Volunteering

So, it was recommended to me to volunteer - to do something. Although I could see the opportunity for growth, I had such a hard time deciding what to volunteer for. I always thought of volunteering as feeding the homeless people, or talking to the elderly. Old people can be kind of grumpy, and I'm not very compassionate about poor people, I guess. I feel that a lot of people make a lot of bad choices and then feel victims to their own circumstances, when they could make better choices and avoid the situations they're in.

So, Steve suggested I do something with animals. Animals don't judge you, don't yell at you when they're having a bad day, and don't really say anything bad to you. In fact, some of them actually like you, and like it when you touch them. They even give hugs.

While trying to decide what to do with Obi, I contacted Stormy at Titanic's Toy Hilton. Stormy runs a bording and grooming shop for cats and dogs. She's the cat person, her husband's the dog person, and she's always taken good care of Beezy when we go on vacation. In fact, Beezy seems to think it's like summer camp when she gets to stay with Stormy.

I asked Stormy what she thought I should do with Obi. She suggested that I contact CAWS (Community Animal Welfare Society) and see if they could take him. She gave me a phone number for Janita, who asked me to send her information about Obi. I wrote a beautiful email - pretty poetic for a cat, to describe him.

And the response from CAWS was that there was no one to foster him, but they would list him if I could foster him. I ran this by Steve, and he said that could take months or even longer. In the meantime, Obi had issues we needed to get him through - the tail issue, plus parasites and bacteria from a bad diet. I told Janita I'd discuss it with Steve and get back to her.

Well, two weeks later, we decided to try to introduce Obi to our three girls. The girls still don't like him. Last night Steve said he went from being the Outdoor Beezy (OB), to being the hurt, tailless kitty, to being the stinky kitty, to being "Shatz the cat", and now he's just a cluless male: Always getting yelled at, but not understanding why. Poor little guy.

Obi gets to stay, and I let Janita know that we've decided to keep him. She said that was great. I also asked if they could use any volunteers, and she was so excited. I agreed to volunteer on the last Saturday of the month.

When I arrived, I met Amy - she was so welcoming, and put me to work right away filling water dishes. She then suggested I help Holly clean out the cages. All the time I worked, Holly asked me about how I got involved, and I got to talk about my four "kids." It was great to have something in common with people I've never met before!

It was a busy day - one dog and one kitten were adopted. I got to talk to some girls who were very excited to be taking home the kitten, and then I ran the dogs out to potty for the rest of the day. Had it not of been for a sprained ankle, I would have stuck around.

Last Saturday, I helped them set up the cages, get the cages ready for the kitties, and put up signs, take food, then I helped sort through the list of name tags and papers. By the end of the day, I was bushed, and happy to be home, with my own four babies who get me, and I get to hold them.

I really like this Volunteer thing.

Update on Obi

I guess I should mention that we found out Obi's a boy...so the name fits better, anyways. Our tailless wonder is happily hanging out in one of our rooms, with no intentions of leaving any time soon. Looks like Obi found a home. So, yes, we're up to four cats. I know, we're one cat above marginally strange.

On Saturday, we went to get a new cat tree. As we in the parking lot, sliding it into the bed of the truck, a lady came by with a cart full of dog food. She said, "I have one of those - my cats love it." We just smiled. As we got into the truck, Steve said, "We're the crazy cat people, and that lady knows it - she recognizes one of her own."

Velvet Goldmine

So, if you thought I was just going to talk about cats on this blog, well, then you think I'm out of my mind. And maybe I am, but anyways....

One of my favorite movies of all time is Velvet Goldmine. Now, what makes this different than other movies I like is that I found this one all by myself, thoroughly enjoy it all by myself, and no one's told me that they like it. Most people haven't seen it. So I know my opinion of this film is not biased by wanting to align my feelings with anyone else's opinions.

So, why do I like it so much?

Well, to start, I've always wanted to like David Bowie. Since I was a kid and watched Labyrinth, I've been intrigued as to how a man can look so fanciful in eyeshadow. I have no idea how he pulled it off, but I could look at him and not think, "This guy's a raging fairy." It was intriguing, without being freaky. But, I could never get into his music. Ziggy Stardust was just a name of an album that I never listened to.

Now, this film isn't about David Bowie, but is rumored to be loosely based on his story. But that's only a little, tiny, tiny bit of why I like this movie. It was my introduction to understanding what "Glam Rock" was. It's not disco, it's not metal, and it's, well, on a varying scale of gayness. This movie helped me understand the spirit that Ziggy Stardust can be interpreted into, making the music much more enjoyable - I like a little back story, even if it's fiction.

And, I'm a sucker for a movie with great dialogue. Take, for instance, this entire argument when the wife of the main character files for divorce. She confronts her "husband" while he's sitting in bed, snorting coke off the rear end of one of his groupies (yes, that image in itself is slightly disturbing, but plays well into this movie in showing how far the star has fallen:)

MANDY
Your problem is: ‘You get what you want and do what you will.’

BRIAN
‘Worlds,’ Mandy, ‘are built out of suffering. There is suffering at the birth of a child as at the birth of a star.’

MANDY
‘You live in terror of not being misunderstood.’

BRIAN
‘Women defend themselves by attacking, just as they attack by sudden and strange surrenders.’

MANDY
(more to herself)
‘I lost my girlhood, true. But it was for you.’

Now, these quotes are not original - by that, I mean not written by the screenwriters themselves. But how you take these quotes and make dialogue for a few short minutes to make the audience feel the ending of the relationship is genius.

Another one of my favorite scenes is towards the end, when another one of the main characters is looking back on the wild relationship he had:

CURT
Listen – a real artist creates beautiful things and...puts nothing of his won life into them. Okay?

ARTHUR
Is that what you did?

CURT
No.
We set out to change the world and ended up...just changing ourselves.

ARTHUR
What’s wrong with that?

CURT
Nothing.
If you don’t look at the world.

I guess, when you look at it, it's a story that's been done before - a star rises, a star falls in love, a star falls. Except the star falls in love with another male star. It's not Brokeback - it's better. None of the uncomfortable scenes with the indication of what's going on - you know, but you don't have to watch it. And none of the guys cry.

But I guess this narration at the beginning sums up the feeling of the whole movie:

"For once there was an unknown land, full of strange flowers and subtle perfumes, a land of which it is joy of all joys to dream, a land where all things are perfect and poisonous..."

Perfect and poisonous. It's fun to live vicariously through others for a couple of hours, seeing as I'm a conservative white female from Utah who will never be a male bisexual rock star. And I'm completely OK with that - but the costumes were fabulous!

The kitty that stole Christmas

Bailey is my cat - all mine. Everything about her is like me - she's "fluffy" (one step away from "DAMN....."), she's a little shy at first, she loves to cuddle, and she's needy sometimes. She may even have self-esteem issues. Steve brought her home from a Petsmart adoption in place of a child. I know - some people don't understand how they can compare.

The week that Steve brought Bailey home, my husband's brother's wife had her second child. Her first, Jonathan, was about two years old. I wanted to have Jonathan stay the night with me, but apparently I misunderstood that he was coming with me, and her parents took him home right after I arrived at the hospital. I was upset because I wanted to be part of his life, and concerned about what the impact of the new baby would have on him. I came home in tears, heartbroken that I couldn't bring Jonathan for a visit. In reality, I have no say in what the parents decide to do with their children, and Steve explained this to me.

A few days later, I hear our one and only baby, Aisha, growling right after Steve got home. I thought, "That's a little unusual." Aisha had always been Steve's cat and lived to please him. I looked over the railing to see what was going on, and saw that Steve was holding a carrier. And inside was a beautiful black, gray, and white tabby with big, green eyes. And HUGE paws - I mean big! Her name was "Brady" - and I told Steve a few days later over dinner that I was going to name her Bailey. Since she was my cat, he had to agree - although he liked the name Brady.

I heard the other day that a cat has three names - the one their mother gives them, the one you give them, and the one they call themselves. I'm not sure what Bailey calls herself, but she answers to Bailey-Boo.

About 9 months later, we heard Bailey gasping and wheezing off and on. She would have coughing fits and be out of breath. I know that a cat shouldn't be panting hard in the middle of winter. Unsure of what to do, but positive something was wrong, we took her to Banfield, inside of Petsmart. There, the vet on duty checked her lungs and suggested she either had pneumonia or asthma. Not knowing everything about Bailey's history, I couldn't say which I thought it was - and can cats have asthma?

And this is how the stealing of Christmas began.

The vet sent us home with an antibiotic. The bill came to about $100 for the visit and the antibiotic. However, a week passed, and Bailey had no change. She was still wheezing and hacking every four hours or so.

So, back to the vet she went. Another office visit fee, and a discussion that she may have asthma. Cat asthma is treated with steroids in the form of shots, and a bronchiodialator in the form of a pill.

In order to put a cat on steroids, which weaken the immune system, a test needs to be done to make sure the cat truly doesn't have pneumonia. This test involves flushing the lungs and testing the fluid for bacteria or viruses. This test must be done while the cat is under anesthesia, otherwise the cat will be in pain and drown. If you choose to forgo this test, the steroids will weaken the immune system and could result in death of the cat has pneumonia.

The decision to go forward with the test was a tough one for me, until Steve said, "They're our kids right now. If we had kids, and they needed this treatment, we wouldn't question it. We'd just do it."

So, we agreed to the test. The estimate? About $300 to put her out and have her tested. So what do you do?

The test came back negative, and Bailey was given the shot, while I was given a bag of pills to put down her throat. There was no hiding pills in her food - for being such a fat cat, she only eats dry cat food. We started the treatment, and it went fine.

The bill totaled about $700 for all the office visits and medications. Here's where I should mention that since this time, we have all our cats on pet insurance that covers office visits, vaccinations, and a discount on medicines and procedures. If it wasn't for this insurance, the costs may have been much higher. Ironically, two years after purchasing the insurance, we found that Bailey's asthma has been under control. But you can never be so sure.

Since it was so close to Christmas and Bailey's health issues cost us so much money, we decided to pass up on the gifts to each other and spend less on other family members. Steve's parents lent us some cash to get by for a little while until we could make up the difference. And this is how Bailey stole Christmas.

In hindsight, I still would have paid the money. She sleeps above my head every night, asthma free, and cuddles like no other. She's the only cat that purrs the moment I touch her, unless she's upset about something. (The others could take it or leave it - mostly leave it.)

A few months later, Bailey's asthma returned. Back to the vet we go (the office visit now free), and the vet goes down the same path of logic: it could be pneumonia, or it could be asthma. I know this time it's asthma - exact same cough/hack noise, no production of phlegm. However, just to be sure, the vet recommends we do the same test. At this point, I draw the line. I know what it is - just give her the damn shot and let's get on with it!

"But what if she does have pneumonia? If I give her the shot, the pneumonia could take over her body and she would die," the vet says. (Pack my bags, I'm going on a guilt trip!).

"It's a risk I'm willing to take. I know the sounds, I know my cat," I respond. She finally gives in and gives us the treatment.

Eight months later, Bailey starts up with the asthma attacks again. However, this time, Steve and I were armed with information about feline asthma. It can be treated like human asthma - with inhalers, instead of shots and pills. We found the Aerokat (http://www.aerokat.com/), an adapter made to give cats inhalers.

Instead of going to the same vet, I meet with one at another location. I suggest this treatment, and she says she's heard of it, but has never used it before. She spends a few hours researching the medications. She writes the prescription for the bronchiodialator and Flovent. I take it to Wal-mart to get it filled, which cost us about $100.

We begin treatments that evening - whenever she had an attack, we used the bronchiodialator, and twice a day we gave her the Flovent.

Over time, her asthma slowed down, and then stopped. We still have the adaptor, but the inhalers expired and were tossed out. She hasn't had an asthma attack since.

Flovent cured my cat's asthma. Or the pet insurance did. I'm putting my faith in Flovent.

This year, it may be Obi stealing Christmas.

Obi-Wan

So, last night, I told Steve I didn't want to put food out for the outdoor stray we had been feeding until she came by. She started letting us get close about 3 weeks ago, and now she prefers a little bit of cuddle before her meal.

We named her O.B. for Outdoor Beezy because she looks just like Beezy - she's all black. In fact, one day I came home and saw her in front of the rosebushes in my yard and freaked out, thinking that somehow Beezy got out of the house.

So, I asked Steve if I could name her Obi-Wan instead, and he said only if "O.B." 2 comes along - then it would be "O.B. 1" Well, if you put food out, the cats will come, and eventually we had a second cat - our O.B. 2. Steve named her Ari, and I called O.B. Obi-Wan.

But I digress.

Obi finally came around last night, and I grabbed the usual amount of food to put out - I told Steve I wanted some cuddle time with her. When I went to put the food out, I saw what I first thought was a straw stuck to her tail. On closer look, I saw the red straw was her tail - it had been stripped of its fur.

I ran back inside - Steve was about to crawl in bed. I yelled his name and said "Obi's tail is missing." He said it's OK, she's an outdoor cat, and she'll survive a missing tail. I said "No, it's not just missing - there's a lot of blood." I burst into tears, and I couldn't feed her. I asked him if he would feed her, then.

He grabbed some roast beef (a treat for Obi), and looked for his flashlight. I ran to the bedroom and grabbed it off of the dresser. He looked at it, and I said, "What do we do?" He looked, and he told me to call a vet office that our normal vet's office recommended for after hours. We looked for one that was close, but couldn't find it, so I just called the number that our vet's message gave for after hours emergencies.

They said it would be $75 to see her. I hesitated for a moment because she's not really our cat. I explained what happened, and they explained that most likely her tail would need to be amputated. Got the address, and then hung up and looked at Steve. He grabbed the computer while I called the Humane Society, who's message said to call the local law enforcement for animal control - that would be certain death for Obi. Steve thought for about 30 seconds, and told me to get the cat carrier.

We wrangled the cat into the carrier with a towel to give her some protection. I put her in the back seat and buckled her in (something both Steve and I firmly believe in.) I grabbed the GPS out of the center console to put the address in, but I wasn't successful the first time. Steve asked if I would like him to do it, so I handed it over. He got the address, and we headed on our way.

I could not stop crying. I had all sorts of thoughts going through my head. As we pulled out of the neighborhood, an ambulance went by with flashing lights. I thought, "It could be much worse - it could be a person close to me. Or even one of my own babies." A little bit further down the road, I said, "Well, I guess she's ours, now." Steve teased "If you wanted her that badly, you could have just said something - you didn't have to strip her tail." I said that if she had humans, I wanted to kick the crap out of them for letting her go outdoors. We both firmly believe in keeping cats indoors unless you live in a very rural area - there are a lot of sickos out here. He said, "We messed up when we gave her a name." I said "No, it was when we started feeding her. We're never feeding another stray cat."

More tears came as we drove on, and thoughts were racing through my head:

• At what point did we endanger her life? Was it when we started feeding her?


• What kind of a price limit could I put on this cat's life?


• How could someone do this to her? If it was a human (which I couldn't see anything not human related doing this to her) how could they just let her go?


• Are we losing this money that we are going to pay because I'm too compassionate? Am I doing the right thing?


• Does my husband know how much I love him - for being so compassionate, for being a "cat person" like me, for loving animals for all that they are?


• Can I continue to watch Ghost Whisperer after Jim dies? (I know - what does this have to do with the cat? Nothing - it's about my fear of losing my husband - one I don't want to face and can't seem to get over recently.)

Then a song came on the radio - I know it's silly, but it seemed to fit. It was the Killer's song, "Human." Are we Human, or are we Dancer/Denser - there's still debate on the lyrics. But anyways, it made me think: I am human. I was put on this earth for some purpose, even if I don't know what it is. And I have control over whether this animal is taken care of. Obi got silent, and Steve started meowing at her to get her to respond. He explained that the injury was called a "degloving", and that as long as she was meowing, she wasn't in shock.

When we got to the vet's office, Steve filled out the paperwork. A lady asked what was wrong with our kitty, and I explained that she's not even ours, but what had happened - and then I burst into tears again. She told the lady at the front desk that we could go first. Although her room was already set up, it meant so much that she would let us go first. It put a little faith back into humanity.

As we got into the room, I put my hand in to touch Obi's head. She started purring, which was a good sign, I kind of think - trying to comfort herself. I started singing that song, softly - and completely out of tune. I was a comfort to me, I guess - I am human, and I am doing the right thing.

The technician came in, and said that he'd like to get a weight and temperature - I said, "Good luck" - there was no way we were going to be able to stick a thermometer in her hind end when she was using it to to protect her tail. We got her weight, and waited a few more minutes (not long at all) for the Vet. He estimated the cost to be about $400. Steve said OK, and they took Obi in back.

Steve paid all $400 right there - he figured if that's the cost, we'll pay it. He said he would have been limited at $500 - for me, $300 was about where I was going to draw the line, but then that line came up way too soon.

As we got into the car, more tears came. I asked "Are we doing the right thing?" He responded "How can you even question that?" Good point. I realize that I question everything about myself lately. But that's another post.

Then he said, "It's one hell of a Karma deposit."

This morning, we got the call from the Vet's office that Obi was fine and ready to go home. And that she's a he. I think. We'll find out later.

In the meantime, Steve is getting some much needed sleep. I'll get dressed and clean out the downstairs room for Obi in a few minutes so she'll have someplace to recooperate. If it's a "he", we'll probably release him back to the outdoors and create a shelter for him. If he's been outdoors that long, then I'm sure he'll be a sprayer. If it's a she, I'll call my mom and see if she'll take her.

Steve asked Bailey if she told Obi the story of the kitty who ruined Christmas.