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Archive for the ‘open letters of a various and sundry nature’ Category

so. there’s that.

it’s a habit i’ve fallen out of, that’s for sure. i don’t have as much time to myself as i once did, and the blog suffers like some kind of unloved stepchild. plus, we are once again minus an interweb connection at the house (i’m blaming the brats in particular, and verizon in general) (i’m typing this on my phone. that’s how hardcore i am).

none of this is a valid excuse. bear with me, and i’ll get there. if you’ve got better things to do, i totally understand.

as always, thanks for stopping by.

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so, i had a cat.

last picture of ophelia thunderpaws

last picture of ophelia thunderpaws

she was an awesome being. seriously, when i think about her personality, and the quirks she had, i smile. she was the only cat i ever met who would burp. and eat crackers. and fetch. and snore. losing her was tough. i had raised her from the tender age of six weeks. she would have been 11 this past june.

i got a tattoo for her.

paws and dirt marks. naturally

paws and dirt marks. naturally

not that i need help remembering. but paw prints on my left shoulder (where she was laying where she died), inked three months after her death, seemed appropriate. they are also right in the path of my bra, which made things really uncomfortable for a few weeks.

anyway.

i had thoughts of getting another pet. i didn’t think i could get another cat. just petting neighborhood cats was enough to make me tear up. i really wanted a bunny. i looked into the rabbit rescue, and gave the whole thing serious thought.

then i found out someone who worked at my same hospital was giving up her dog. and was giving him back to the pound.

this picture makes me dissolve into baby talk

not a bunny, that’s for sure. but, how could you not love that face?

i took our resident dog, bentley, a few times to the dog park to meet this hansome man. his name is mario. his person was an absolute flake. we’d make plans for the dogs to hang out, to make sure they were okay with one another, and she’d forget. or show up a few hours late. seriously, i’d complain to anyone who would listen, about how this woman was wasting my time. there were a few episodes that made me want to stop thinking about this dog, and just get a bunny.

however.

mario came to live with me just before the fourth of july. he’s mellow. he’s goofy. he’s the alpha dog. he won my black little heart over.

dig that spotted tongue

dig that spotted tongue

he’s a bull mastiff mix. also, due to that tongue up there, i also believe him to be of chow descent. plus, he’s a fan of knitting. and oingo boingo.

happy dog

happy dog

he doesn’t really bark, but he does a lot of grunting. he chases cats, but we’re working on that. he rolls his eyes, and is laying on my leg as i type. so far, he seems to like kung fu movies the best.

it's almost impossible to take a picture of one and not the other

it's almost impossible to take a picture of one and not the other

and he’s pretty good with bentley’s spastic ways. he treats him the way an older brother would treat a younger, slightly disabled sibling. which is close enough to reality to make me giggle.

just waiting for the temperature to drop

just waiting for the temperature to drop

he won’t allow bentley on the bed. when he sleeps, he snores. loung enough to be heard through the whole house. and with enough force to shake the bed. even when he’s laying on the floor. he gets the hiccups nearly every morning. i’ve successfully scared them out of him, which makes him wag his tail and grunt approvingly.

when he hears the alarm go off, he grunts and sticks him nose in my face. he head butts me until i get up.

he's as cuddly as he looks

he's as cuddly as he looks

he wags his tail in a circular manner.

i have no idea if ophelia would approve of him. she spent her life around various dogs, both canine and human. she dominated all of them. i think she would have dominated mario, but she would have napped with him after.

he’s no kitten, that’s for sure.

interrupting the nap is punishable by head-butting

interrupting the nap is punishable by head-butting

but he’s the perfect act to follow her.

thanks for stopping by.

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hi. i’m still here.

i have no good excuse for not posting in such a long time. other than, there may have been some drinking.

the hooch of choice in triple digit weather

the hooch of choice in triple digit weather

there may have also been some shenanigans.

stealing my sunglasses. and my sippy cup

stealing my sunglasses. and my sippy cup

also, there may have been a new addition to my little army.

mario in the front, bentley in the back

mario in the front, bentley in the back

i have missed you, internet.

here’s the thing. i really like the internet. like, as something more than a friend. you can type the most random of phrases into your search engine of choice, and spend a few hours giggling at what is retrieved. i mean, who knew there was a blog dedicated to cakes gone wrong? or a woman that will induce you to scream WOLVERINE!! for no good reason? not to mention all the crazy stuff you can find on youtube. which i’m convinced is its own little internet.

i have met great people through my computer. some of them i have even met in real life. and, so far, most of them have not been creepy stalkers. the internet has this amazing power to connect people and spread factoids. you can send your mom flowers, and then find a strip club. all within five minutes. it’s incredible.

anyway.

life, as they say, is what happens when you’re making other plans. i will try to post more regularly. but there’s knitting to accomplish, alcohol to be consumed with friends, and a dog who grunts and demands i rub his belly. and a heat wave to avoid amidst all that other stuff.

but, as always, thanks for stopping by. and not giving up on me. is appreciated.

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here’s the thing. i love living in the portland area. there is so much lunacy to be had. there are drag queens, yarn shops, and strange eateries scattered all about the area code.

but, what we don’t have? erik’s deli.

during my high school years, i lived in santa cruz, california. a lovely pocket of nuttiness, where i’m still convinced all the hippies go to die. i’m not being mean, i’m just saying. it’s a very mellow area, and it’s a beautiful pocket of landscape. also, they have these signs at the city limits that say “santa cruz is a nuclear-free zone”.

i wish i had pictures to prove it.

one of the great things about santa cruz – i mean, besides living so close to the ocean that i could hear the waves crashing at night in my bedroom – were the delis. there were a fair few awesome delis. we had togo’s, dharma’s cafe (which used to be called mcdharma’s, but they changed it because of that other mc-place giving them the serious side eye), and that little place around the corner from our house, to name a few. as an aside, the place around the corner from our house? really good food. but one of the guys in the back? gave me the straight-up creeps. he always wore his apron. even while waiting for the bus. and he would stare you down. i’m sure he was a nice guy who treated his pets really well, but he freaked my teenage self out.

anyway.

erik’s is awesome. they have amazing food. their menu items have amazing names (seriously, you can order a knuckle sandwich there. it’s cream cheese, salami and sprouts on dark russian rye. sooooo good). it was all healthy. they had the best brownies in the universe. and if you ate there, your drink came in a mason jar. i don’t think erik’s could have happened anywhere else. although, technically, their first place was in scott’s valley. but that’s right up the freeway from santa cruz, and it totally counts.

i bring this up because tonight i was at my yoga class. and the instructor and i were talking about favorite sandwiches. she mentioned this amazing-sounding concoction she’d sweet-talked a bar cook into making her. there was bacon, cheese, avocado and tomato in a pita pocket. it sounded so good. and it made me think of my favorite sandwich at erik’s, the natural high. when i told her about this sandwich, she asked, where do they make that? it sounds fabulous. i sighed and said, at erik’s. in santa cruz. i’d love a natural high, with a berry calistoga to drink.

portland has failed me. and through no fault of its own. there’s nothing that comes close to that here, at least in my opinion. i was even looking around on their website. thinking, please let them have a deli in yreka (pronounced why-reek-a). that’s just across the oregon-california border. i can go there on friday. sadly, they haven’t left the bay area.

my point is this. if you live in the vicinity of an erik’s… dude, you’re so lucky. if you have no idea what i’m talking about… dude, you’re missing out. if you’re looking for a franchise to start in oregon… dude, give erik a call. he’ll hook you up.

basically, i’m just hungry. thanks for stopping by.

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ophelia thunderpaws

mah bubbeh

mah bubbeh

time of death: friday, march 13, 2009. 9:15pm

i just couldn’t let her suffer anymore.

y’all excuse me for a bit.

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so, yeah.

… do you ever have those times where you don’t even know where to begin? i’m having one of those times.

this week, kitten has been lethargic. not herself. slightly out of breath and exhausted. but then, she’s 10. which is, like, 60 in cat years. i took her into the vet. which was a feat in and of itself. i don’t deal with veterinarians. not because i don’t have the money or anything like that. but… my cat, she is aggressive. the last vet asked me to not bring her back.

don't come back unless you're covered in bacon

don't come back unless you're covered in bacon

she’s a spitfire, really.

so, i take her to the vet. who tells me to run, not walk, to the animal emergency room down the road. who whisk her away while i’m filling out papers. and then usher me into a little room, where a much nicer vet asks me a bunch of questions about kitten, and tells me he has no idea what could be wrong with her. while we’re sitting there, some tech is testing her blood. a normal red blood cell count (these are the cells that carry oxygen from your lungs to the rest of your body) for a cat is 40-50% of the total blood volume.

my cat, when i brought her in? about 7%. not good, y’all.

so, they stick her in a oxygenated cubby and wrap her in a fleece blanket. i’m a bit hysterical, so they ask me to go home, and they’ll call me with updates. the updates are the best part of my day. the cliff notes version of things: she’s had a transfusion from one of the donor kitties in residence at the hospital (the idea of live-in donors knocks me out), and is doing well. x-rays have shown some stuff in her stomach, which could be food. or not, it’s hard to tell. they’ve run a few blood tests, and are waiting to hear back from pathology. she has a kitty IV. she’s biting the staff, which is normal behavior for her (she’s fixed and aggressive. she’s the awesome). she’s eating and drinking, which she wasn’t earlier. they’re keeping her, at least overnight, to monitor her. i visited with her earlier, and it was clear that she was happy to see me, not so happy to be staying, but resigned to hanging out for the night. i scratched and rubbed her normal spots until she drifted off to dozing land.

we know it’s not feline AIDS, we know it’s not leukemia. i’m pretty sure it’s a liver or kidney problem. i’m hoping to be wrong. i know it’s a major thing, whatever her illness. i’m just kind of hoping it’s little major, and not big major. i already know her hospital stay is pricey. we’re amazingly lucky i have the money sitting in an account.

they can rebuild her. they have the technology.

(insert six million dollar man sound effects here)

(insert six million dollar man sound effects here)

i can’t even begin to tell you all how absolutely terrified i am of losing my cat. my burping, farting cat who cleans herself loudly when company’s over. who will poop on people she really doesn’t like. who head butts me most mornings. who crawls into the knitting basket for extended naps, and curls up next to my shoulder when i’m reading in bed. the cat who seems to really dig hip hop, buries her face in my hair when i’ve used that one shampoo, and sometimes licks my nose is what has to be her version of a kiss.

the cat who, probably right now, is whacking at some technician while they try to check on her IV line. as is her way.

"i fart in your general direction, kniggit"

"i fart in your general direction, kniggit"

i’ve been asking the universe most of the day to help me out here. to let me have my crazy little cat restored to me. what really has me bent out of shape is the fact that, whatever she has, it’s a chronic thing. meaning it’s been going on for longer than the last week. which makes me feel like an absolutely bad person. surely, i should have seen something before now, if i was any kind of a mom. i know that animals hide their illnesses, and really, i did the best thing for her by rushing her to the hospital instead of letting the non-hospital doc run tests and adapt a wait-and-see attitude. i’m upset that the first vet – the non-hospital guy – made me feel like an animal abuser, saying that i should have seen that something was wrong sooner (yes, he really did say that. kitten tried to poop on him, but she was too weak).

anyway. i’m distracted. my furry baby is really ill. i can only visit her three times a day.

the once and future crazy

the once and future crazy

leave a message at the beep, is what i’m saying. i’ll get back to you.

kitten says meow. i say, thanks for stopping by.

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when i was graduating from high school, one of the instructors gave a speech that rubbed my cortex the wrong way. every paragraph, it seemed, started with the phrase “a new day is dawning.” it drove me – and a fair percentage of my fellow graduates – bonkers. i mean, it was pretty hot outside. we were sitting in those blue polyester robes and matching hats. it’s a wonder none of us tanked from heat exhaustion.

i digress. i’ve always been a little bitter about having to wear a bit of cardboard on my head to get out of high school.

anyway.

i just came across this article. and, well… i hate to say it, but a new day? it’s kinda… you know…

dawning.

thanks, president dreamboat!

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