How to give a cat medicine April 18, 2005 ~ 3:03 pm
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What the hell, it’s sunny out. Icicles, Woodstock, NY.
In several easy steps.
1.) Pet the cat, telling him what a good boy he is. Note that he is still purring. That will come to a screeching halt as you…
2.) Kneel over him, trying to give him a pill coated with butter (to make it go down easier). Open his mouth.
3.) Retract fingers from the gaping maw of death. Note that butter has made the pill stick to his whiskers rather than go down his throat. Tell him again what a good cat he is.
4.) Try again. Ignore that he is snapping like an alligator and fighting you like a wildcat. Get pill in his mouth.
5.) Cat promptly spits out pill because he didn’t swallow it. Get new pill, try again. Good kitty.
6.) Cat by this point will have clawed you to bits. Get towel, bundle him up, try again.
7.) Succeed in getting approximately half the pill down his throat. Take count of remaining pills in envelope, decide he will need them for the rest of the week. Ignore foam dripping from mouth, as apparently this is a reaction that all medicine will cause. Move onto liquid medicine. Speak in a calm, low voice, telling him what a nice, brave kitty he is.
8.) Wrap cat in towel again. Wipe off outside of eyedropper so that no extra medicine gets on his tongue. Try to shoot medicine in through side of mouth.
9.) Discover that the side of his mouth doesn’t exist as he has figured out a way to lock his jaw tighter than a new prison inmate’s ass on his first trip to the showers.
10.) Reposition cat in towel. Tell him what a good kitty he is.
11.) Remove hand from gaping jaws of death, because the nice kitty has just bitten you.
12.) Rationalize with the cat that you are doing this with his own good, wrestle some more, and try again.
13.) Explain to flying dervish of fur that if he would just hold still, this would be easier. Tell him that he is a very good boy.
14.) Manage to get medicine down his throat. The whole dose. For the first time in three days.
15.) Watch cat begin transformation into Cujo as he staggers around the house, dripping foam from his mouth, with watering eyes.
16.) Tell cat again what a nice kitty he has been. Pay no attention to the fact that your previously sweet kitty is looking at you like he is going to shit on your face the next time you fall asleep.
17.) Take shower, get ready for work. After leaving bathroom, take a paper towel around the apartment cleaning up all the spots where drool has been left by Cujo-kitty. The floor, the couch, the dining room table, on top of your registration for your college reunion.
18.) Call for kitty, shaking treat can. Look in all his favorite hiding spaces. Find him in very back of the closet, hiding from you, horrible person that you are.
19.) Leave treat on floor in front of closet to entice him out, because you cannot leave the closet open while you’re at work, not while he’s in that mood.
20.) When cat finally emerges, shut closet door quickly, pet him, and tell him what a good boy he is.
21.) Leave for work, half an hour late, and calculate how many hours you have until the process has to be repeated this evening, and how many times the process has to be repeated in the next 8 days. Curse your lot in life.
The $190 Cat April 16, 2005 ~ 9:16 pm
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Moss and parasitic flowers on a tree. Woodstock, NY
I told several people before I went to the vet with Jesse that there had “damn well be something wrong with him.” I got my wish. He had a fever, some sort of infection, and impacted anal glands (or something like that). If I never have to see the vet squeeze my cat’s anal gland again, I will be happy. See, they’re supposed to drain on their own, but sometimes they don’t. And then the cat needs help (read here, “the cat needs the vet to reach up his asshole and squeeze the fucking things, which by the looks of it was every bit as painful as you’d expect”). I felt bad for him, really. He’d probably been in pain for a while, but I didn’t know, cos he’s such a happy ass (pardon the pun) all the time. And how was I supposed to know that warm ears mean a cat has a fever? I thought he just had naturally warm ears (which should tell you that he’s had a fever for a while). I felt like the world’s worst cat owner when all was said and done. And then I got charged $190. For the visit, getting the stuff out of the anal glands, for the two shots they gave him to fight the fever and infection, for the two types of medicine they gave me for him, for the claw clipping they gave him (which is coming in handy when I give him his meds), for the vitamins they gave me because he turned into the original Dandruff Cat due to stress, and for this other stuff they gave me because “sometimes the medicine makes cats foam at the mouth, and this will help with that.”
Yeah, you read that right. “Sometimes,” my ass. The poor cat has foamed at the mouth like Old Yeller both times I’ve tried to give him the shit. Anyone who has a good technique for giving cats liquid meds, please share, because Jesse and I are both dying here. One of us is dying looking like a kitty Cujo, the other is dying covered in cat spit foam. Because it’s all over my house. And I’m still not sure how much medicine I’ve gotten down his little throat.
But enough bitching. I have to tell you the highlight of the vet trip. Since Christmas, Jesse has lost about 3 pounds. He was 15 pounds, yesterday he weighed in at 12. I attributed it to switiching him over to senior food for a while, but him being sick makes more sense. The vet looked at Jess, looked at me, and said “He’s a little overweight.” to which I replied “You should’ve seen him before…I was starting to wonder if he has a tapeworm or something because he’s lost so much.” The vet wasn’t as amused as I was. Nobody ever is…
Pictures of my cat as Cujo will be up soon, if I can capture it.
Marchioness Soars Like a Bird April 15, 2005 ~ 11:49 am
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Her tag sux. 34th Street, Brooklyn-bound F platform.
That’s my Ya-Ya name up there. As I was dashing through the Union Square Barnes & Noble Tuesday night to get to the bathroom (I will have you know that it is a skill to know where every free toilet in Manhattan is), my eyes caught a bright and cheerful hardcover. The escalator was taking me upstairs, but I knew what that purple cover with a little girl from the 50s meant - there was finally a new Ya-Ya Sisterhood book!
Once I was done with the action necessitated by two quickly-pounded beers, I went back downstairs and bought that book, broke as I was. There hasn’t been a new Ya-Ya book in 6 years, and dammit, I wasn’t waiting another minute for my reunion with some of my favorite characters in fiction.
I finished the book yesterday evening. I would have been done sooner, but I had to go to work. And I didn’t take a lunch break yesterday. Damn work, getting in the way of my reading!
The guys out there might not get so into the books (although even Rick admitted that the movie version of Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood was good), but ladies, do yourselves a favor. Get Ya-Yas in Bloom, the latest book. And if you haven’t read Divine Secrets and Little Altars Everywhere, get those, too. I think you’ll love them as much as I do.
And if you’re bored at work, go get a Ya-Ya name of your own over at the games section of the Ya-Ya website. Knowing that I’m Marchioness Soars Like a Bird makes me feel better than I have all week!
Anxiety driven post April 14, 2005 ~ 3:14 pm
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That same Indian restaurant, interior. Holy glitz, Batman!
I can sort of see my desk for the first time in three weeks. Today is a cause for celebration, friends and neighbors. I finally got through all the degree audits on my desk. But it comes with a price. I’m fucking exhausted, and we are still six weeks away from the busiest time of year in my office. Commencement. At this point, I honestly don’t know how I’m going to make it - I feel so drained already. Just grit my teeth, make lots of to do lists, and go home and drink a couple of beers every night, I guess.
Adding to that is the stress of my upcoming college reunion. As soon as Commencement ends, I will be flying out the office door to JFK to catch my flight to Pittsburgh. I don’t think it will be stressful while I’m there - after all, it’s a generational reunion, which means that my best college buddies Kim and Dawn will be there, and Kim and I are driving up and rooming together. So that will be fine. It’s just the idea of getting there. I don’t mind flying, even pre-9/11. What I do mind are the hundreds of details that could go wrong. Ask anyone who has ever gone someplace with me (at least that we paid money to go to!), I’m neurotic about getting there on time, making sure we have everything we’re going to need, all that shit. I always feel like I’ve forgotten something or something is going to go wrong, even when everything is perfect. I’ve already got that feeling about the trip to Pittsburgh, and it’s still 6 weeks off. Goddess help me.
Last but not least, I’m reviewing my finances. Things are a little tight around my house. That fucking trip to the dentist this week cost me $250 out-of-pocket because my insurance sucks. I’ll get about half of that back, and in the meantime it’s on my credit card, making me pay interest, because of course the appointment was scheduled before payday. I’m worried about taking Jesse to the vet tomorrow as well. They told me the visit will cost $40, but I imagine that they’re going to have to do bloodwork to see if there’s anything wrong with him, and if there is, then there will be medication to pay for as well. All of this while I’m trying to save some money in case I decide to move…well, it makes me more than a little anxious. I need a beer, and it’s only 3:36. Dammit.
I’ll get through this. I will come up with something hysterically funny to make you all laugh. In the meantime, because it’s Thursday and Thursday means Apprentice, I’ll leave you with this little tidbit I learned when George Ross (The Donald’s advisor on The Apprentice) came to campus last week: The Donald’s chair in the boardroom is perched on a little dais to make him seem taller and more imposing. Must be good to be King…
Oh, cat April 13, 2005 ~ 3:21 pm
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The glitz and trashiness that is an Indian restaraunt - Little India, East Village.
The Piss Crusader struck again this morning, and the litterbox wasn’t dirty. It’s not a huge crisis because I have a vinyl matress cover on the couch, it just involves taking the slipcover off and rinsing that out, but it has still made me late for work twice this week. I’m at my wit’s end, so I called the vet and made an appointment for Friday afternoon. Maybe he has a urinary tract infection that is making him do this. He has lost a lot of weight recently, it could be a bug. And when they have UTIs, cats will often piss in inappropriate places to get your attention.
If I find out the little fucker isn’t sick, though, and he has not only pissed on my couch but made me spend money on a trip to the vet, I am going to open a can of whoopass on him. Rick has told me that I’ve been a lot more patient than he would have been (did I mention that the couch is only a year old?), and I guess that’s because Jesse is really sweet 99.9% of the time - when he’s not pissing on the couch. But if the vet can’t provide any answers, it might be time for a parting of the ways. If it comes to that, Rick has promised to take us to North Shore, which is a no-kill shelter. I don’t want Jess being put down just because he pees in inappropriate places. Maybe they’ll have a solution that I don’t.
So why do I feel all this premature guilt?
It wasn’t all bad April 12, 2005 ~ 11:54 am
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Last Gates picture - look, even nuns like the Gates!
I realize that I sounded totally petty in yesterday’s post. I realized it as I was typing it. But I’m not the type of person to share things that irritate me in real life…I let them build up and fester and nasty things like that until I totally lose my temper and everyone in a 50 mile radius had damn well better run for their lives, because there is no escaping the pyroclastic eruption that is a redheaded Irish temper that has been ignored for too long. Yesterday’s post was an attempt to blow off some steam before Vesuvius erupted, so to speak. Not rational, and not helped by the fact that ITS sent over some guys chimps to hook up our new network printer who only succeeded in giving me a migraine and fucking up my computer. Thanks, chimps. Next time, fling some poo while you’re here so we can all have a good laugh, okay?
The weekend was largely good. We went on an amazing hike that gave us an incredible view of the Berkshires and Catskills when we reached the top of the mountain. On the hike, the Oldest found a deer antler that she will be taking to science class. The Youngest wound up with a laser pointer set out of a Geocache. I got to spend time with the three people I love best in the world, even when I’m out-of-sorts and PMS-y. We spent a lot of time hiking around in the woods, one of my favorite things to do. I introduced the kids to “Whose Line Is It, Anyway?” which I know Rick loved as well. Really. You did, honey. And then Rick offered me an escape from the Bat Cave/Hobbit Hole where I live, which means more to me than I can express. He’s a good guy, as I’ve said a million times before. Sometimes I am just bitchy and have to vent.
Minor Irritations April 11, 2005 ~ 1:15 pm
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The next-to-last picture of the Gates. I know Steph is excited.
Things that have irked my taters in the past 48 hours. No specific order.
1.) While hiking, forgetting that my legs are a full foot shorter than yours, thus meaning I can’t move as quickly as you can, particularly when you easily step over fallen logs that come up to my thighs. Scrambling takes extra time. And no, you didn’t slow down.
2.) Referring to me as your “friend, Julie” in a note to your aunt. I am not your friend, I am your girlfriend. There is a difference, as we have discussed on numerous occasions in the past. It involves sex, love, and how well you know me, among other things. Next time I introduce you, I will refer to you as my friend and see how you like it.
3.) My blood sugar crashing because I hadn’t eaten all day, and the nausea that accompanied it, making it impossible for me to eat anything due to the fear that it would come back up. You’d think you didn’t want me to feed you, Stomach, and I know that was not the case. You keep this shit up, and no one is going to want you as an organ donation when I die.
4.) Not only don’t take my advice when I offer it (which is understandable), but totally ignore what I have just said and do what you were going to do anyway, without informing me. Part of the decision involved me. And my stomach. This is not understandable, and downright irritating. My stomach and I don’t like being disregarded. We like the courtesy of an explanation, at the very least.
5.) Piss on the couch while I am cleaning your goddamned litterbox, you fucking cat. Can’t you see that I am trying to help you out here? We have two litterboxes, you could have used the other one, held it, or pissed on the fucking floor. Why you think that the couch doubles as another litterbox is totally fucking beyond me. As is why I keep you after you piss on it, especially since you always piss when I have no time to clean up after your furry ass. Your brother doesn’t piss on everything. Chill the fuck out, cat.
6.) After all of this, to be reminded that I have a dentist appointment this afternoon. Because it’s not enough that I’ve dealt with the rest of this, nooo. I have to go to the dentist to visit with sado-hygenist, who will merrily inform me that my enamel didn’t form right or some such shit, and thus I am doomed to a life of cavities, all while she blasts away at my gums with the water pik.
One word: Beatdown.
Happy Happy Joy Joy April 8, 2005 ~ 3:10 pm
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Back to the Gates. In snow. Thank Goddess that’s behind us!
It’s cooled off here today, we’re down to 58 degrees, but the sun is shining again, there are flowers making their appearances everywhere, and it’s Friday, baby. What’s not to feel good about?
I went to a great show at the Apollo in Harlem last night with Jordana. It was a one-man show about the performer’s experiences leading to and after his kidney transplant. While I sat there, I thought about Seven, and Savannah, and really thought about my feelings regarding organ donation. I’ve always been a little weirded out by giving up any of my organs after I died. I know that there’s no logical reason for that feeling, and I’ve even said on this blog that after you die, your soul moves on, so why was I hesitant? As I sat there listening to Sekou’s story of how four of his friends stepped forward to donate one of their kidneys so that he could live, my mind wandered. Would I be able to give one of my kidneys to someone? That’s a pretty big damn sacrifice. Of course, we have two kidneys, I could live with just one. Especially if the person who needed the kidney was Rick, or one of the girls, or my mom. If I could see myself giving up a kidney for them while I was alive, why couldn’t I do the same for someone after I died? I wouldn’t be in pain, and the organs in my body alone could save eight people.
I picked up a donor card in the lobby, and noticed there was a section that said “Donate all organs except the following:” and then you could fill in the blank afterwards. I told my mom when I was younger that I didn’t want to donate my eyes, “because that would just be gross.” I had visions of someone seeing out of my eyes…my brown eyes in someone else’s face…kind of Reanimator-like. I later realized that they use the corneas for transplant, not the whole eye. Well, with my recurrent corneal erosion, I have a legit reason for not donating my eyes - nobody else needs to go through that shit because they got my bum cornea. So I’ll be keeping my eyes, thankyouverymuch, but anyone who needs an organ can have one of my other ones once I’m dead. And if you’re a very good friend, I might give you a kidney while I’m alive.
Damn, this post kind of wrote itself in a different direction than what I anticipated. Gotta put in something funny here. Okay, I have it. I rubbed the World Famous Stump at the Apollo last night, for luck, as the tradition goes. While I was rubbing it, I noticed the wall mural of famous black performers, including the Jackson Five. Hope that Stump gives me more luck than it gave Michael Jackson!
Quizzy Goodness April 8, 2005 ~ 2:40 pm
Posted by Julie in : Daily Grind , comments closedI was going to post this yesterday, but Blogger was being a little bitch and wouldn’t let me. Stolen from Celti, Cooter, and Seamus, and probably other people as well…
What’s on your nightstand?
My alarm clock, a lamp, some pictures of Rick, and the boxed set of C.S. Lewis’s The Chronicles of Narnia that I’ve had since I was 8. Oh, and a couple mini-statues of Ganesh. Because he watches over me. The interesting question would have been, “What’s in your nightstand,” but you didn’t ask that, now did you?
You’re stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?
I don’t have a desire to be a book, especially if the person reading me is one of those people that licks their fingers to turn the page. I hate that! But if I were going to be in a book, I’d have to say The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe. Because how cool would it be to meet Aslan?
Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?
Oh, yeah. More from a movie, but since there was also a book of Labyrinth, I have no guilt about saying The Goblin King, Jareth. But only if he looks like David Bowie did in the movie.
The last book you bought:
*Rustles through backpack to find the books purchased last night*
Um, two books. Bee Season by Myla Goldberg, and Boss Tweed by Kenneth D. Ackerman.
The last book you read:
Wicked by Gregory MacGuire. Finished it today at lunch.
Five books you would take to a deserted island…and why?
Damn, it’s hard to limit myself to five.
The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway (because it has the best sentence in the English language - “The road to Hell is paved with unbought stuffed dogs.”)
The Color Purple by Alice Walker
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (ha! I get a whole bunch just by taking one big book!)
Forever by Pete Hamill
My Life by Bill Clinton (because maybe on a desert island I could actually sit down and read it - that book is not meant to be hauled around NYC, it’s just too damn heavy.)
Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?
No one. If you’re bored, do it. If not, what the hell, right?
Spring has sprung. Finally. April 6, 2005 ~ 2:38 pm
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Joe, after seeing Pisscat outside. Look at the size of that tail!
I decided to give you a break from the Gates because the sun is shining, it’s 72 degrees out, and I don’t feel like posting pictures of snow. Even snow decorated with saffron colored flags.
The weather is giving me a totally new lease on life. Yesterday I came home and weeded my front yard in preparation for planting flowers this weekend. In my shorts! It was shorts weather!! Today I was able to wear my new capris and sandals to work, and decided that in honor of the occasion, I was going to get a pedicure. I went to the nail salon near the college, and had a relaxing lunch break getting my feet ready for summer, for half the price I normally pay. Now my sky blue toenails are shining up at me, making me smile every time I see them. And I discovered Lipton’s green tea with honey, probably the best thing since sliced bread. I normally hate green tea, but iced and honeyed makes all the difference. I foresee a lot of homemade iced green tea with honey this summer.
Spring is here, kids, and I’m in a good mood because of it. Enjoy it, cos I sure as hell am.
