Alone … kind of

September 6, 2024September 6, 2024 / still a dreamer / 2 Comments

If you love animals, chances are good that you are never alone. Whether you have people around you or not, we animal lovers likely have a pet keeping us company. Some think that doesn’t count, but it counts a great deal.

I was thinking this morning; Jazzy passed away nearly two months ago. She was the only animal in the house, and having no little four-footeds padding about is a big change. Of course, we need time to mourn and miss an animal who is no longer with us. But then came an interesting stage which I had not expected. As I cleaned each room in anticipation of a new resident, I noticed that cat hair was not coming back – seemingly an obvious outcome, right?

However, it was an unknown pleasure as I sat down to write each morning … there was never cat hair on the couch. Never. Hmmm …. I could get used to this, I thought, knowing even as it crossed my mind, that I never would.

When I was 20, a junior in college, I took a drive upstate with a friend to visit her former art teacher. The place was a sprawling shambles with cats everywhere, and I mean everywhere. There may have been 30, 40 or more – different ages, appearances, states of health, and none neutered. In the house were two mothers nursing litters, and though I hadn’t planned on it, I took one of those kittens home — an adorable grey polydactl who I named Pharaoh. It soon became apparent that she had distemper. Thanks to the kindness of a local vet, she pulled through, likely the only one of that litter to survive. Pharaoh lived to a healthy 18-1/2 years old, my first pet as an adult.

Since that time, my house has never been without a cat and/or dog except for a week or so after Claude passed away. And even then, there were my next door buddies, Pumpkin and Cloudy, always visiting. Here we are now, at the next stage, looking for the cat who’ll restore that wonderful animal energy to a house where a purr has been sorely missing.

Stillness – the Lighter Side

August 21, 2014 / still a dreamer / 23 Comments

I was thinking about my last post on Stillness, and something came into my head. I’d written a post on stillness about 7 years ago but from a very different angle – a lighter and more humorous one. So for those of you who weren’t checking me out back then, here’s a revisit of something I learned about relaxation, a corollary of stillness. Pictured is my handsome Claude, still missed, the Master of Relaxation.

Have you ever noticed the positions your animals get into? They make it look as if they invented the word `relax’. They stretch out, especially in the heat, so every potential draft will ease slowly over their languid bodies. They make it look so damn easy.
Now you might think that this is a comment on my own inability to relax, which is far from the truth. In fact, it brings to mind an experience of many moons ago when my then-husband came home to find me lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling or into space. He asked what was I doing?
I said “nothing.”
With an incredulous look on his face, he said, “What do you mean, nothing?”
“I mean nothing. I’m doing nothing. As in, nothing.” Seemed pretty clear to me.
“How could you just be doing nothing,” he asked. “You have to be doing something!”
Now THIS was a man who had a hard time relaxing!
I tried to search for what it was I was doing, and all I came up with was … in trying to satisfy the question … “I guess I’m daydreaming .. or just thinking.”
And then, with the same confused face, he asked, “How can you just lie there and do nothing?”
Well, I thought I had just come up with an answer as to what I was doing, but I let that go, and said, “Here, just lie down, and kind of stare into space and let your mind relax. You know, just drift around a bit.”
He lay down and for all intents and purposes, assumed the position one would take if they were to relax. He looked up at the ceiling.
Then he looked at me.
“I don’t know how you can just do nothing. I can’t do nothing.”
I don’t really remember what happened after that, except that he wasn’t next to me anymore. Probably feeling guilty for now having the audacity to have actually spent a few moments of my life doing nothing, I’m sure I joined him and made it my business to start doing something.
But I think the animals still have the right idea. They have learned the fine art of doing nothing, of just being in the moment. They stretch out … close their eyes … take a deep breath and they’re off into dreamland or wherever animals go when they close their eyes. We have such a lot to learn from them … and this is one of their best lessons.

Remembering Sweet Claude …

August 19, 2013September 12, 2013 / still a dreamer / 8 Comments

In Memory of Claude

July 1998 – August 17, 2013
Rescued from Hillside, NJ RR bridge – August 1998

He had only 3 places to go. Over the fence and a 100′ drop to the railroad tracks below, into the traffic crossing the railroad bridge, or into my hands. He chose to climb the fence. Thanks to the help of a kind passerby, the tiny feral kitten ended up in my hands. In fact, he ended up squalling loudly while I held him against my left shoulder with one hand and drove the rest of the way to work. It was a day when I normally didn’t come in to work, on a route I never went but for the backed-up traffic that day. I even passed him by, thinking he was a crumpled piece of paper – that’s how tiny he was – before my brain went “KITTEN!” and I backed up for a closer look.

In our Medical Dept., he was assessed at 5 weeks old, too young to get shots and at risk of becoming very ill in the city shelter. So I decided to take care of him until he was old enough to be adopted. He stayed with me in my office during the day and I took him home at night. I’d set him up a huge dog crate with blankets, food, water, litter – everything he needed. He was so tiny I was afraid he’d get lost or trapped somewhere in the house. And he screamed. I shut the door to the room, let him out, and Claude made a beeline for my pit bull terrier Chloe’s chin and curled up underneath. From that moment on they became inseparable … he found the mom he’d always needed.

My thoughts of putting him up for adoption in the shelter were abandoned in the face of their devotion to each other, and that’s how Claude’s life began – loved by his dog and human moms.

Claude was a healthy and very happy, easygoing guy. He survived Chloe, who passed away at 15-1/2, as well as his two cat buddies Mewsette and Gypsy Rose who left us in the last year and a half. He was without a doubt the nudgiest animal I’ve ever known, but also beyond affectionate, cuddly, funny and extremely trusting. He stretched out anywhere on his back, totally vulnerable, knowing he was always safe and loved. And did I mention vocal? We won’t even go there.

Life was sweet for Claude until a little over a week ago when he experienced a mild, seizure-like event. Unfortunately, these progressed rapidly and in number and severity that it became clear there was only one thing to do. I told him where we were going Saturday morning and what would be happening. I bathed us in white light and asked who would meet Claude on the other side. In a heartbeat I saw Chloe … her bunny ears up, eyes bright, and she was dancing from side to side, so eager to see her “baby” once again.

Claude left peacefully in a second to join his mom and left me to reflect on how lucky I, as well as he, was that day when I was sent to work the “back way” and over a railroad bridge where someone needed desperately to be found.

Home will never be the same without you, Claudie.

Mysterious Creatures, Cats

February 13, 2013 / still a dreamer / 4 Comments

Now tell me … is the sun really all that much better under the dining room chair?

One of the things we love about dogs is that they are straightforward. Pretty much what you see is what you get. But cats? they trump most animals in the category of inscrutable, the kings and queens of unfathomable motives. With a wide swath of carpet bathed in sunlight this morning, Claude chose to slink himself in between the chair rails and sat there for quite some time. After a bit, he curled up in that spot and fell asleep.

Of course, when he’s a wide open book is when he hears the electronic ignition of the gas stove click because that means cat food might be warming up. In this case, it’s a small breakfast for one of my neighbor’s cats whose day is not started without breakfast chez Jeanne. I also ponder … why, when Claude, for whatever reason, feels a need to throw up, must he make a mad dash to do so on the upstairs wall-to-wall carpeting? Is throwing up anywhere where I could easily clean it up never part of the equation?

Why has drinking water become an occasion for caterwauling at any time of day or night? OK – I might cut him a little slack on this one because he is in the beginning stages of kidney failure, and maybe his kidneys are aching for water? Sounds good, but I doubt it. When I lean down the stairs with a very loud SSSHHHHhhhhhhh! he stops immediately, as if Cher herself, a la Moonstruck, just slapped him and said “Snap out of it!” My alternative theory is senility. But again … it may just be one of those things that cats do for reasons even they can’t fathom. Lucky for him, he has many other redeeming qualities including being cute as a button.

Now Gypsy Rose never shows her hand in the slightest bit. Whatever she’s thinking? You don’t know until she acts, like when, out of the blue, she just smacks Claude for apparently nothing. And then walks away.

So while he’s being silly under the dining room chair, she simply looks at him with disdain then returns her gaze to her kingdom, (queendom?), on the other side of the window. She has bigger fish to fry, like making our world safe from renegade cats that might walk across the porch. Lucky for them they’re beyond her reach.

The Spot that Must Be Had

August 31, 2012September 1, 2012 / still a dreamer

If you have pets or children in the amount of two or more, you will know exactly what I’m talking about. There is an item in your home. It could be a bed, a toy, a bone, a blankie … whatever it is, no one has expressed one iota of interest in it for eons. Suddenly, it becomes THE hot item and everybody must have it. Scuffles, fights, crying ensue … MINE!

Gypsy Rose, above, claiming The Spot for her own.

In the world of my cats, there is a particular bed in a particular spot in my office. No cat has lain there for so long I can’t even remember. I thought of putting it away, but you never know. Suddenly, it is the most desirable spot in my house. If one is on it, the other wants on and vice-versa. There is posturing, some occasional swatting, and that’s it. Usually Claude gives it up to Gypsy Rose. Sound like a familiar scenario?

Easygoing Claude just moves to another spot.

In this case, it’s probably a good thing, because after Gypsy’s last emergency trip to the vet, the dose of prednisone she needed to be on for a month left her quasi-comatose. She ate, went around the house a bit, upstairs to the litter, but was for the most part, a sad lump, and a lump who was gaining more weight which she didn’t need. It worried me; this was no life. After the month, we cut back the dosage to half for the next two weeks. With that, we saw her begin to brighten up. At the end of that two weeks, she gets that dose every other evening. And here’s where it gets tricky.

We, my vet and I, are trying to find the balance between the lowest dose possible she can take and her not having another horrible episode like last time. Her frightening symptoms are caused by inflammation which is in response to something in her brain – very likely cancer, a tumor, etc. So it’s a constant appraisal of how wobbly – or not – she is on her feet. Does her head shake more when she takes her treats from my hands? Such surveillance is not a job I enjoy, but it is how we’re going to keep her going as long as we can.

The bottom line is that Gypsy Rose – also known, BTW, as Bitchy Rose and Miss Bossy Boots – has brightened sufficiently to being back to her old pushy, dominant self. She’s alert and coordinated enough again to be jumping up on the sofa … even the window sill … without falling. I’ve assured Claude that her desiring that spot is actually a good thing. And he seems OK with it.

Me, too.