A Tail of Two (Okay, Three) Kitties - 3

Part 3

And then, there was Bella.



I knew when Jasmine died that I’d be in the market for a kitten. I only waited about 2 weeks. I found Bella through an online Feline Rescue group. They were hard core PRO-cat! I even had to sign a contract saying I wouldn’t feed her grocery store “cheap” cat food. They recommended all natural organic cat foods. Part of her adoption fee was applied automatically to having her spayed, and they practically set up the appointment for us. It was really handy. Bella was, as you might imagine, a very cute kitten.




She is very social – she loves to say hello to visitors. She always has something fun on the agenda and can often be heard bustling from room to room in the house; but both she and Zoey always settle wherever I am, which is nice. (Zoey, certainly, is my closest shadow. I wish I had a way to communicate with her when it’s laundry day – she follows me up and down the stairs time and time again…thinking that I’m on my way someplace fun. I’ve almost killed myself many times because she’s always underfoot, especially on the stairs!)

Bella is extremely athletic, but as for gracefulness she’s got about a 50/50 shot. Maybe 40/60. She’s the only cat I’ve ever seen fall flat on her back. Thud! It doesn’t seem to bother her, she just gets up and goes on about her business. She’s almost 3 now, and she’s still about 90% kitten, I think. She loves to play, and unlike Zoey, she’s not picky about who’s on the other end of the laser light. She’s equal opportunity all the way. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’ll have the hands of a 12-year old girl for as long as I have Bella. I always have scratches and battle scars to remind me of the hours we spend playing “attack the thing under the blanket” which normally leads to a quick game of “swipe the hand that just came out from under the blanket to change the channel”…which typically wraps up our play session. But she’s also a snuggler – she curls up in my arm the way Jasmine used to, which I love. (Zoey thinks she’s a scarf, and cannot “snuggle” unless she’s on my neck. As you can imagine, not super comfy but once in a while, I give her the go ahead and she climbs on board.)

I recently realized who Bella reminds me of. Growing up, I loved the cartoon Calvin and Hobbes. Calvin was always getting into something but he was so cute and earnest when he got caught you just had to love him. And he was clever. That’s how I feel about Bella. You don’t very often get to use the word “mischievous” but that word fits Bella. The markings she has on her face probably disguise some of her explorations around the house, but when she comes sauntering casually into the room, with cobwebs dangling from her whiskers, blinking innocently, I can always be sure she’s searched out another corner of the basement heretofore untouched by man or beast. We could all do well to take a tip from Bella – every day is an adventure.

Last year, I was taking some pictures during the holidays. Bella had curled up under the Christmas tree, and she looked so precious:


So, I turned to get a picture of Zoey who was perched on an ottoman next to me. I took a couple of shots where Zoey was blinking, or not looking; sadly, she’s not super photogenic, I’ve found. The room was relatively dark since I was trying out the Christmas lights, so I didn’t notice movement – but the next picture I got showed me that a certain someone didn’t want to be left out of the shot:


That’s my Bella! :o)

A Tail of Two (Okay, Three) Kitties - 2

Part 2 of 3 (Scroll down for Part 1)

Jasmine and I lived a very happy life together for several years. Every once in a while, I toyed with the idea of getting another kitty. I took mental turns projecting contentment and lonliness onto Jasmine. One day, I would think how fun it would be for her to have a companion during the days while I was at work. The next, I was sure she would find the idea repugnant since she would no longer get all of the attention. (I mean, I actually thought it would hurt her feelings and make her mad at me! Oh dear.) Around that time, I had moved to a house that was located blocks away from the Humane Society. One of my favorite things to do was to torture myself looking at cats and kittens - I would stop by "just to see them" in their little cages, but always force myself to leave without any of them. But, one day, I saw this little kitty. She was a little bit bigger (about 12 weeks old) than some of the kittens I'd considered before, but like Jasmine, she just sat at the edge of her little enclosure, watching me while her siblings rolled around and played and ate. She was mostly black - beautiful long, silky black fur with a white star on her chest, white "armpit hair" under each front leg, and her most unique feature - - grey tufts of hair behind each ear. I call them her "ear flaps". I broke the cardinal rule of window shopping, I asked to hold her. She and I had a little talk, but I wanted to be sure I was ready to take on a second pet so I took advantage of the 24-hour hold rule. By the time I got home (literally 5 minutes later) I knew she should be my kitty. I went out the next morning, got a few extra toys, and some kitten food and headed back over to pick her up. When I arrived, I went straght to her little cage...and she was GONE! I asked around. The person I'd worked with the day before was off but evidently, they had neglected to perfom a key step in the 24-hour hold process, which was to actually HOLD the kitty. The woman behind the counter informed me that someone had adopted her about an hour earlier. I was really upset by this point. I'd seen her, held her, and thought of names for her (she was originally going to be "Joey" - I've always loved the Concrete Blonde song of the same name, and I thought it was a cute name with Jasmine...). She was MINE and she was GONE! They said they'd call the family who had adopted her and "ask them" if they would consider bringing her back. They sent me home and said they'd call me when they heard from them. Fortunately, this other family took pity and even though they probably loved her, too, they did bring her back. I raced back to bring her home. Within the first day, even though she was an awkward little adolecent kitten, her silky black fur (which turns to mink brown in the sunlight) and pretty markings told me that the name "Joey" was too tomboy for her. She was a Zoey.

Now, Jasmine wasn't wild about the idea, and she wasted no time in asserting herself. Zoey was fine with that, she just wanted to play play play. It took them some time, but they became buddies. I really did think they'd have a lot more time together. It ended up only being around 4 years. During that time, they each earned their very appropriate nicknames. Pukebucket and Shitass were my babies. Jasmine was famous for wolfing down her food and then puking it back up again. And, poor little Zoey...she had her first "accident" early on, when she came home to live with us she got scared and shat herself. All of that silky long fur - - and after the brief ride home, she looked like she sat in pudding. I thought - hey, it's her first time away from her siblings, I'd probably do the same thing. But it, sadly, was a foreshadowing of things to come. Fierce little Jasmine was like my Guard Cat, but Zoey was more like my Scaredy Cat. I've moved twice since bringing Zoey home that day. Each time during transit to the new place, she's been scared to the point of pooping. Poor little thing.

Since Jasmine died, Zoey has taken on the one woman cat role. She's pretty standoffish around people. Like Jasmine, though, she's so pretty, people want to pet her. A lucky few get that chance, but most of the time she hangs out in places where only I am. She will sit next to me for ages, and just wait to be petted. If she just can't take it any more, she reaches out her paw and places it on my hand, or my arm, or my shoulder - a gentle reminder, "Here I am, see?"

Here they are:


Zoey, the shadow:


They both pretend to be ignoring each other:


Then, with no warning...ATTACK!!


Followed by kisses:


They had fun together.

A Tail of Two (Okay, Three) Kitties - 1

Part 1 of 3

DSCF0961, originally uploaded by d_jazmine.

One day when I was in my mid-twenties I decided the time had come for me to become a pet owner. It hit me out of the blue, I wanted a kitten. Specifically, a calico kitten. I’m not sure why, but the thought of a calico cat had always been appealing to me. Now, I’m the kind of person who makes her mind up, then puts the plan into action. No spreadsheets, no compiling of raw data, no studies of pros and cons…just jump right in. So, while I was at my desk at the office where I worked at the time, I called the Humane Society with hopes of driving straight there after work to pick out my kitty. They were closed. Some people would have taken that as a sign that this was not to be. I took it as a sign that I needed to work harder to find my kitty cat. I was lamenting the fact that my need for instant gratification didn’t match up with the funding available for staffing at the Humane Society, when one of my co-workers said “Hey, my cat just had kittens a few weeks ago, you can have pick of the litter if you want one!”. I said, “Thanks, but I was really hoping to find a calico kitty.” She said “The mom is calico, and so is one of the kittens!” So, off to the farm I drove that night, to see the babies. When I arrived, all of the kittens were piled up having supper on mommy…all except for one tiny calico kitten who marched over to the edge of the box, looked up and me, and said “MEW!”. I was a goner. I cannot tell you how cute she was. My precious baby Jasmine. She was only 6 weeks old, so I did end up having to wait a couple of weeks to bring her home, but on the designated day, I found the softest blanket in my closet, set up her litter box and kitten food, and headed out to pick her up. She was so teensy weensy. I have pictures of her at home, playing with an old 35mm film container, and it was the size of her torso. Insane! She never got bigger than 7lbs. She was petite and beautiful and extremely graceful and athletic. From day one, she was always a one-woman cat. I loved that about her. There were times that I envied people who had cats who would jump happily into anyone’s lap and purr away, but Jasmine was never that way. She had very discriminating taste. Furthermore, she used her perfect pink kitty nose and all of that petite cuteness to lure in many victims over the years. No one could resist her charms, but most wished they had. It was like she got a kick out of seeing how many people she could trick into trying to pet her, only to pay them back by taking a swipe at their fingers. I once took an online “personality” test on her behalf, and her result was: “Al Capone”, possible aliases: Biggie, Mugsy, Vinny, Killer, Claws, The Predator, and Meanie. Because most of my family and friends would agree wholeheartedly (and at least partial-fingeredly), I had a hard time convincing them that when I wanted to get comfy on the couch and watch a movie, she was always my cuddle buddy – she nestled perfectly right into the crook of my arm, with her little fuzzy head on my shoulder. If I was sad, she would come over and investigate, sandpaper licking away salty tears when necessary. Although I used my mommy-tone to “scold” her when she swiped at yet another visitor, she knew from my secret winks that deep down, I adored the fact that she loved me the best.

The hardest thing I ever had to do was say goodbye to Jasmine. She got sick when she was only 10 years old...way too young in kitty years. I had looked forward to spending another 10 years with her when one day, she just didn't seem herself. I took her to the vet, to be told she was in kindey failure. They offered to euthenize her right on the spot if I wanted, since the prognosis was pretty grim. I was shocked and in no way prepared for the news. Since they said she wasn't in pain, we got some fluids in her (I took her in every couple of days for weeks)and she bounced back for a while. I think she knew I wasn't ready, so she let me have a few more months. Then, on April 18th, 2007, I took her in for her last vet visit. They say that we know when it's time for our pets to say goodbye, and it was true. I knew. Ironically, it was my Grandma's birthday (she never was a big cat fan) and the day before my own birthday. That day, I cried the first salty tears in 10 years that she couldn't kiss away. A few slip down my cheeks from time to time, even now, when I think of her. She was my first, after all.

Stay tuned for parts 2 and 3.

...URP! (eeew!!)

So, in the middle of the night last night, I woke up, uncertain at first what had interrupted my gentle slumber. Moments later, the sounds of my roommate vacating her gastric cavity orally (a.k.a. PUKING HER GUTS OUT) into the toilet cleared that up for me. I chanted mentally "don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it" and eventually, I was able to fall back asleep. A few hours later, I was again awakened by a familiar and haunting sound: ack-ack-ack-ack-HAAACK...my CAT puking up a hairball - - on my bed!! EEEWW! Throw blanket on floor (I know, that's gross, but I was trying to recover quickly without having to wake all the way up), get another blanket, "don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it" and eventually, I fell back to sleep. As the sun rose, basking my room in a soft pink glow, I was yet again awakend by the violent splashing of stomach contents into the toilet. So, I guess you could say I'm happy to be at work right now. I hosed down the bathroom with Lysol. I scrubbed myself clean, and have applied antibacterial hand cleanser several times this morning. I enjoyed what has become my standard breakfast: Airborne, Advil, and Vitamin C.

Oh, please don't let me get sick, I HATE being sick!!

Election Day, 2009: NO ON 1 in Maine

So, yesterday, I was tuning in to some of the big election day “hotspots”. Specifically, I was paying attention to the “No On 1” campaign in Maine. I remember last spring, thinking – those lucky people in Maine – finally some progress being made for the GLBT community there. So, I was particularly interested in the outcome of this issue on the ballots. While I was online, I saw the Facebook status of a Maine resident, and it read “Yes on 1! Stand for marriage between one man and one woman!!” As you might expect, this person had like-minded friends who posted notes supporting this stance, but the one that stood out to me was this one, which said:

“C'mon Christians! Get out there and vote... Don't vote your conscience. Don't FOLLOW your heart - it'll steer you wrong. (Above all, the heart is deceitful and wicked...) LEAD your heart, and vote according to Gods principals. That would be a resounding "YES", on 1!!”

It got me thinking – whoa! That’s really what we’re up against, isn’t it? I was glad that very shortly after I saw that, I happened upon this:

http://www.melwhite.org/blog/91

…which basically says (and I quote): “I will no longer debate the issue of homosexuality in the church with anyone. I will no longer engage the biblical ignorance that emanates from so many right-wing Christians about how the Bible condemns homosexuality, as if that point of view still has any credibility. I will no longer discuss with them or listen to them tell me how homosexuality is “an abomination to God,” about how homosexuality is a “chosen lifestyle,” or about how through prayer and “spiritual counseling” homosexual persons can be “cured.” Those arguments are no longer worthy of my time or energy.”

What I know for sure is that, someday, we will reach the point where “with liberty and justice for all” actually applies to ALL, and not “some”. I just hope and pray that we don’t do irreparable damage to each other in the struggle to get there.

God is LOVE, people. Doesn’t it make your heart sing to believe that? It does mine.