Cat Saga: A New Chapter

Sophie joined our family on Thursday, December 11. She is 9 weeks-old.











Everyone seems to be adjusting well. There has been some hissing and pawing, but Beeson and Annabelle seem to be accepting of Sophie's presence in the house.

Oliver has found a friend at the vet's office, where he is residing until April can find him a new home. He hasn't given anyone at the vet's a single ounce of trouble. Camryn is relieved that Oliver is happy and seems content that we made the right decision.

And once again there is happiness in the land.

About Yesterday...

December 5, 2008: Not a day I want to repeat.

I shared in yesterday's blog about my desire to find Oliver a new home. Camryn has been fighting Oliver's departure ever since we told her that him staying with us was impossible. There has been much weeping and gnashing of teeth, as you can imagine. I think I was hoping something would magically click and all would be right with the cats and their relationships with one another, but alas, it did not. The last straw for me came yesterday.

I came home from dropping off Camryn and Aiden at school and went around checking everyone's rooms for laundry that needed to be done. I was also closing the bedroom doors behind me to prepare to let Oliver out (there seemed to be less likelihood of Beeson and Annabelle pooping and peeing in protest of Oliver if the bedroom doors were shut.)

In Lillian's room I was straightening her comforter when I found a big, dried cat pee spot. She's been sleeping under a dried up cat urine spot for who knows how long. I lost it. Quinn's comforter had suffered a similar fate earlier in the week and I'd had to wash it for the umpteenth time (it seemed to be a favorite target!)

I threw the comforter in the washing machine and starting crying hysterically. Stress reliever, I guess. I never let Oliver out of the bathroom. I was too mad at him, even though I knew it wasn't him that had actually done the peeing. I also knew at that moment that yesterday would be the last day with Oliver. I was determined to find him SOMEWHERE to be by the end of the day.

My husband finally got in touch with the vet tech that had promised to take Oliver if he ended up not working out for us. She told him to have Oliver at the office by 6 pm and she'd foster him and find him a new home (that's what she does). Hubby and I agreed that Camryn would need to say goodbye before he went, so I put him in the cat carrier and took him with me to pick up Quinn and Lillian, then I checked Camryn and Aiden out of school around 2:30.

Camryn knew something was up when I showed up before 3 pm. I didn't know how to tell her about what was about to transpire, so I just blurted it out on the way to the car. She, of course, starting sobbing. I let her hold Oliver on the drive from the school to the vet's office, and then we all sat in the car, crying, and said goodbye to Oliver.

I knew it would be a hard, hard thing to do, and I knew Camryn would be so very heartbroken, but what I didn't expect was Aiden's reaction. He was crying almost as hard as Camryn was, except he was doing it quietly in the back seat. I was so focused on how Camryn would take the news that I never envisioned how Aiden would take it. We were a sad, sad sight sitting in the van in the parking lot.

Finally Camryn summoned the courage to get out of the van. She and I walked Oliver into the office and waited to see April, Oliver's new foster mom. She told Camryn that she is very picky about the people she lets adopt her foster kitties, and that she would find Oliver the perfect new family. I know that soothed Camryn's heart a little, but it still hurt so badly to say goodbye. I was trying to be tough, but I was choking back sorrow, too. As we left the office, Camryn starting crying loudly. Man, it was a dagger to my heart. She hasn't cried like that since her Harry died last February, and I hope I never hear that kind of choking sob from her again (but I know I will, and it will most likely be a B-O-Y that makes it happen. I hate him already.)

Before we left yesterday April did mention that she has a few orange tabby foster kittens that are around 6-8 weeks old. She said she'd consider it a fair trade if we wanted to come back next week and take home one of the kittens. Camryn's eyes lit up like light bulbs. I'm hesitant, but April said a kitten will more likely to be accepted by Beeson and Annabelle. Oliver was just too old and had too dominant a "personality" to fit into our kitty family. She encouraged us to try again, and after discussing it with my husband it was decided that we will.

Yeah, I know.

Wordless Wednesday

Fish Talk

Our family is fish obsessed. We've taken to sitting in front of the new fish tank about as often as we sit in front of the television. It's fascinating to have this little ecosystem in our very own den. Who knew it would be this entertaining?

My husband and my older daughter, Camryn, like to fish watch more than anyone. Several times this week I've seen them like this, engrossed in conversation about our new wards.



I think it's awesome. I love to hear them chatting outside my office door (which is where the tank is...) Camryn soaks up everything her dad has to teach her about the fish, and she's taken to Googling stuff about fish on her own time. I think she's more invested in this tank than her daddy is. She's even developed some fish-like tendencies:



I've been swept up into the whole fish world myself. I stop and stare at the tank several times a day. I have chastised Camryn for getting too emotional when we lose a fish, but yesterday I found myself overreacting when Big Red (our Betta) was stuck in the pump. His gorgeous fantail had gotten caught and I didn't notice until it was almost too late. He swam away once we released him from the pump's suction, but he was dead when we returned from church last night. Poor fella. I was a little sad. He was the one I watched the most (I even gave him his name!)

We bought 3 preggo Guppies at PetSmart on Friday night, and this morning one of them had babies. Camryn was so excited! We were keeping the moms-to-be in a maternity net so the other fish wouldn't eat the babies, but we released them this morning after the first one gave birth. The two moms that have yet to give birth would eat the other's guppies, so they had to move out. The babies are still in the net, and the other two preggos will have to give birth and try to protect their fry from the other fish. Hey, it's the survival of the fittest (and we don't need 50 guppies in the tank!)

Here are our newest additions:



The other fishies are already very interested in what's swimming around in the maternity net. It's like seeing a bunch of untouchable pizza slices and hamburgers.



We got two new Neon Tetras to replace our dead Nick Jonas. We've renamed the group the Jackson 5 ("Who's that?" my kids said. Can you believe?!? Well... maybe it's better that they not know that cute little lead singer became an alleged pedophile...)



This is one of our Silver Dollar fish. We have two of them, but they haven't been named (mainly because we can't tell them apart...) These guys are my favorite, but I think they hide from me. They're never around when I want to see them. I have to sneak up on them. I'm amazed this one stayed still for a picture.



Those Silver Dollars like to eat the smallest of our new Ghost Shrimp that hubby picked up today. The bad thing about the fish dying is that they have to be returned so we can get our money back, and that prompts another round of fish and equipment purchases. Hence the new shrimp in the tank. Why shrimp? Well, I was told they help keep the tank clean by eating the algae. They were a must have, he said.



These are our Dwarf Garamis. We have one that has a small dorsal fin (we call her Miley Cyrus) and another with a larger dorsal fin that we call Hannah Montana.





This is one of our angel fish, appropriately named Angel. The angel fish are fun to watch, because although they're schoolers (they swim together) they do like to nip at one another.



Another (unnamed) Angel Fish:



We also picked up some new Zebra fish and some algae eating fish (I call those scumsuckers), which are way too fast to be photographed. They zip all over the tank and make things interesting. It's really cool to see the scumsuckers stuck to the glass of the tank. They're like little vacuum cleaners.

Are you bored yet?

Fascination

I should probably save this one for Wordless Wednesday, but it's too cute. Annabelle loves the fishies!

It Is "Fin"ished

It is with a heavy heart that I announce the passing of one of the Jonas Brothers. Yes, our Nick died today. May he rest in peace.



(That's not actually Nick. Ours was grey and bloated, so I used my old friend Google Images to bring you a better picture of what Nick might've looked like at the height of his time in our tank...which was all of 3 days...)

Bubble... Bubble... Toil and Trouble...

I knew it would happen.



You can barely see it for the crowd of children jockeying for position around it, but that's our new fish tank.

What, you say? Didn't you just get a 5-gallon tank on Monday?

Why yes, you're right, dear readers.

But that wasn't enough. Once my husband got the small tank home, he started dreaming of bigger, better tanks. He assured me he would gradually build on this fish obsession, but yesterday he called me and asked me to measure the only empty wall in our den. He was standing in the fish section in Wal Mart when he called. Maybe I should've fudged the measurements a little, because he took the children back to PetSmart and bought the biggest tank he could find that would fit on that wall.

The kids and hubby were all up until 9:30 last night filling the tank with gravel, faux underwater flora, structures and of course, water.





At last, the bubbles rose, the light was turned on and the children sat mesmerized in front of the tank. It is quite pleasant to watch and listen to.



There were no fish in the tank until this morning. Something about the temperature having to rise and all that hoo ha I know nothing about. It's nice to watch, but I have resigned all fish care to my husband. I have killed fish in the past, and I don't want their blood (do fish have blood?) on my hands.

On another note, I made an awesome purchase myself yesterday:



That, for the unscrapulous of you out there, is the much sought after Fiskars Threading Water punch. It makes that pretty scalloped edge you see on the paper. Ain't it purty?

Not Much Has Changed, But They Live Underwater...

Meet the newest members of our family:



Those are 3 Neon Tetras. We call them the Jonas Brothers. We're not really sure what their genders are, but we thought since they're a trio and our 10 year-old is in LOVE with Nick, Joe and Kevin, the name fit.

My husband had a 10-gallon tank when he was in school, and he's longed to bring fish back into our home since then. We've had cats since 1995, so he didn't want to tempt the cats with the fish. I guess he changed his mind, because while I was in Hair Masters with the girls getting haircuts, the mister took the boys into PetSmart and bought a 5-gallon tank, some accessories and these cuties. I kinda like 'em. I hope we graudate to a larger tank soon.





The cats don't seem the least bit interested in the fish. Maybe they fish are too small to be seen. Either way, the lid can't be penetrated by the kitties, so I think we're safe. We'll see. Our trio may be a duo by tomorrow.

Oh, and here's Lillian's haircut. Quite a drastic change, but I was sick to death of hearing her (fake) screams of (fake) pain every time I touched her hair.

There's a Feline in my Fridge

My daughter's furbaby, Harry, died yesterday.



I was, to say the least, in complete shock. Harry showed no signs of being sick.

I had been "given" the day off by my husband; he took our kids to his mother's house for the day, so I was just relaxing. I had just gotten up off the couch after watching all the DVR recordings I'd saved. I went downstairs to scrapbook for a bit, and as soon as I sat in my chair I heard cat wailing.

I'd heard this wail before, and it usually meant that a cat was trapped somewhere. I got up and went in search of whoever was trapped, but instead I found Harry laying on the rug in the downstairs den. He looked okay, so I thought his claw might be caught in the rug.

As I got closer, I realized something was wrong. He was obviously in pain. That's when the blood came.

I rushed him to the emergency vet clinic. He died on the way. I remember screaming when I realized he was dead, because my immediate thought was, "Oh, Lord. I have to tell Camryn her sweet Harry is dead." It was, at the time, an unfathomable thought.

Camryn adored Harry. They just had that bond that few people get with a pet. She actually called him her child. He was her constant companion when she was home; he slept on her bed all day and all night, every night. He cried pitifully when she was away for too long, visiting a friend overnight or her grandparents for a week at a time.

I was not looking forward to Camryn's return home, although she did know beforehand that he had passed away. I was literally nauseous over how she was going to react when she saw him. I could not eat; all I could do was think about Camryn and how she was going to deal with this tragedy.

I know it's silly. I would rather lose a cat than one of my own human children, but Harry was one of my first "kids". My husband and I adopted him from the Humane Society, and within days of him moving in with us, he developed a bad upper respiratory infection. I nursed him back to health (it took almost 4 weeks for him to completely recover). When I took him back to the vet for a checkup, she was surprised to see him. She confessed that his URI was so bad she didn't expect him to live. Good thing she didn't tell me that, because I don't think I would've fought so hard for him to live. I guess that's why this has hit me so hard. He was my baby, too.

Camryn finally arrived home around 8 pm. She said goodbye for over an hour, sobbing and stroking his soft fur. We clipped some of that fur and finally said goodbye around 9 pm. We sealed him up and put him in the downstairs refrigerator until tomorrow when we can all gather as a family to bury Harry in the yard. Camryn wants his grave to be right outside her bedroom window, so most likely that's where he will be.

The vet and his staff gave me all the supplies for burying Harry in our yard in a way that wild animals won't dig him up. They also took an impression (in clay) of his paws for us. They were incredibly kind and generous. They didn't even ask for a penny for anything.

Camryn is already talking about getting a kitten. I think we need to focus on our other cat, Beeson, for awhile.

I'm not ready to go through this again anytime soon.