Pumpkin Feet

Today my beloved husband looked at me adoringly and said, "I love that you wear funny socks".

It could be worse.

Happy Halloween, Everybody!!!

Hodgepodge

"Get your oxycontin-stained hands off of Marty McFly!"

~Peter Sagal, host of NPR's Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me! regarding Rush Limbaugh's criticism of Michael J. Fox's stem cell commercial

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Okay, that has nothing to do with anything. Except it was funny.

I don't have anything in particular to write about, I just figured I'd better write something.

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Dad, I've been ignoring your comment on my cat post. Let me just defend myself in one word: Grandma. I mean what did you expect from your daughter? I share genes with the woman who neutered a neighborhood cat that knocked up all the female neighborhood cats. Remember that? AND, she still has cats from an entire litter of probably feral cats she found God knows where several years ago. Did you really think I had a chance? Oh, yeah, and my mom has saved 4 cats from the harsh environment of Northern Minnesota, which exacerbates the situation for me. Considering my dear husband asked me yesterday, "Are we trapping more kitties this weekend?!" I'm going make a bold prediction that your grandchildren haven't got a chance either.

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Wednesday was an important day in my academic career. My Ph.D. committee met and concluded that my qualifying exam should be waived. It is a policy at my University that after aPh.D. student has successfully defended a Masters' thesis they are eligible for waiving the qualifying exam. In the past couple years the conditions have gotten more difficult so I wasn't sure if I could slide through. I have six publications (good) but only a mediocre GPA. My first year grades struggled due to moving 1500 miles away and being groped by a fellow grad student (against whom I had to press charges). I 've been deligently raising my GPA since then, but I was still nervous. In the end, it was good enough and my favorite professor (besides my advisor, of course) called me smart. Yay.

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Dean and I bought an exercise bike today. We decided it was cheaper than getting him a gym membership and that way he can watch Mike & Mike In the Morning while he works out. And the days I just don't feel like hauling my butt to the gym, I can watch CNN and workout in my jammies. It's the first somewhat big purchase we've made with our wedding money. Well, that's if you don't count the brake job I had to get on the Green Machine last month. But that wasn't a fun purchase.

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The weather is cooling down here finally and I love it. I never was excited about cool weather when I lived in Minnesota, but here fall is my favorite. Sure, you guys say how miserable Florida summers are, and for the most part you're right. But this is our time. It's our turn to sleep with the windows open and feel the cool breeze on our faces and wake up just a little too chilly with all the kitties snuggling with us. It's our turn to get the itch to be outside every minute to the point of playing hooky. And it's our turn all the way until March. And by that time, it'll be spring training and I'll be too f*cking excited to care that it's getting hot.

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Speaking of baseball, yay Cardinals! I am living vicariously through Lefty and her Post-World Series bliss. I'm so jealous. Ah well, maybe next year. Pitchers and catcher report in 117 days.

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That's all I got. Have a good weekend!

SWF Seeks Honda Owner

Dean and I have two Honda Del Sols. They were both mine when we got married and they were both given to me by my stepdad's mom who owned them before me. The Green Machine, as she is affectionately called, is a '93 and I got her when I was a senior in high school. My Stepgrandma upgraded to a '97 Del Sol and didn't want to sell off the Green Machine, so I got her. The second year I lived in Florida, Stepgrandma decided to get a Honda Hybrid, and my friend Di and I drove the Red Machine down to Florida in a Thelma- and- Louise- type fashion (another post entirely).
They've been good cars to us, and I'm sure they like it much better in Florida than in the frozen tundra of Minneapolis. It's always a little embarrassing telling people we have two of the same car and it can be a pain when we have visitors since we can only each have one passenger.

Anyway, the other day I was leaving for work when I noticed a police car parked across the parking lot. I drive the Green Machine to work since she doesn't have AC anymore and I only work a few miles from home. I opened the passenger door and set my laptop and my lunch bag on the seat. I shut the door to walk around to the driver's side when I noticed a rather large, intimidating cop walking to the police car. And he was staring at me.

"Good morning," I said nervously.

"Good morning," He replied thoughtfully. "Can I ask you a question?" For some reason I felt this must have something to do with the cat situation.

"Okay...." I said walking towards him.

"Does your husband drive a car just like that, only red?"

"Yeah..." I was apprehensive, but secretly glad I didn't have to correct him with "boyfriend."

"Oh. Because I always see those two cars parked here and I always wondered if it was a married couple that drove those two cars."

I laughed, relieved and a little surprised that he had taken note. "Yep, that's us!"

He continued, "I always imagined two people brought together by their love of Hondas." Now I was really surprised. He was a huge cop that had thought up a whole romantic story about our two little cars! I was so sad to burst his bubble.

"Actually, they were both mine before we got married. They both belonged to my grandma!" Usually the grandma part gets people surprised and a little amused.

He was clearly disappointed.

I Promise, One of These Days I'll Quit Blogging About Cats...

but not today.

I have a few more updates, for those of you who are sitll vaguely interested in my exploits as a feral cat colony caregiver. Sure, you all say you are vacationing, working too much, and watching your team go to the World Series. It's okay, if I were you I'd be sick of this too. But it's my blog.

Tuesday night I had the five fixed kitties recovering on the balcony. I was apprehensive about leaving them alone with Dean- who was scared of them- but I had book group and I missed last month to go get married. I'm glad I went. One of the ladies brought a bottle of champagne to "toast the bride" and we shared it. I was so touched. We decided that each month we should find a reason to celebrate.

Well it turns out those kitties are little bottomless pits. I had given them each a half a can of food when I got them. When I got home the balcony was littered was dry cat food. It looked like a bag exploded out there. I asked Dean what happened and he said the kitties ate all their food and were crying. He didn't know what to do so he took handfuls of dry food and threw them at the kitties. I asked him if throwing food at the kitties was really necessary. He said he was afraid they would lash out at him if he got any closer. I think he's going to need a crash course on recovering the cats.

Those kitties ate and ate and ate. Finally I left them each with a whole can of food when I went to bed that night. I was going to let them out at 6:30 Wednesday morning before I went to the gym. But when they woke me up with their restless crying at 4:00, I got to thinking: If I released them then, I would definitely see less people out and about to try to explain exactly what I was doing. Turns out there was one drunk college kid stumbling around and I doubt he remembers what he may have seen.

I didn't think there was anything more satisfying than letting them go. It was almost cathartic kneeling next to the cages, lifting the doors and watching them trot away, back to their lives. Only their lives won't include bringing countless of homeless kittens into the world. They ran off with full bellies and not liking me very much, so Heather said not to be surprised if I don't see them for a few days.

Speaking of homeless kittens, I got a frantic call from Heather at around 5:00 yesterday afternoon, shortly after I had gotten home from work. She said she had run into the maintenance man from my complex who found a small kitten under and abandoned couch by the dumpster. She took the kitten and called me. She said she is currently fostering several kittens right now and simply didn't have room for any more. Was I willing to take the kitten just until she could find a rescue group to take it? Against my better judgement, I agreed.

She and her boyfriend brought the kitten over along with some canned kitten food and some formula. I was shocked and terrified to see the kitten was probably about three weeks old. It's ears were still stuck to its head and it could barely stand without wobbling. What the hell was I doing? I was in way over my head. Heather said the more she thought about it, the more the kitten should go to an emergency room, but the boyfriend said it seemed healthy and that if it would eat, I should keep it until someone else could be found.

Needless to say, Dean was not thrilled to come home and find a three week old kitten locked in the bedroom, mewing and squeaking and our gigantic grown cats milling around the closed door, scratching and crying. I knew immediately I had crossed a line. I felt like I had taken advantage of Dean's graciousness about my new "hobby". Please don't misunderstand, Dean loves kitties and thinks what I am doing is noble. But he doesn't want to end up with 17 cats in a two bedroom apartment. He doesn't want to live with closed doors with recovering feral cats or litters of untrained kitten on the other side. He doesn't want our home to smell like a barn. He doesn't want our savings to go to dumping thousands of dollars into sick strays. And least of all he doesn't want to see our cats distressed or put into danger to catch diseases. I know he's right and I'm grateful one of us has some sense.

I kept the kitten for a few hours. I managed to get it to take formula from a syringe. Once in awhile Dean would storm in the bedroom, look at the kitten with dismay and say, "It's so f*cking cute. What are we going to do?" I knew he couldn't stay mad forever, but we were also both getting attached already. It was f*cking cute. Around 9:00 Heather called saying she found an experienced rescue group willing to take the kitten. I was a little disappointed. Dean was even more disappointed. "Why are they taking our kitten away?!" he wailed. We knew it was best. And part of me felt soooo not ready to have a kitten again. We are way too busy to feed this thing every few hours and I hated to think of leaving it when it came time to go home for Christmas, it would still only be a few months old.

I came away with this experience faced with a couple issues that needed to be addressed:

1. I knew this wasn't going to be easy. I knew that I might have do things like snuggle kittens I couldn't keep and that I would ultimately have to make responsible decisions if I wanted to keep my sanity. I unfortunately didn't think hard enough about how it would affect Dean. He might not be emotionally ready to do things like snuggle kittens he can't keep. We need to find his comfort zone and I need to respect it.

2. When I started this project, I was willing to do whatever I could to help the kitties. I need to recognize that there may be a difference between what I am physically able to and what I am capable of doing without losing my job, my husband and all my senses. I was so exhausted from the Big Fix that I worked from home Wednesday so I could take a nap without Dr. Hari knowing about it. I was MIA for a couple hours that day. If I would have kept the kitten I would have had to work from home today as well. I can't do things like that on a regular basis if I want to finish my Ph.D.

3. Dean and I needed to set up some definite rules. He wasn't happy I took in the kitten without consulting him. But what if I would have found it myself? Do I need permission to rescue a helpless animal? Good question. We came up with a compromise. If I find a kitten in need, I am to use my best judgement. I can take it in for a maximum of five hours after Dean gets home while I find someone else to take it. You might think this is unreasonable. What if I don't think I can find someone? Then I am to tell Dean not to come home, even it means going to a bar or a hotel. Clearly, these rules are set in place to allow my mean old husband to avoid getting too attached.

It turns out there is something more satisfying than releasing the cats. When I went out there to feed them tonight, I flashed my lantern on a black cat hovering behind a tree, waiting for the food. It had a clipped ear- one of the one I trapped, spayed and released. And it came back.

Okay. Sorry this is so long. There is just a lot going on on the kitty front. Like I said before, I am heavily steeped in this right now and I need to find an equilibrium. Be patient, dear readers. Not a lot of people understand this or why I care so much. You guys seem to get it, and for that I'm truly grateful.

Fix Those Kitties!

Except for one miscue and some miscommunication among humans, the Big Fix went very well.

Heather's friend Kris suggested we start trapping at noon on Sunday. I got a little freaked out about that because Heather said usually trapping is done at dusk when the kitties would be out and hungry- and when residents and management wouldn't be out on the property. But as a novice I was at Kris's mercy and told her to come whenever she wanted. Kris turned out to be the most hyperactive woman I have ever met in my life. No contest. I opened the door to find her wild-eyed and covered with scratches. She is also terribly sweet and dedicated. She did, however, seem a little too excited about finding big tom cats and chopping off their bits.

The traps have two doors, one on each end. One of the doors is attached to a lever mechanism that can raise up a small platform on the bottom of the cage. You place the food slightly under the platform, the cat steps on the platform to get at the food, triggering the door to shut. The other door is to be opened upon feeding and releasing. We set up the five traps behind the dumpster, each trap had a paper plate with about a tablespoon of tuna on it. We stood aside and waited a few minutes. Sure enough, one of the scrawny tuxedo cats came milling around it, sniffing at it. That little asshole managed to slip his skinny paw through the cages and proceeded to scoop out all the tuna in the traps. Then, full and proud of himself, he went and laid in the sun.

"Wow! Yours are much smarter than mine!" I shrugged apologetically, but inside I was a little proud of his ingenuity as well.

The second attempt didn't lure any kitties for awhile. Kris got bored warning it could be hours and decided to go run some errands. I left for maybe a half hour and came back to find two of the traps full. The cats were startled so I got the sheets given to me just for covering them up. I covered them and walked past a still open trap with a kitten in it, eating the tuna. I had eyed this kitten for a few days wondering if it was young enough to be socialized. And it was in my trap. But it was too little to actually trigger the mechanism. It wasn't until the kitten, drunk on tuna, actually laid down in the trap, putting her full weight on the trigger that the door sprung shut. I felt bad for trapping her, but I figured either way she needed to be caught. If she was too young to be fixed we could keep her. If she was old enough, she should be fixed.

It took a couple hours, but finally all the traps were full. And the kitten was the only one I had ever seen before. I wondered if it was the lunch crowd, since my guys don't come out until a little later. Either way, they definitely weren't the five I was expecting.

Kris loaded them in the van and took them all home with her. I was expecting to keep them and then go with her to the clinic the next day, but she said that would be too time consuming.

The kitties got through surgery just fine. Much to Kris's dismay, I ended up catching four girls and only one boy. Again, I was expecting Kris to pick them up from the clinic and drop them with me. She never showed up and I couldn't get a hold of her. I found myself worried about my cats and anxious to see them, make sure with my own eyes they were okay. I called Heather who sensed my apprehension and then we both tried calling Kris several more times.

It wasn't until this afternoon that I heard from her. I told her I was fully expecting to recover the kitties last night as well as tonight. She says that keeping them the night before and the night after the surgery is "part of her deal" and she does it for everyone. She intends to keep them two nights next month as well. Dean was ecstatic. I wasn't as thrilled but if it gets Dean feeling more comfortable with this process so be it.

The kitties are now resting peacefully (and occasionally whining) on the balcony. My kitties are surprisingly well-behaved. They are keeping and eye on the visitors, but there has been no hissing, no puffing up, no spraying, none of the horrific noises I was imagining. They are curious and Nellie gets wildly jealous when I go out there with canned food, apparently a delicacy around here.

In the end, Kris said she thinks the kitten is deceptively small-probably much older than she appears. Dean thinks we simply can't have another cat and I know he's right. And I don't have the time, the energy or the skills to socialize a feral kitten. In the end, she'll have to go back with her cat family and I'll be satisfied knowing I did a good thing for her. But she's soooo cute!