Wednesday, March 12. Merry Andre Five Angels decides it is time to leave us. He departed quietly and is now romping and rolling with him mom, Tia Dalma, and his five Angel brothers and sisters.
You brought eleven months of joy and laughter to us Merry, it was an honor.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Tia Dalma's kitten - Merry Five Angels
And this evil Feline Leukemia is hitting Merry the past few days in a way. With a weaken immune system these kitties are susceptible to secondary infections. Merry has one we're treating - inflamed salivary glands. They are so swollen you can see the ducts. Our Vet, bless her, tries so hard. Merry had to be bumped up to Baytril injections as the Clavamox made him so sick. We're doing fluids too. Today he did want food, so we didn't have to syringe feed him.
He's such a joy and every day is a blessing with him, we just want him to feel good again.
He's such a joy and every day is a blessing with him, we just want him to feel good again.
Merry Five Angels
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Almost the New Year!
Yes, almost 2008, I never dreamed I'd make it to this century, much less almost through the first decade.
Our last sad time for 2007, our precious Feline Leukemia cat, Tia Dalma, went to the bridge on December 13, 2007 due to a very fast growing tumor in her sinuses. Nothing stopped it, nothing slowed it down. She was loved by all who met her.
Our last sad time for 2007, our precious Feline Leukemia cat, Tia Dalma, went to the bridge on December 13, 2007 due to a very fast growing tumor in her sinuses. Nothing stopped it, nothing slowed it down. She was loved by all who met her.
A New Merry Video
Just took a new video of Merry, first since his Mom, Tia Dalma, passed away on the 13th. There's no sound, just him being cute on his cat tree.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Sunday, October 7, 2007
October 6 - Two Days till Disneyland!
This morning, in the kitchen, as I poured my first cup of coffee, I noticed the nice smell of bananas. We went by Tigermart Farms last evening to buy a few organically grown fruits and some buffalo meat. We gave up on “store bought” bananas, they are always so hard and there’s not much taste. But these are Good.
As I stood at the counter this morning, the banana smell took me back to a distance memory. That smell always does. It takes me back to…kindergarten! I went to a private kindergarten cause in the late 50’s in AZ there were no public school K grades. My Mom always packed my lunch as she couldn’t pick me up till the middle of the afternoon. And it seems now that my lunch box always had in it:
A small thermos of milk
Some sort of sandwich
A banana
I never ever smell bananas I don’t remember those rooms and my teacher, who’s name was Teddy Bear (really the owners name was Bear and Teddy was their daughter, my Mom reminded me of that when I was older). We called her Miss Bear.
Which leads to two more kindergarten memories:
Graduation! We actually had a graduation ceremony. And we girls were taught how to cancan so on graduation night danced, sang “Buffalo Girls Won’t You Come Out Tonight” and I was the lead singer, probably cause I was the Loudest. I was always the Loudest. My Mom and sister and I always sang while riding in the car so maybe I was the only one who could really carry a tune? Naw, I was the Loudest.
And second, I hated being in school. I wanted to be outside. I carried this little problem with me through 12 years of public school and on to college.
As I stood at the counter this morning, the banana smell took me back to a distance memory. That smell always does. It takes me back to…kindergarten! I went to a private kindergarten cause in the late 50’s in AZ there were no public school K grades. My Mom always packed my lunch as she couldn’t pick me up till the middle of the afternoon. And it seems now that my lunch box always had in it:
A small thermos of milk
Some sort of sandwich
A banana
I never ever smell bananas I don’t remember those rooms and my teacher, who’s name was Teddy Bear (really the owners name was Bear and Teddy was their daughter, my Mom reminded me of that when I was older). We called her Miss Bear.
Which leads to two more kindergarten memories:
Graduation! We actually had a graduation ceremony. And we girls were taught how to cancan so on graduation night danced, sang “Buffalo Girls Won’t You Come Out Tonight” and I was the lead singer, probably cause I was the Loudest. I was always the Loudest. My Mom and sister and I always sang while riding in the car so maybe I was the only one who could really carry a tune? Naw, I was the Loudest.
And second, I hated being in school. I wanted to be outside. I carried this little problem with me through 12 years of public school and on to college.
Our vet, and client, in Houston sent me these :0)
Haiku Written by Cats
The food in my bowl is old,
and more to the point
contains no tuna.
There's no dignity
in being sick - which is why
I don't tell you where.
Tiny can, dumped in
a plastic bowl.
Presentation: one star;
Service: none.
Am I in your way?
You seem to have it backwards:
This pillow is taken.
Your mouth is moving;
up and down, emitting noise.
I've lost interest.
My brain: walnut-sized.
Yours: largest among primates.
Yet, who leaves for work?
Cats can't steal the breath
of children. But if my tail's
pulled again, I'm going to learn how.
I don't mind being
teased, any more than you mind
a skin graft or two.
So you call this thing
your "cat carrier." I call
these my "blades of death."
Toy mice, dancing yarn,
meowing sounds. I'm convinced:
You're an idiot.
The food in my bowl is old,
and more to the point
contains no tuna.
There's no dignity
in being sick - which is why
I don't tell you where.
Tiny can, dumped in
a plastic bowl.
Presentation: one star;
Service: none.
Am I in your way?
You seem to have it backwards:
This pillow is taken.
Your mouth is moving;
up and down, emitting noise.
I've lost interest.
My brain: walnut-sized.
Yours: largest among primates.
Yet, who leaves for work?
Cats can't steal the breath
of children. But if my tail's
pulled again, I'm going to learn how.
I don't mind being
teased, any more than you mind
a skin graft or two.
So you call this thing
your "cat carrier." I call
these my "blades of death."
Toy mice, dancing yarn,
meowing sounds. I'm convinced:
You're an idiot.
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