeds. My reading led me to the conclusion we should adopt a dog from a shelter, but I was summarily vetoed by my parents, who decided a dog with a known history from a reputable breeder was a better option for me and my baby brother. Now, I was devastated that we weren't rescuing an unwanted dog, but when I met Rondo, our new 2-month-old yellow labrador retriever pup, I knew he was supposed to be ours. We grew up together, and he was always by my side, keeping me company whether I was doing homework or hanging out with friends. Rondo would also "tuck me into bed"--he'd curl up in my room when I went to sleep until I fell asleep, after which he'd go to his favorite bed in the living room. I went to college too far to come home more than twice a year, but when I did he'd go back to tucking me in at night again. Rondo passed away during my second year of graduate school, and I miss him dearly. I now have two rescue kitties, who Rondo never would have tolerated (his one character flaw!), and their antics make me think of him often. 

Anonymous ~ THANK YOU.

Franklin, Dobby, and Tasha

I've known Katie since early in my blogging life.  She's been a consistent friend and supporter.  Katie’s blog is Mishkat (in my Blogroll).  She asked me to say this:

Although we haven't had time to keep up our blog or to visit very much, we still try to drop by and see our friends in the cat blogosphere every once in a while. We wanted to donate a brick to help a little with all that Chrystal and her family do to help animals.

                                                       Left to right:  Tasha, Franklin, Dobby

Katie ~ THANK YOU.

Waggles, Burden-Free

Over the weekend, I sat in front of this computer screen for what seemed like hours.  I would write a line or two, and then almost immediately erase  what I’d  written.  I couldn’t get started, and I wondered  why.  It’s like I wanted to tell Waggles’ entire story all over again.  But her story has been told.  Every detail of it.  Her rescue, her near-death experiences, her heroics in saving Older Daughter, her battle with cancer.  There’s nothing left to tell except her going away - something I tried to postpone but knew I could not prevent.

On Monday, October 3rd, I posted about that weekend - when Waggles literally went blind in a matter of 24 hours.  She was maneuvering throughout the basement, and up the stairs, and into the yard.  The next day, she was running into walls, could NOT manage stairs, and was afraid to be left in the yard.  We were warned, then, that neurological issues would follow.  That was only three weeks ago.  It seems like so much longer than that.  We started carrying Waggles up the basement steps and into the yard.  But being outside really made her nervous.  She had always been such a Nature dog.  She absolutely LOVED the outdoors.  Now she would listen for the sound of our feet or our voices and try to get as close as possible.  Her anxiety remained high until we carried her back to the security of her basement room.  This was no life for a Waggles.

The minute Waggles went blind, her quality of life plummeted.  Every day of the last three weeks I wondered about her happiness.  She lived in a dark world now.  She was afraid to be in the outdoor environment she had always loved so much.  I knew this was not right.  But Waggles still ate every meal.  She wagged her tail when we spoke to her.  She still loved it when I would sit beside her and pet her and talk to her.  Waggles and I had many conversations during that time.  I always told her what a wonderful addition to our family she was.  I told her how much we loved her and appreciated her.  And on several occasions, I made a specific request - Waggles, you have to let me know.  Try to let me know, OK?  If there’s any way at all that you can let me know when you’re ready to go, please do.  Find a way, Sweetie.     I was terrified that I wouldn’t know.  I was afraid of keeping her alive beyond her capacity to enjoy Life.  I knew she was tired.  But I couldn’t make the decision to end her foundering quality of life until I was sure.

On Thursday night, she ate her dinner like she has done forever.  Since going blind, she has been eating in a certain spot with her bowl stabilized in a corner so that it won’t slip away from her.  One of us would stand beside her until she finished her meal just to make sure everything went OK.  Then we would walk her over to the water dish to make sure she found it every time.  As I said, nothing was different about Thursday night.  I wrote an overdue email to Cheri (Cats of Wildcat Woods) on Thursday afternoon.  Cheri and her friends have been sending Reiki energy to Waggles for a long time.  I said in my email that I really hoped I would know when it was time to let Waggles go. 

I came downstairs Friday morning about 6:30am.  Usually, as soon as Bouzzer hears us moving around, he starts barking from his basement room.  This is to let me know that he would like to go outside, thank you very much.  I heard the barking.  Then I stopped dead in my tracks.  That wasn’t Bouzzer.  That was Waggles.  She had stopped barking altogether when the cancer settled into her nasal cavity.  I had not heard that sound in months.  My mind was racing as my body raced me to her room in the basement.  I flung open the door and there she was - crumpled onto her side, unable to pull herself up.  I called to her as I shot towards her, and she tried to stand.  Her two front legs pushed to lift her head and chest, but her back legs didn’t move.  She crashed to the floor.  I pulled her onto my lap and started trying to calm her down.  She would bark and then whine.  She was panting, struggling to breathe.  I sat on the floor with her for three or four minutes, stroking her head, her face, her body.  I was sobbing so hard that I couldn’t comfort her with my words.  I couldn’t speak.  I leaned over her and buried my face in her fur.  When I was finally able to choke out some words, I told her - OK, Waggles, OK.  It’s time.  It is abundantly clear.

I left her long enough to put in the call to the clinic.  My husband carried Waggles to the vehicle.  Her breathing was more shallow now.  I wasn’t even sure if she would make the 40-minute drive.  Dr. K would be there.  She is the one who did all of Waggles’ cancer treatments.   She performed the euthanasia.  And she cried. 

Since her death on Friday, I’ve thought back through SO many amazing moments with this dog.  She was the only pup from her litter not to be adopted.  She lived with us and let us help her through demodectic mange.  She got so close to death with the hemorrhagic disorder that we all said our goodbyes.  The day the vet told me I could come and briefly visit her, I raced into town and received a “moment in time” forever burned into my heart and soul.  She was lying on her side, too weak to lift her head.  I whispered her name.  Waggles.  Her tail thump-thumped against the cage floor.  She knew I was there.  She would stay alive for us.  She lived through snake bites and bullet wounds.  She had a nose bleed that should have ended her life.  And she fought valiantly through cancer.  She saved Older Daughter from the biggest copperhead snake we’d ever seen, and she saved both girls from their boyfriends over and over (smile).  She broke up fights between other pairs of dogs in our home, but never hurt a living being.  She looked into our faces and strained to read our minds.  She lived to please us.

I didn’t love Waggles more than any other dog or cat in our family.   Oh, yes, I loved her.  But I love each and every one.  We don’t have a certain amount of love that has to be divided up, becoming smaller and smaller as we love greater numbers of beings.  Love doesn’t work that way.  With each new being in our lives, our love multiplies.  It expands.  It continues to grow bigger and bigger with each new addition to our hearts.  I didn’t love Waggles more.  But what I want to acknowledge here is that Waggles was an animal who went above and beyond.  She gave more than I’ve ever seen any other animal give in my entire lifetime.  She was a deep and enduring Soul.  I wish her long romps in the Countryside wherever she finds herself now.  And I hope from an Infinite place in myself that she will come around occasionally.  I will see her again.




















Waggles, Farewell.  

 

I wrote this post throughout the weekend.  This morning, let me add how much your comments and emails have meant to me.  I took you along on this terminal journey.  Thank you for caring.  Waggles would have loved each and every one of you.

No Post Today

Waggles is on her way out.

Tungsten, Josie, Renn, and Tucker

I’d like to draw your attention to a new addition to my Blogroll.   I Have Three Cats is a blog I have only recently become familiar with due to the writer’s purchase of a brick in the Winnie’s Wish Walkway.  I asked that writer (James) for a story about his brick.  After reading his story, do please pop over to his blog for pictures of his crew.  You can click here to do that, or you can visit that blog any time by going to my Blogroll.

Now, in James’ words:

I was not a cat-person to begin with, but friends and acquaintances with cats started to have their effect, and eventually I considered getting a cat of my own. To be honest, I would have preferred a dog but I thought, living in an apartment and being at work all day, that this would have been impractical and unfair to the animal. So I acquired a cat from a local rescue group, the PAW Society, of Lethbridge, Alberta.

This cat was Tungsten, named after my favourite element. She was estimated to be seven years old at the time. The speed at which we became the best of friends was remarkable, perhaps because we are alike in so many ways, yet different enough not to annoy each other.
Having a cat was so fun and pleasurable that I decided, after a year or so, to get a second, thinking that Tungsten was lonely while I was at work. She may have been lonely, but not for feline companionship. She hated Josie, and they fought. I was new to cats then and thought I’d made a terrible mistake. But cats usually adjust in their own ways, and these two did. They are still not pals, but they have found tolerance.

Then I started taking in foster-cats for the PAW Society. Initially, it was because there was an emergency and no other place could be found for suddenly unwanted animals. There have been six fosters, all emergencies. One of them, my big boy, Renn (he started out with only one ‘n’; I’m not sure why he acquired the second) was frightened of everything. He’s become much better, but still hides when visitors arrive. I felt I couldn’t subject him to another new home, more change and fear, so I adopted him, too.

My fourth cat isn’t really mine; he’s another foster called Tucker, my roly poly. A more harmless, adorable animal you won’t find. Thinking outside the box is encouraged these days, but not so wetting outside the box. His owners evicted him for it and, with nowhere else to go, he too came to stay with me. His adjustment was difficult, as he became despondent and stopped eating. But he adapted and now, though the most timid of cats, is a part of the household. Because I’ve adopted three pets, I call him the fourth of my three cats.

I welcomed Tungsten to her new home more than four years ago, and I haven’t regretted it. Each cat gladdens my day in his own way, as nothing else could. From a man dubious about cats in any form to someone who couldn’t live without them is quite a change and, like a cat, I dislike change. In fact, I dislike it so much, I may just have to stay permanently a cat-person…

James ~ THANK YOU.

Ailing Cathouse Crew

First let me say - Thank you for reading about Miranda yesterday and for caring about her. 

At the beginning of this past weekend, I noticed that Trex and Frosting were sneezing.  I moved them to a cage in my kennel office to watch them more closely.  As the weekend progressed, Golden joined the ranks.  Then Charms.  Then Bagheera.  At this moment in time, the only “youngster” in the cathouse who has not succumbed is Monkey.  I was on the phone to my vet over the weekend and she said I shouldn’t worry.  It was probably just a mild upper respiratory virus moving through, and because all of our cathouse crew have had ALL of their vaccinations, the effects should be mild and short-lived.  This group of sneezers continued to eat and play which kept me from worrying too much.  But Golden had a runny eye to go along with the sneezing.  It was hard to keep my mind from taking me forward.  What if this became an epidemic like my daughter is continuously faced with at the shelter.  What if this went from sneezing to full-blown illness with fever, etc.  We even had a kitty in the cathouse who had recently been “chosen” (remember how we’ve been trying to get a chunk of the transport route filled?).  Under the current circumstances, that has had to go on hold.

Yesterday afternoon, at my vet’s suggestion, I took one representative of the sneezing group in to be examined.  I took the “chosen” one because this one needs to get this virus behind him/her in order to be ready for a new home.  (I won’t say at this point who the “chosen” one is so as not to ruin the surprise.)  Anyway, what Dr. S said after the exam was this: Multiple (seventeen) cats living together produces the continuous possibility of an illness running through.  She said that even in the best of living conditions, seventeen cat personalities trying to co-exist will create stress.  Also, she found it absolutely predictable that it was our group of youngsters who were ill.  Even though they have each had their full series of vaccinations, the younger they are, the more prone to illness.  She said that once a cat reaches a year old, there is less chance of exposure translating into actual illness.  And that with more years (two, three, four . . .), the chances keep going down (until a cat reaches old age, at which point anything is possible).  Dr. S warned me that I could see symptoms show up in some of the adult cats in my cathouse, but that she suspected those symptoms would be very mild.  We are watching.

I have become intensely aware of two things while I’ve been in worry-mode about this situation.  One, I am EVEN MORE grateful for the homes that Winnie’s Wish kitties have gone to.  As careful as we are, and as hard as we try, a “shelter” of any kind for homeless animals is NOT as good as a home.  Yes, it is mountains better than where these kitties have come from, but it is not the relatively stress-free environment of a real home.  For all of you who have a Winnie’s Wish kitty in your home right now, please take a moment and pat yourselves on the back.  Those kitties are safely tucked into their homes, with their human/kitty families, enjoying individual love and a soothing environment.  This is yet another gift you have given.

I said there were two things I’d become more aware of.  The second is how sweet the kitties in my cathouse really are.  As I’ve pulled the youngsters out of the cathouse and into cages in my office, I have been re-introduced to various personalities in a more one-on-one way.  Bagheera, Trex, and Charms are SO sweet it is nearly unbearable.  Golden is a little less forward, but she is a sweetheart, too.  (Frosting has a behavior that is NOT terribly endearing right now.  What an absolute lovebug she is, but Oh, what an annoying habit she has - more another time.)  Anyway, this situation leaves fewer cats in the cathouse, too, so there is more individual interaction with the healthy group as well.  Glitter, Luna, Mitts, Monkey, and Percy are just so friendly and so amazing that I can’t find words.  Any of these five is going to make a WONDERFUL addition to someone’s family.  I love every single cat in that cathouse, and I don’t care if they are super friendly or not.  They all have a home right here, forever if need be.  But we have some of the greatest cats ever for adoption right now.  It makes me want to shout from the rooftops that there are SWEETHEARTS to be had.  If anyone out there is reading this, and is considering adopting, I beg you to contact me.  I have some kitties right now that will give TO YOU way more than you will ever have to give TO THEM.

Here are some pictures of our healthy Super-Friendlies.  Monkey wins first place in the I Will-Give-You-Attention category.  I didn’t mention Tulip earlier because she has a problem in the Friendly-To-Other-Cats category, but she really loves people (and she still plays like a kitten and loves toys).

   Luna.

                                                                                       Glitter.


Mitts.
                     We put a new heater in Winnie’s Room.  Here is Tulip in the heater box.

Monkey.

Monkey and Percy.



Keep your fingers crossed for us that this upper respiratory virus will run its course quickly.  We have all of the sneezers on Viralys (lysine), and my vet is standing ready with antibiotics if we need to go a round.  (We’re keeping watch for yucky noses and eyes.)  And while you’re sending well wishes our way, won’t you please consider adopting one of these darlings.  Every time a kitty goes into a real home, I breathe a sigh of relief.  That’s a kitty who gets to live the good life.  Won’t you give one of the current gang a shot at that life?


See you tomorrow when it’s Back to Bricks.

We Lost a Foster Kitten

The same post that introduced you to the starving little puppies (update yesterday) was the post that introduced you to some very sick kittens.  Younger Daughter and I have been taking care of Serenity and puppies while Older Daughter took care of the kittens.  I was up early yesterday morning posting about the improvement in the canine group.  Right after publishing that post, I headed down to the kennel where the five kittens have been living in our “quarantine” room.   Four of the five kittens had been improving.  Those four started eating on their own only days after coming here.  However, for two full weeks, Older Daughter has been force-feeding one in the group.  This one just never started eating on her own.  Then at the start of the weekend, we all rejoiced when she took her first few bites.  For two days, she ate on her own and started playing with the others.  We were all relieved that she had finally turned the corner.  For Older Daughter, it was a real celebration.  Naturally, she had become very close to this little baby.  That happens when you hand-feed something.  Honestly, it was only because of Older Daughter that this kitten continued to live.

So when I walked into the quarantine room yesterday morning, what I found put me into shock.  That little baby (her name was Miranda) was lying limp on the cage floor.  The other kittens were walking over her.  I grabbed her out of the cage.  She was struggling to breathe.  I raced to call Older Daughter.  She and I spent the next many hours trying to save her.  We did everything we already knew to do - subQ fluids, sugar water by mouth, warmth by holding her close to our bodies.  Older Daughter knew what meds to try (we had them on hand), but called to get confirmation.  As directed, we tried the medication for breathing and the antihistamine.  Nothing changed her condition.  A few hours later, she was gone.  Older Daughter held her through her transition.  Little Miranda looked directly into Older Daughter’s face as she took her last breath.  That was the face she had grown to know.  That was the face that belonged to the human who had worked so hard to save her.  Older Daughter is an employee of an animal shelter and has been for a while.  She is faced with the very sick and the dying on a regular basis now.  But she said what you’ve heard me say so many times before - It never gets any easier.  After our tears, we buried little Miranda in our own pet cemetery.  I don’t have a picture of her because it was only just this past weekend that she had started to feel better.  (I sure regret that now.)  In the post mentioned earlier, Miranda is the little black kitten in the picture of three - she is the one with her back turned to the camera. 

I know this post is sad.  And without even a picture, it's hard for those of you reading this to get a feel for Miranda.  But I don't want her life to go unnoticed.  I want to give her a day on this blog so that she is recognized and memorialized.

Miranda, Farewell.