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Mr. Man is still taking his pain meds for his teeth, and they make him sleepy and take away his appetite, but he had his last dose this morning – it sent him under the bed, he hates it so much. Hopefully, he will get back to his happier self, and settle in now. I miss him.
Quote of the Day: “I thought such awful thoughts that I cannot even say them out loud because they would make Jesus want to drink gin straight out of the cat dish.” — Annie Lamott
Road trip with Kelsea
Missing MKL (which means I love him)
Rain that makes lush green mountain valleys reminiscent of Ireland
Here’s the reason I’ve been a bit remiss in posting. It’s not a very good picture….
but this is Mr. Man. He’s 13 1/2 years old, and 17 1/2 pounds and he joined the household today from the Boulder Valley Humane Society. Even though MKL is rather allergic to cats (and claims he can’t eat a whole one), he was intrigued by the idea of having a Maine Coon. They are known as “the dog of the cat world” because of their size and their chill tendencies. Mr. Man is doing quite well for his first night in a strange house (with a strange woman). He did spend part of the evening under the bathtub, but I probably would have too. He’s having a hard time jumping up on the bed, but I don’t know if that’s because it’s high (it is), he’s high (he is, on pain medications since he had four teeth extracted yesterday) or he just needs to figure it all out. I may have to get him a step stool if he wants to snuggle in the bed.
So, right now, he is consuming me – not literally, but mentally. He’s a love and I’m so happy.
You scratch. Well, this charming goat scratches.
The zephyr winds of spring twirled down Blake Street today as MKL and I walked. It was lovely.
Quote of the day: “Within every woman there is a wild and natural creature, a powerful force, filled with good instincts, passionate creativity, and ageless knowing.” — Clarissa Pinkola Estes
The port-a-pottys sailing through the sky this afternoon
Cats on fences
The idea of a pink moon
Feeling like Sisyphus finally pushing the rock over that hill
I do believe this a badger. Not a honey badger, but a badger nonetheless. Please correct me if I’m wrong. I know badgers are mean critters, but this one is pretty cute.
Quote of the day: “Sometimes we make love with our eyes. Sometimes we make love with our hands. Sometimes we
make love with our bodies. Always we make love with our hearts.” – Author unknown
Nice walks on sunny days
The dream-bombing yellow dog (named Dog)
Kelsea and I went to Pugs in the Park in City Park (Denver) today. Hundreds of pugs, a costume contest, and if I didn’t know better, I’d have thought that Amanda of The Daily Puglet was there shooting with Nikon. (But I think she’s on the right coast.) This not-so-little guy was dressed as “a pirate, but he didn’t like his hat very much.
Quote of the day: “Wrinkles should only indicate where smiles have been.” – Mark Twain
Time with Kelsea
Drives with MKL
These two beauties are from “Horse Day” which happened with my sister-in-law last weekend. MKL and I are just back from a busy, lovely weekend – we need an extra day to recover, but isn’t that so often the way?
Larimer County, Colorado.
Quote of the day: ”No Spring nor Summer has such grace as I have seen in an Autumned face.” – John Donne
Winding mountain roads
Unexpected Amish people
Truck stop coffee
Soaking in hot springs
I have no idea what attracted the attention of this little flock, but they were obviously enraptured. As I seem to be in a phase in which I am totally enamored with poultry, I bid you a good weekend with this image.
Llanhennock, Monmouthshire, Wales.
Quote of the day: ”It is our duty as men and women to proceed as though the limits of our abilities do not exist.” – Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
The big red ball of sun this morning
Realizing that pigeons are, in fact, pigeon-toed
Keeping random hilarious thoughts to myself
My pink orchid earrings
A weekend respite with MKL
I’m not whining, but I do want to share.
Roscoe’s injury has hit me hard. Not as hard as it has hit him, obviously, since he’s the one who had a nine-inch stick in his body cavity for a week and almost died, not me. But in an emotional way, hard.
I’m at the vet now, sitting on the bed that he’s become attached to here, typing this. He has his upper body curled against my leg, and is sleeping peacefully, breathing normally for the first time that I’ve seen since the injury. He was dreaming a bit, his paws twitching like dogs do when they’re chasing something in their sleep, and he just gave a big contented sigh. Nothing is waking him – not my sneezes, not the barking dogs in the treatment room, or the voices of the staff. He’s peaceful. I cuddled him and sang him all the lullabies I used to sing to Kelsea when she was a baby.
He still has the pump in his side. They upped his antibiotic dosage, and so the incision sites are cooler, and he is much more alert. The shaved spot is the size of many other dogs, so he may have to wear a t-shirt when he gets home, which I always think looks adorable on dogs. But he’s still not eating and not drinking. He did covertly eat the food I brought yesterday sometime in the middle of the night, so I brought some more for him today. They gave him two liters of electrolyte IV solution earlier to help him keep hydrated and his body just soaked it up like a sponge.
I don’t even want to imagine what the bill will be. I don’t care. I can’t really afford it anyway. But you do what you’ve got to do. The vet – Arapahoe Animal Hospital in Boulder – has been fabulous. All the doctors and all the techs here know Roscoe now and love him. They want him to live here with them and be their vet pet. (Sorry guys, we got him first.) It reminds me of when Kelsea was first born. That first night, they took her away and told me they’d bring her back for me to nurse her. I woke up seven hours later with no baby and no one answering the bell. I wondered if something had happened and I was the last person alive. So I hobbled out to the nurse’s station, and said, “Um, excuse me, do you know where my daughter is?” “Oh, Kelsea?” they said, “She was so sweet that we just decided to keep her here with us at the nurse’s station.” Sweetness must run in the family.
So, Roscoe is getting better and is going to be okay. And that’s all the news that really matters.
But now we come to me. Yes, wussy me. I am so exhausted energetically from caring from him from a distance, emotionally from worrying about him, and physically from not sleeping well at my ex-husband’s house while I care for the other animals that I can hardly tell which way is up. Sitting with my puppy while he sleeps, along with this wiped out feeling, is totally taking me back to taking care of my mom the week before she died. I was up all the time, sleeping in strange places, showering when I had a second, snarfing food when I could, sitting with her all the time because I could. (I haven’t been able to do that with Roscoe all the time.) This zombie-like functional state is so familiar in my bones from that time with my Mother that it’s giving me flashbacks to a most tenderly painful episode in my life – her death. I never thought I would feel that way again. I couldn’t have told you exactly what it felt like until now, when I’m experiencing it again. And now it is flooding back in a strange, disjointed, poignant way.
I will deal with my own feelings, and it will be fine. I will be fine, just like Roscoe will be fine.
But it is strange to wander in this strange land again.
Photo for January 11, 2012: Nom Nom Nommy Nom
This little Hawaiian guy loved his morning honey.
I know it’s technically January 12, but since I’m still up (just finished working), I felt compelled to post. At least I did one thing today that WASN’T about working.
Quote of the Day: “Remember how great you feel when your life is filled with love and joy and health and creativity? This is how our lives are meant to be lived.” – Louise Hay
That the snow wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
My morning bus driver who I have secretly nicknamed Eyeore.
Picking up Kelsea after her homework time at Starbucks.