Cats are such agreeable friends–-they ask no questions, they pass no criticisms.

“Reda” was a tiny black kitten who was picked up on the street by a City Public Works Employee named Sharon. Sharon was stopped at the signal light when she saw this kitten moving towards traffic. She put her emergency blinkers on and ran over and scooped her up. Knowing Sharon, she just simply stopped traffic to rescue this kitten! Sharon had saved many a stray cat in her rounds. She loved cats and had several of her own. Most of them had come from the parks and open space areas which she helped to maintain.

Sharon brought Reda into our office to see if anyone would be interested in adopting her. She was at her limit at home. I was at my limit too, because the year before, Jezibel had come to live with us and had blessed us with 3 kittens.

Reda was adopted by a friend of mine who worked in my department. We were all happy to see that the kitten would have a home.

I volunteered my services to “babysit” while my friend went away on vacation, etc. Reda was a pretty good kitten. She was pretty small, independent, but not really that demanding. Her eyes were emerald green, close together, and she was solid black.

Over the years I asked how Reda was doing and the answer was “fine”. Reda’s owner and I really didn’t stay in touch much. We both had left that job so we didn’t see each other every day. We remained friends though and I managed to see Reda several times over the years when I kept her.

Then last year, in August, I was asked if I could keep Reda for a couple of weeks. I was told that Miss Reda had been diagnosed with diabetes. We had had a cat, Rowdy, who had diabetes. I expected that Reda would be on pills or insulin, like Rowdy. But, her diabetes was being kept under control with her diet.

My friend brought Reda over. She had nicknamed her “Stormy” or “Storm Cat” because of the way she behaved when she went to the vet.

Reda was a hefty 10 pounds or so and was eating three cans daily of Fancy Feast. Of course, there were certain flavors she could eat which would help her diabetic diet.

She heartily ate a can in the morning, one at lunch time and another at dinner. I thought, ‘if only our Rowdy, who had had diabetes, could have been on a diet like this! He would have been so happy.......’

Rowdy was losing weight when we took him to the vet for tests. He was diagnosed with diabetes, but, like Reda, the doctor wanted to try to control it with diet. With Rowdy, our vet put him on a prescription food, which he did not care for, although he ate. But, he started losing weight, although he ate and/or wanted to eat constantly. He was on a pill, Glipizide. It helped to control his glucose level for awhile, but then he had to go on insulin injections.

It was hard to regulate how much insulin he needed. He had to go to the vet every two weeks, get a blood glucose test and a urine test to test his fructosamine levels. It was hard on us, but even harder on him. But, he did okay and we managed to stabilize his diabetes pretty well, giving him injections of insulin twice a day.

We moved in August 2002 and he made the trip across country pretty well. Of course, we had to get a new doctor who really didn’t know his history and we had to start his insulin treatments all over again. We were using the same amount, but with the trip, new doctor, stress, etc., Rowdy’s blood glucose was out of whack. So, the insulin doses changed constantly. Even though we maintained Rowdy’s visits regularly to the vet, we saw a different vet each time, and they really were not specialists on diabetes in cats. We watched as Rowdy’s health declined. Of course, hind sight is 20/20 and if we had it to do over again, knowing what we now know, we would have taken him to a specialist right away.

Rowdy sometimes did not eat well and it was hard to tell how much insulin he should have. I can’t remember if I gave the insulin before or after eating. I think it’s normally before eating though, although there are times that it should be after.

A diabetic usually injects insulin prior to a meal because the substance takes between 10 and 45 minutes to start working. Injecting it after a meal means blood sugar spikes before the insulin has time to counteract it. However, there are some circumstances in which it makes sense to inject insulin after a meal.

Finally on December 31, 2002, after he ate his dinner that night, Rowdy went into a semi-comatose state. We still don’t know if his injection was too much or just why he had that reaction. We rushed him to emergency. They took him in and kept him for the night. I really thought I would see him again.

The next morning about 10:00, the vet called and said that there was nothing they could do for Rowdy. They could send him home, but he was not stable. Charlie went in and said good-bye for both of us. I could not go. Rowdy was my “boy, boy”, my “baby boy”. I loved him like nothing else. He was the first cat that Charlie and I had had together. What a loss for us. Our first.

The other day I talked to my friend. She was taking a trip out of the country and asked if Reda could come and stay with us. She brought her over on Wednesday. Reda was supposed to be with us for two weeks.

When we got her, she had not been eating. My friend gave me her daughter’s phone number (in Ohio) and said to contact her if Reda was really sick and had to go to the vet. She would have the authority to make any decisions we needed to make.

Reda did not eat at all that first day. I decided to take her to her vet the next day since that would be where her records were. The vet did a glucose test. It was 374. The normal is 120. He said “she needs to be on insulin”. I said, “Her owner does not want to put her on insulin”. He hydrated her and I brought her home. She still did not eat that afternoon.

We called our vet and asked her what we should do. She said it may be something unrelated to diabetes. She could do a blood panel and urine test, etc. We said we’d bring Reda in the next morning and they could examine her and run the tests. We were hoping maybe it was a bladder infection or something that we could treat and get her eating again.

The vet examined her and found that her breath smelled like acetone. She said Reda was in Diabetic Ketoacidosis (DKA) crisis.

Definition: Diabetic ketoacidosis, aka DKA, is a serious complication of diabetes, which occurs when a very high blood sugar level (above 300 mg/dL) is coupled with a severe shortage of insulin in the body. This is more common in Type I diabetes because the body produces very little or no insulin on it's own. The body starts to break down fat for energy and ketones (toxic acids) develop. People with DKA usually complain of nausea, vomiting, abdominal pain, rapid breathing, and sometimes a fruity odor on their breath. This can lead to coma or death and should be treated by medical personnel immediately.

There was no need for blood tests at this point. The vet said that Reda was a very sick cat. She recommended euthanasia because of Reda’s grave condition.

We got in touch with my friend’s daughter. She said she would call the vet to authorize euthanasia. We called the vet to say that we wanted to be there with Reda when she was euthanized and please call us before doing it so we could come over.

The vet’s office called later and said that they had euthanized Reda right after they received the call from my friend’s daughter, who authorized them. They did not get the message that we wanted to be there.

Charlie went over to get Reda’s carrier. Her toys were still inside. One toy, a little Uncle Sam doll, has been with her for as long as I’ve been babysitting her. The other toy, a little cat angel with wings, is a toy that I gave her for Christmas a few years ago.

Yesterday morning I woke up at 5:30 and listened to the heavy rain on the roof. I thought of Reda. Apparently the “Storm Cat” was not over the bridge yet! Like I said, she was true to her ‘stormy’ personality.

Reda would have been 10 years old this year. She was a good little cat and independent right to the end. When she came to stay with us in better, healthier times, it took a couple of days for her to settle down and not hiss, growl and try to bite a hand that was trying to pet her. When she started craving attention, she would allow the petting and even a little brushing. But, this time, even as sick as she felt, she would allow me to pet her, but then she’d have enough of it and she would growl and “nibble” my hand. Just like old times.

My friend is due to come home on February 28. I'm so sorry that she will be coming home and Reda died while she was gone. I know I would feel terrible if I were gone when one of mine died.

I’m sure she will have talked to her daughter before then and will learn about Reda and she will call me after she gets home. We did what we could for Reda and I don't feel like we could have done more.

But, I want her to know about Reda before she goes to her mail box and finds a condolence card from the vet.

More later.............

The paint fumes got to me.........

This is My World.

I have been painting my computer room this past week. I'm almost done.

Yesterday, I painted a wall and wasn't sure if I was going to have enough paint. I didn't really want to have to buy more, not even a quart. But, even with using the brush, which doesn't absorb as much as the roller, I painstakingly got every bit of paint out of the can. I still didn't have quite enough to finish. All that was left was a small 1x3 ft. area.

So, I went to Home Depot and bought a can of the sample paint for $3.00. It didn't come in the eggshell finish, just flat, but I figured it would be okay since it would be the wall behind my computer desk. Only I will know that it doesn't have that nice eggshell sheen to it.

I finished and only have one wall to go. That wall will be my accent wall, a different color.

Charlie has been playing the World of Warcraft game for several years. He has a couple of friends who he plays with on Tuesday nights......at 9:00 p.m.

The other day (when I was stirring paint), he asked me if I would like to join the group on Tuesday night. I agreed to play for only one hour. One of the other players, Tanis, also plays for an hour. She’s in a different time zone, is working and going to school, so she has to discipline herself.

They had already picked the theme names of “See no evil, Speak no evil, Hear no evil”, so I chose “Be no evil”, except I spelled, "Beano-evil”.

We discussed the fact that my character can have a “pet”. I said “Let's name him ‘Gassy’, or ‘Gas-is-us’, etc. I was making light of it.

I “made” my “toon” last night. She is a ‘Blood Elf’ and actually a pretty one. I picked her hair color, skin color, etc. She is called “Beano”. She was scantily clad when I "made" her. Then Charlie had to "level" her up to a 10 so she would be like the others. When I saw her again, he had fully suited her up.


Charlie’s character “Shevils” is a Goblin:
Erik and Tanis’s characters are Trolls:

We're all hunters.

I decided to practice a little with my character before we played. When I actually saw my pet, I decided to name him “Sammy” because of his ‘salmon’ color. He is a dragon hawk. I became attached right away to Beano and Sammy.

"Sammy"

At 9:00 pm when Erik and Tanis came online, I was ready. We couldn’t get the audio microphone working. We could hear them, but they couldn’t hear us. And then, when we got ready to play, “Hearnoevil”(Shevils Charlie) wasn’t in the right place to play! I, “Beanoevil”, had to run with the other “Evils”. Of course, I just pushed the keys that “Hearnoevil” (Charlie) was telling me to push, and we did okay. I think I only “died” six or seven times. No big deal.

Then, they tried to get some other characters up and running. Apparently, “Beano” was in a location that was hard to get everyone to meet at. They were all in the queue to get there. It was suddenly 10:00 pm and time for me to leave the game. Tanis was going to leave soon too. Charlie and Erik were on their own.

Charlie played my character, “Beano” and “she” did very well. I won’t go into the battle because I do not understand any of this myself. As O’Reilly would say, “I’m a simple (wo)man”.

I have played World of Warcraft (WOW) before, but it’s been awhile. I am amazed at how hard it is to get those characters turned around and going in the right direction. When I first started playing, Charlie’s character, I forgot his name, and my character, “Chaitee”, went out and killed things. I was so uncoordinated! But, it was fun and I can see how people who play this game get so addicted to it.......yes, addicted:

Don't believe me? This guy is a Blood Elf wannabe. He's one of the "tamer" ones I found.

If I could sit and play for hours and not worry about how stiff I would be in the morning, then halleleula, I would find something almost as good as a hollodeck! But, it hasn’t happened yet and until it does, I will not really have to learn how to fight the dragons, bobcats, and other animals that make me go ........WOW!

The game is good, clean fun and I will commit myself to playing an hour each Tuesday. I will fight the urge to get addicted though. It is an escape of sorts, but my favorite escape is sitting with a cat on my lap and one or two beside me, a dog at my feet, a glass of wine, reading a book or magazine or “shopping”, turning down pages, in one of my many junk mail catalogues. Now that’s entertainment!

More later..........

"Guess How Much I Love You........"

July 2009

Last Christmas Charlie made and gave me a collection of home movies and pictures of Taz. There were three DVD’s. One was a “bonus” tape. I couldn’t bring myself to watch them right away. I was finally able to watch the first two last month. I was missing Taz so much and wanted to see him again in our happier days. The tapes were hard to watch, but I enjoyed them. They brought back happy memories.

Last night I decided to watch my “bonus” tape. It was definitely that--a bonus.

I had forgotten about a tape that I had made for Charlie several years ago when he was transferred back to Pennsylvania and I was here. I actually made several tapes during that time of me and the cats and Chelsi and sent them to him.

One tape that I made was of me reading Tazzy a “bedtime” story. The name of the book was “Guess How Much I Love You” by Sam McBratney.

Tazzy was 3 or 4 years old at the time. I put him on a blanket behind me on the fireplace hearth, where he happily stayed and I sat on the floor in front of him. I used his name and my name in place of the character’s, (i.e. Tazzy, instead of Little Nutbrown Hare and Mommy, instead of Big Nutbrown Hare). It went something like this:

"Tazzy, who was going to bed, held on tight to Mommy’s very long ears. He wanted to be sure that Mommy was listening. “Guess how much I love you.” he said.

“Oh, I don’t think I could guess that,” said Mommy.

“This much,” said Tazzy, stretching out his arms as wide as they could go.

Mommy had even longer arms. “But I love you this much”, she said.

Hmm, that is a lot, thought Tazzy. “I love you as high as I can reach,” said Tazzy.

“I love you as high as I can reach,” said Mommy.

That is very high, thought Tazzy. I wish I had arms like that. Then Tazzy had a good idea. He tumbled upside down and reached up the cat tree with his feet. “I love you all the way up to my toes!” he said.

“And I love you all the way up to your toes,” said Mommy, swinging him up over her head.

“I love you as high as I can jump!” laughed Tazzy, bouncing up and down.

“But I love you as high as I can jump,” smiled Mommy–and she jumped so high that her ears touched the branches above.

That’s good jumping, thought *Tazzy. I wish I could jump like that. “I love you all the way down the lane as far as the river,” cried Tazzy.

“I love you across the river and over the hills,” said Mommy.

That’s very far, thought Tazzy. He was almost too sleepy to think anymore. Then he looked beyond the rose bushes, out into the big dark night. Nothing could be farther than the sky. “I love you right up to the moon,” he said, and closed his eyes.

“Oh, that’s far,” said Mommy. “That is very, very far.”

Mommy settled Tazzy into his favorite green blanket. She leaned over and kissed him good night. Then she lay down next to him and whispered with a smile,

“I love you right up to the moon—and back.”

I bought that book because when I read it at the book store, it said everything about how we feel about all of our babies. I think about the ones who are not here now, except in our hearts.....Rowdy, Calvin, Chelsi, Grady, Taz, and even others before them.....and how each one of them made us laugh and of course, just fall in love with them.

Taz and Grady
10-6-03

Grady passed away one year ago today. It just doesn’t seem that long ago, although time has helped and it will help eventually when I think of him and Taz and maybe not get a lump in my throat each time.

Thank you, Charlie, for putting together our visual memories of Taz. I know you love him and the other babies as much as I do.

More Later.........

*In real life, Tazzy could jump very high. I've seen him jump to the top of a 6' high fence, from standing still, next to the fence....no running starts.

Beam me up Scottie! Or is it, "Who's on first?"

Jonesie and his BFF, Jason

I’m getting closer to painting my computer room. Over the past year, my goal was to get all of the walls inside the house painted. The only rooms left now are my computer room and the upstairs bathroom.

Today Charlie unloaded 4 bookcases, each 6 feet tall. I had photo albums, magazines and other items on two of them:

The other two were loaded down with my Avon products: That will be another project later.

While making space in the walk-in closet, to temporarily put these items from the bookcases, we discovered my Collector’s Edition of STAR TREK The Next Generation VHS tapes, in star date order, no less. They’ve been packed away in the closet since we moved back into this house in July 2004.

I collected these tapes over a number of years, anxiously waiting for that next tape to arrive. With shipping and taxes, I paid $25 for each tape at the time. There are two episodes on each tape. Charlie quickly figured in his head that the collection had cost me $2100.

I decided to put them on Craig’s List for a much more modest amount. Maybe there’s a “trekkie” out there somewhere who wants all 7 seasons of the show.

Charlie discovered his beloved baseball card collection. Not so beloved anymore I guess, because he put them on Craig’s List as well.

Yes, that closet held true treasure.......for someone, hopefully.

Last November we hired someone to paint the dining room, living room and master bedroom. The ceilings are so high that there was no way I was going to climb a ladder and try to do it. Also the wall which is by the stairs would be a problem.

The painter was hired for his labor only. I was to buy the paint. I bought the amount that I was told would be needed for the job. I now have one gallon of green paint (“April Mist”) and one gallon of burgundy paint (“Heirloom”) left over. Both are unopened.

I called Home Depot to see if they would give me at least half credit for each gallon and they said “No”. I was hoping they would take them back since I saw an “Oops” table in the paint section one time. They were selling paint that had been mixed wrong for half price.

It’s a shame to throw these unopened gallons of paint out, (not to mention $80 down the hazardous household waste drain) so it looks like my computer room will be the same color as the master bedroom, “April Mist”and my bookcases will be “Heirloom”. But, I think they will look fine.

I’m looking forward to getting that paint brush and roller back in my hand. It’s such a feeling of accomplishment to take a white, bare wall and transform it into a.....colored, bare wall.

The "after" pictures will be posted later.

All for now.........

I like driving around with my two dogs, especially on the freeways. I make them wear little hats so I can use the car-pool lanes. ~ Monica Piper

This afternoon I took some old electronics, light bulbs and batteries down to the household waste facility. I was coming home and had stopped at the end of the off ramp. While I was waiting for the signal light, I saw a couple of little white dogs running along the sidewalk across the street. They stopped and played a little, then continued rambling on. I looked to see if anyone was nearby. They were not on a leash, but both looked like they had collars on. They were coming near the on ramp. Cars were turning to go on the ramp and were not slowing down, as normal people would if they saw two dogs so close to the street. Just as my light turned green, I saw that the dogs were starting to walk up the side of the on ramp, towards the freeway.

I turned and went down to the next light, U-turned and came back. When I got up the ramp, three other cars had stopped. I pulled up and they asked me if the dogs were mine. I said no, but I had a kennel in my car and we could get them in there where they’d be safe.

One of the men had managed to get a rope around the neck of the older dog. She seemed afraid and wouldn’t let us check her collar. The lady was on the phone to the highway patrol. She asked me to talk to them. I spoke with the dispatcher and said that I was going to try to get the dogs in my kennel and find the owner. She asked if they were biting and I said no. She got my name and phone number and we said good-bye.

I asked where the other dog was and one of the people had put him in the car. That dog was pretty friendly. When they brought him out of the car, the other dog settled down and started wagging her tail. I took hold of the rope/leash and she walked to the back of my car with me, all the while watching to see if the other dog was coming. I lifted her up and put her in the kennel along with the other one.

I had to go on up the ramp and enter the freeway, so I went to the next exit to turn around. I stopped at a parking lot. I gave the dogs some water and the young one “Joey” allowed me to see his collar. I got the phone number and address. The other dog’s name was “Bambi”. I tried to call the number on the tag, but there was no answer and no answering service to leave a message.

So, I thought, I’ll call home and get Charlie to look up the address and get the directions for me. I could just drive the dogs home. Charlie hardly ever leaves the house during the day. He is usually upstairs at his computer. You can imagine my surprise when no one answered the phone! I hung up and dialed again, but still no answer.

Then I tried to call my friend, Kim, at work. She also did not answer. I decided to just drive home and look the address up myself.

On the way I thought the address was kind of familiar and I thought I’d probably seen it while I walked in our neighborhood. Since the dogs were on the east side of I-805, I assumed they came from one of the houses nearby.

I started home and drove down a couple of streets. Soon I found the address on the dogs’ tags. I had walked by that street many times when I used to walk that route every day.

I went to the house, but no one was there. The gates were locked and there were signs on both gates which said “Please do not leave these gates open”. The gates were not open, so I don’t know how the dogs got out.

I thought of checking with the neighbors, but since the gates were locked, we wouldn’t have been able to get the dogs in the yard anyway. I decided to leave a note with my name and number. I brought the dogs home with me and left them in the kennel. I rolled all of the windows down and put some water in the kennel. I tried to give them a Milk Bone, but they were not interested.

Charlie was home. He had picked that particular time to take Sheila out for a run. Talk about timing.

Their owner called later in the afternoon. She sounded frantic. I took them home.

I met the dogs’ owner, Joyce and her daughter, Victoria. Apparently they were keeping the dogs for Joyce’s son, who was working out of town.

We were standing in the driveway talking. Joyce was holding “Bambi”. “Bambi” is “Joey’s” mother. Victoria was holding “Joey”. Joyce asked Victoria to check the gate. She walked over there with “Joey”. “Bambi” started panting and getting excited, just like she was when the man had put “Joey” in his car.

I asked how old “Joey” was and was told that he was about 1-1/2 years old. I thought, boy, “Bambi” sure is still protective of him.

That’s quite different than cats are with their kittens. When Jezibel’s kittens were 1 year old, she acted like she didn’t know them, much less, was their mother!

So, everything ended well. Joyce and Victoria were happy, “Bambi” and her baby boy, “Joey” were happy, I was happy, and the crisis was over. All taken care of and if I’d never mentioned it, no one would even know that the day was saved......except the five of us.......since I couldn’t get anyone on the phone when I needed them.

All in a day’s work.

More later........