In case you missed it, I put an entry up on Saturday which included approximately 10,000 pictures of the Crooked Acres Gang.
I AM SO THIRSTY. But I can’t drink or eat anything until after my 10:30 ultrasound (don’t get excited, they’re ultrasounding my liver to see if that cysty thing that showed up last time I had it done has grown at all. My suggestion to slice two holes through my abdomen and squeeze that cyst ’til it POPS LIKE A ZIT was met with resounding silence. Hmph.) and I am so thirsty.
So thirsty.
Did I mention so thirsty?
I should have taken the appointment that was later in the week, but earlier in the day, I think.
So yeah, I saw DrLiver on Friday for a followup visit. DrLiver is five days older than I am, so he noticed that I’d turned 40 too, so we did the requisite “OHMYGOD we’re SO OLD” and “Have your eyes started to go yet?”, then he told me I needed to go for an ultrasound, felt up my stomach flab (I assume he was feeling to make sure my liver wasn’t enlarged, but one day when he does that, I’m going to smack his hand away and yell “Don’t you know you don’t go feeling a lady’s flab like that without warning?!”) and ordered some bloodwork.
It’s always a quick, pleasant experience, seeing DrLiver. Well, except for the part where I have to have blood drawn, but the people at the lab do nothing but draw blood all day, so they know exactly what they’re doing, and they’ve never missed a vein yet.
About ten days ago, to express the fact that he’s a giant asshole, Mister Boogers peed on a blanket I left on the new (to us) couch. Naturally, the pee soaked through the blanket onto the couch below, so I soaked the affected couch cushions with Nature’s Miracle. Nature’s Miracle dried, but I could still smell cat pee. I soaked it with Nature’s Miracle again. Dried. Cat pee smell remained.
Out of Nature’s Miracle, I stopped at the pet store on Thursday to buy more, but they didn’t have the regular, plain ol’ Nature’s Miracle, just the Oxi-Orange (or whatever it’s called) stuff, and I dislike intensely the smell of fake orange. I looked around to see what else there was, spotted a bottle of Stink Free, saw the money-back guarantee, and decided to give it a try.
Friday night I soaked the hell out of the couch where we could still clearly smell the smell of cat urine. Saturday morning, Fred danced into my room as I was making my bed and said “It’s a miracle!” There was no cat pee smell at all. AT ALL. Just the vaguest scent of the Stink Free, which is a pleasant laundry detergenty smell.
I highly, highly recommend it – though keep in mind that it’s early days yet, and I can’t guarantee that the urine smell won’t come back at some point. For now, we are very, very happy with the Stink Free.
As I mentioned in Saturday’s entry, I bought a spray bottle of Feliway at the pet store on Thursday. I used it Thursday evening to spray down the couches, and then I couldn’t find the goddamn thing.
I still can’t find it.
Places where the Feliway bottle is NOT:
Bathrooms, bathroom cabinets, shower organizer
Kitchen cabinets, kitchen bookcase, under the kitchen sink
Refrigerator, other refrigerator, freezer, other freezer
Litter boxes or litter box areas
Washer, dishwasher, dryer (though it’s a possibility it slipped through the dryer portal and is nestled in a nest of lost socks in another dimension)
Medicine cabinet (any of them), drawer in the kitchen where we used to keep the cat medicine, dresser in the foster kitty room where we keep foster kitty supplies
Any of my desk drawers, under my desk, behind my desk
On the couch, on the other couch, stuck down in either of the couches, under the couches
In any of the cat toy baskets
In my purse
Held hostage by Contrary, the big LIAR (and to think, I almost traumatized George by tying a ribbon around her neck!)
And McLovin reports that he can definitively state it is NOT, as previously suspected, up his butt
I even tried ordering a bottle of Feliway off eBay, certain that as soon as I paid for it, the lost bottle would show up. NO LUCK.
I think it’s clear that my Feliway has R-U-N-N-O-F-T.
If you see it, grab it firmly around its neck and march it back to me, post-haste.
Thankyew.
Yesterday was pretty much doing all the fun stuff that you have to do to get ready for the week ahead. If I had a job, I’m sure I’d have been all pissy by the end of the day because I spent all day doing shit I didn’t particularly want to do, but I don’t have a job, so I wasn’t pissy.
In case you wondered.
I got up fairly early yesterday because we left HG out of the foster room overnight (we put him up as usual at bedtime Saturday night, but he started meowing sadly (and very loudly) and when I peeked into the hallway, he had one paw stretched out under the door, and it was such a sad little sight that I let him out of the foster room) and Mister Boogers took exception to the addition (however temporary) of another cat to the household by being a great big jerk and picking on Joe Bob. I think Mister Boogers enjoys picking on Joe Bob because Joe Bob responds with an ear-piercing scream. HG, on the other hand, behaved himself quite nicely, spent most of the night on the end of the bed (which means I had five cats on the bed with me, but still managed to sleep pretty well) and didn’t make any trouble.
I spent a good part of the afternoon talking to Splash, who hid in her kitty condo and glared at me and wasn’t charmed by me at all.
COME ON, SPLASH.
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So HG, as mentioned, has been spending all his time out in the house with the other cats. I’ve never seen a kitten who gets along so well with other cats. He LOVES the other cats, and if they respond to him by hissing and smacking, he just shrugs and moves on. He and Tommy are fast becoming friends – I caught them snuggling and Tommy licking the top of HG’s head yesterday, and last night I woke up with the entire bed vibrating from the sound of HG’s purring, and I looked over to find Tommy and HG curled up together – and HG doesn’t run from us when we approach him (which he was doing when we first let him out into the house). He’s about ready to go to the pet store and be adopted, I do believe. I think that separating him from Smudgie was a very good idea.
Splash on the other hand, I don’t know. I don’t know what else to try with her. I go into the room and talk to her, I offer her snacks (sometimes she eats them, sometimes she doesn’t). I don’t make prolonged direct eye contact with her, I try to entice her to play, I try to touch her gently (I’ve gotten smart enough to wear a glove, at least) and every time I try to touch her – or even just hold out my hand for her to sniff – she hisses and smacks with her lightning-fast paw of doom.
I don’t know. I’m not giving up, but she’s the most feral cat I’ve ever had as a foster. Maybe when her sister gets here (the lady who has her hasn’t been able to get her hands on her) she’ll come out of her shell. I don’t know. We’ll see.
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The other day I was standing at the kitchen sink doing dishes when something in the big bush outside the window caught my eye.
I was pretty sure it was Newt, but there’s at least one other cat around here who looks like Newt, so I wasn’t positive until I knocked on the window and he turned to see what was going on.
Definitely Newt. He hung out in the bush for a couple of hours before he appeared at the side door wanting to come inside.
Last night after dinner, Fred was doing dishes, and when I walked into the kitchen, he said “What is that?”
Apparently Newt really likes hanging out in that bush. I hope the birds that usually hop and in out of that bush realize he’s there!
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Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: God save me from the permed ‘fro.
2005: Why do I bother to make New Year’s resolutions, I ask you?
2004: Bastard.
2003: “That’s right, you LITTLE SHIT, get the hell out of here!” I yelled, stomping at him.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Not much of an entry.