Hello all! I have good news and bad (well, not seriously bad) news. Good news first: I am happy to report that my attempt to destash some yarn and make a little cash in the process has been successful so far! It's been really nice to have a little bit of a balance in my PayPal account to buy a skein of "must-have" yarn, or a knitting notion or two, or a little something special from etsy.
So far I've made $131 from selling yarn in my etsy shop; and another $61 selling directly from my Ravelry "will-trade-or-sell" list. So $192--- not too shabby! That total does not include the shipping amounts, either! There's still more that I want to get rid of. Given the good results so far, I am very encouraged!
Some more good news: I did finish the pair of socks for Jen (the orange striped ones). And I am on track to finish the slate blue "Data Socks" for Josh, hopefully at some point this weekend! So I'll be all set for them come the Valentine's Day weekend.
Now the "bad" news. Remember that wedding wrap that I started for my future sister-in-law? Yeah, well there is no way that I am ever going to get that thing finished. In yesterday's mail I got the invitation to her bridal shower, which is March 13. ACK. I didn't expect it to be that soon. Although, I must admit that I don't know where my brain is! I mean really, it IS already the end of the first week of February and the wedding is early May. Sigh. Anyway, it's not going to happen. I only just found where I stashed it away (to keep it from feline influence). Talk about out of sight, out of mind!
And here's some potentially actually bad news: we need to take Sophie to the vet again for a thyroid check-up. These never turn out well. First of all, she's always half a pound lighter than she was the time before. Not good. Sophie used to be a 22-pound cat. Seriously. One day a few years ago I happened to be paying closer attention to her and realized that she looked great. A routine vet visit confirmed that she had lost a lot of weight; she was down to about 16 pounds. But since that time, which was not more than 3 years ago, she's consistently lost about 1.5 pounds a year. This is a lot for a cat. So in less than 3 years, she's gone from 16 to 11.5 pounds. :-(
She started on a thyroid regime about the same time we first noticed the weight loss. So, obviously, we're STILL not getting the dosage right. I just want her to stop losing weight. Thankfully, her appetite is still good. She doesn't drink as much water as I'd like. In fact, the last time we brought her in to the vet, Sophie was pretty dehydrated and they gave her some fluids. The sight of the bag of fluids makes me very sad. That was the last step before euthanasia for Mr. Chesterfield.
There are other potential issues with Sophie, too. For one thing, I'm starting to doubt the accuracy of her date of birth, something we have long thought to be March 1996. My sister adopted Sophie in November of 1997 and was told at that time that Sophie was "a year and a half old." Given the debacle with Mr. Chesterfield's age when we adopted him, I have an ever increasing terror that Sophie isn't approaching 14, but 19 or 20. Also, she was in bad shape when she was initially rescued. She had a really bad case of pneumonia, the effects of which still plague her today. She is prone to respiratory infections and has had fluid around her heart and lungs a couple of times. Plus at her last vet check-up we learned that she has fractal cataracts. She can still see, but she might see as if she were looking through a kaleidoscope or faceted glass. Great.
AND she's been having accidents again around the house, which is really disconcerting. We had to move a small litter box into the front foyer for her to use because she was just randomly peeing on the floor right there for no reason. Todd is very diligent about keeping the boxes in good order and no other cats take issue with them.
I just don't want her to suffer along, getting skinnier and skinnier, sicker and sicker. Sometimes I truly wonder if the vet's office has Sophie's best interests at heart. She's a veritable goldmine for them by way of check-ups, medicine, tests, shots, fluids, etc. Maybe that's crazy talk, but....
Showing posts with label Mr. Chesterfield. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mr. Chesterfield. Show all posts
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Gone, But Never Forgotten
My friends, as you can see, I haven't posted in a little while. The last week has been filled with much sadness and aggravation. I don't want to talk about the aggravation part, which I will only say can be mostly attributed to my job and its ever-increasing ability to DESTROY MY SOUL.
I need to talk about the sadness---a sadness so strong that I have been unable to articulate it here for nearly a week. And I'd venture to say that I still can't express it to its fullest depths.
Last Wednesday (11/12) Todd and I had to make the hardest, saddest decision of our lives. We had to have Mr. Chesterfield euthanized.
As you may recall from earlier posts I made over the summer, Mr. C had taken ill---rather mysteriously---sometime in August. He seemed to respond well to the medications and treatments we gave him and appeared to be doing ok all through the month of September and most of October. Sometime just before Halloween I thought that he looked terribly thin. He was not eating as much as usual. He was not nearly as vocal as he used to be. Mr. Chesterfield was a chatty cat, let me tell you! And he still had weird bald patches in his fur, but in different spots than he had before. He also seemed to have a cold and was wheezing. We also noticed that he had rubbed off all the fur on his nose. It was very odd.
However, as is the case with most cats, he never complained or gave us any indication that he was sick or hurting. Sometime in the first week of November we noticed that he wasn't peeing or pooping very much, if at all. His eating declined further. I picked him up one day and it was like picking up a stuffed animal. He felt like he weighed nothing. I could feel his ribcage. I cried that day. We weighed him as best we could and he was about 6.5 pounds. This cat was 12 pounds when we got him a year ago and was a little over 8 pounds when we last brought him to the vet in September.
Something was wrong. We knew we had to take him to the vet, but we were dreading the visit. We loved Mr. C and couldn't face the facts --- he was dying.
For the 3 days before we took him to the vet for his final visit, he ate practically nothing. He couldn't care less about food, water, cat-nip, treats or anything else for which he would normally come running. The only thing he did still enjoy was sitting about an inch away from the mini ceramic heater that we use in the upstairs office in our house. Maybe the concentrated heat on his old bones relieved pain or comforted him in some way. We'll never know.
The day we took him for euthanizing, we tried giving him treats; he refused them. He didn't want anything. We wanted his last moments in his home to be comfortable and the best they could be, so we turned on the heater for him one last time. He stood there, lovely, dignified, with his eyes squinted in delight. Putting him in his carrier after that was quite possibly the most heart-wrenching thing I have ever done.
We got to the vet's office---they knew ahead of time what was to be done---and were met by one of the vet's assistants, Jennifer. She is the sweetest, most considerate, caring, gentle person that you'd ever want to meet. I was immediately comforted that she was there to help attend to Mr. C in his last moments with us. We took him out of the carrier and she weighed him: 6 pounds, 4 ounces. They had placed a thick, navy blue, wool blanket on the exam table for him to lay on. He sat there like nothing was wrong. He was absolutely silent, calm, one paw tucked under and one paw resting out --- it was like nothing I have ever seen.
We waited what seemed like forever for our vet to come in. I think it was about 40 minutes. Todd and I just kept petting Mr. C and rubbing under his chin. We were both shaking, sick with terror at what lay ahead. Our vet came in and she examined Mr. C for herself. She agreed that it was time for him to go. His muscles had atrophied, the infected ulcerations in his mouth were back with a vengeance, and his kidneys were failing him. I believe he had sepsis as well. All the while she poked, prodded, and squeezed Mr. C, he never made a sound or resisted in any way. He remained quiet and peaceful, with his usual dignified expression. He was ready, I believe that now.
We were not.
She gave Mr. C a sedative so that he would fall asleep. And then we held his paws and stroked his head while she administered the lethal injection. As he let out a final little sigh, Mr. Chesterfield's sweet, gentle heart stopped beating forever and he was gone.
I felt like someone cut out my heart and tossed it out in the street. I had to try to hold back the
floodgate of tears I could feel ready to come pouring out of my eyes. Whatever grief I showed at that moment was nothing compared to Todd's. He sobbed uncontrollably. He was inconsolable. I managed to sign the paperwork for Mr. Chesterfield's ashes and we left via the side door. I wept in the car.
Today we're feeling better, mostly. I mean, we know it was the right thing to do. But we miss Mr. Chesterfield terribly, and always will. I know I will never meet another cat like Mr. C. I'll repeat what I've said countless times before: he was the sweetest, loveliest animal anyone could ever want as a pet. He is physically gone from this world, but never from our hearts and minds.
We love you, Mr. Chesterfield.
I need to talk about the sadness---a sadness so strong that I have been unable to articulate it here for nearly a week. And I'd venture to say that I still can't express it to its fullest depths.
Last Wednesday (11/12) Todd and I had to make the hardest, saddest decision of our lives. We had to have Mr. Chesterfield euthanized.
As you may recall from earlier posts I made over the summer, Mr. C had taken ill---rather mysteriously---sometime in August. He seemed to respond well to the medications and treatments we gave him and appeared to be doing ok all through the month of September and most of October. Sometime just before Halloween I thought that he looked terribly thin. He was not eating as much as usual. He was not nearly as vocal as he used to be. Mr. Chesterfield was a chatty cat, let me tell you! And he still had weird bald patches in his fur, but in different spots than he had before. He also seemed to have a cold and was wheezing. We also noticed that he had rubbed off all the fur on his nose. It was very odd.
However, as is the case with most cats, he never complained or gave us any indication that he was sick or hurting. Sometime in the first week of November we noticed that he wasn't peeing or pooping very much, if at all. His eating declined further. I picked him up one day and it was like picking up a stuffed animal. He felt like he weighed nothing. I could feel his ribcage. I cried that day. We weighed him as best we could and he was about 6.5 pounds. This cat was 12 pounds when we got him a year ago and was a little over 8 pounds when we last brought him to the vet in September.
Something was wrong. We knew we had to take him to the vet, but we were dreading the visit. We loved Mr. C and couldn't face the facts --- he was dying.
For the 3 days before we took him to the vet for his final visit, he ate practically nothing. He couldn't care less about food, water, cat-nip, treats or anything else for which he would normally come running. The only thing he did still enjoy was sitting about an inch away from the mini ceramic heater that we use in the upstairs office in our house. Maybe the concentrated heat on his old bones relieved pain or comforted him in some way. We'll never know.
The day we took him for euthanizing, we tried giving him treats; he refused them. He didn't want anything. We wanted his last moments in his home to be comfortable and the best they could be, so we turned on the heater for him one last time. He stood there, lovely, dignified, with his eyes squinted in delight. Putting him in his carrier after that was quite possibly the most heart-wrenching thing I have ever done.
We got to the vet's office---they knew ahead of time what was to be done---and were met by one of the vet's assistants, Jennifer. She is the sweetest, most considerate, caring, gentle person that you'd ever want to meet. I was immediately comforted that she was there to help attend to Mr. C in his last moments with us. We took him out of the carrier and she weighed him: 6 pounds, 4 ounces. They had placed a thick, navy blue, wool blanket on the exam table for him to lay on. He sat there like nothing was wrong. He was absolutely silent, calm, one paw tucked under and one paw resting out --- it was like nothing I have ever seen.
We waited what seemed like forever for our vet to come in. I think it was about 40 minutes. Todd and I just kept petting Mr. C and rubbing under his chin. We were both shaking, sick with terror at what lay ahead. Our vet came in and she examined Mr. C for herself. She agreed that it was time for him to go. His muscles had atrophied, the infected ulcerations in his mouth were back with a vengeance, and his kidneys were failing him. I believe he had sepsis as well. All the while she poked, prodded, and squeezed Mr. C, he never made a sound or resisted in any way. He remained quiet and peaceful, with his usual dignified expression. He was ready, I believe that now.
We were not.
She gave Mr. C a sedative so that he would fall asleep. And then we held his paws and stroked his head while she administered the lethal injection. As he let out a final little sigh, Mr. Chesterfield's sweet, gentle heart stopped beating forever and he was gone.
I felt like someone cut out my heart and tossed it out in the street. I had to try to hold back the
floodgate of tears I could feel ready to come pouring out of my eyes. Whatever grief I showed at that moment was nothing compared to Todd's. He sobbed uncontrollably. He was inconsolable. I managed to sign the paperwork for Mr. Chesterfield's ashes and we left via the side door. I wept in the car.
Today we're feeling better, mostly. I mean, we know it was the right thing to do. But we miss Mr. Chesterfield terribly, and always will. I know I will never meet another cat like Mr. C. I'll repeat what I've said countless times before: he was the sweetest, loveliest animal anyone could ever want as a pet. He is physically gone from this world, but never from our hearts and minds.
We love you, Mr. Chesterfield.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Info on Mr. Chesterfield...Plus...
First of all info on Mr. C:
He is HORRIBLY constipated, poor thing. Which apparently explains the bald patch on his upper back thigh area. He's been licking and pulling out his fur back there. His muscles are so sore and tender and that's the only way cats know how to deal with it. So we had them give him another enema. They said that "a lot was removed." So that's good.
As for the possible renal issues, well, we have to wait some more. They took more blood tonight and hopefully the results will come back showing an improvement. We should know tomorrow or Saturday. He's gained 2 ounces. But then again, that could be a build up of stuff in his colon, which they removed. Yuck.
Also, the vet recommended that we wean him off the BP medicine entirely, which is
something I've been wanting to do for a while too. So he's now down to .2 once a day. He seems ok now. I think he's a little confused and tired of being poked and prodded, understandably
So we're still in a holding pattern, somewhat. But things certainly look better than they did this morning.
Now the plus...
This is THE most hilarious picture from Lost that I've ever seen, I think. I'll have to keep looking for more. This is from Season 1, Episode 5: The White Rabbit. Yeah it's a slow week at work.... Enjoy!
Ok first of all, can I get Matthew Fox to come roll around on the ground with ME, please? Jesus Tap-dancing Christ; even filthy, grubby, & sweaty he's SMOKIN' HOTT. Second, look at Terry O'Quinn's face. LMFAO. He's probably like "GAH, MATT. YOU ARE CRUSHING MY LEFT ARM." Good stuff.
He is HORRIBLY constipated, poor thing. Which apparently explains the bald patch on his upper back thigh area. He's been licking and pulling out his fur back there. His muscles are so sore and tender and that's the only way cats know how to deal with it. So we had them give him another enema. They said that "a lot was removed." So that's good.
As for the possible renal issues, well, we have to wait some more. They took more blood tonight and hopefully the results will come back showing an improvement. We should know tomorrow or Saturday. He's gained 2 ounces. But then again, that could be a build up of stuff in his colon, which they removed. Yuck.
Also, the vet recommended that we wean him off the BP medicine entirely, which is
something I've been wanting to do for a while too. So he's now down to .2 once a day. He seems ok now. I think he's a little confused and tired of being poked and prodded, understandably
So we're still in a holding pattern, somewhat. But things certainly look better than they did this morning.
Now the plus...
This is THE most hilarious picture from Lost that I've ever seen, I think. I'll have to keep looking for more. This is from Season 1, Episode 5: The White Rabbit. Yeah it's a slow week at work.... Enjoy!
Ok first of all, can I get Matthew Fox to come roll around on the ground with ME, please? Jesus Tap-dancing Christ; even filthy, grubby, & sweaty he's SMOKIN' HOTT. Second, look at Terry O'Quinn's face. LMFAO. He's probably like "GAH, MATT. YOU ARE CRUSHING MY LEFT ARM." Good stuff.
Mr. Chesterfield Needs Your Good Karma!
Most of you who read this blog know that Todd and I have expanded from 1 cat to having 6 cats over the last 3 years or so. Our most recent addition is Mr. Chesterfield. We acquired him last year in September.
Even though he's only been in our family for less than a year, we adore Mr. Chesterfield. Last week (while I was away in NC) Todd needed to bring Mr. C and Sophie in for a check-up. Both of them are on medications---Sophie for thyroid and Mr. C for high blood pressure. You can imagine how concerned and sad I was Todd told me that the vet said that Mr. C was not doing well. He lost about 3 pounds. He was severely dehydrated. He had ulcers in his mouth that were infected. And his blood pressure didn't seem to be any better either.
Todd (the saint that he is with animals) made three visits to the vet with Mr. C, all during the week I was away. The initial visit with a blood test, then a visit for a urine sample/test, then a visit for an enema. Results of the blood and urine tests showed problems. Low levels of something-or-other. High levels of such-and-such. Whatever they were, they were definitely not good.
Now Mr. C is on a medication for the infectious ulcers, a stool-softener, his BP meds, and Todd has to give him an I.V. of fluids every night at dinner. :-(
The verdict? Well, we have one more visit to the vet today, to see how he's responding to the fluids and such. Probably another blood and/or urine test. Here's what the vet thinks. It's one of the following things:
1) Mild kidney toxicity caused by ingesting some chemical (like soapy water from our shower or worse, a cleaner for the shower). This most likely can be flushed through his system. This is the best-case scenario.
2) Averse reaction to his BP meds. Now, he's been on these for almost as long as we've had him. However, in January when he went in for a check-up, the vet said that his BP wasn't coming down enough so they raised the dose. It's possible that this higher dosage is too much for him and has caused the other problems.
3) Acute renal failure, or cancer, or liver failure. This means euthanasia. :-( :-( :-(
Mr. C doesn't seem to be showing any of the typical signs of a cat with kidney or liver failure. I know because I've had cats or have seen other's cats with these conditions. For one thing, he eats whatever you feed him. He drinks normally. He never throws up. He uses his litterbox without issue. He doesn't seem lethargic or abnormal in any other way. However, I believe that he is OLD. Whatever the folks at Forgotten Cats said was tragically incorrect. I think I recall that they aged him between 5 and 8. Our eye specialist vet said "at least 10." I think he's 15 or 16. I've always suspected that he was an old guy.
Anyway there are 2 things that we noticed that are different than normal.
One, he's been meowing or calling out a lot, especially in the evening. He's always done this. It will be 2:00 am and suddenly you'll hear "Meow! Meow! Meow!" Well last night it was noticeably more frequent and with greater intensity and length of time.
Second, on his right side towards the upper thigh, he is suddenly missing a patch of fur. We noticed it 2 days ago. Last night this bald patch seemed 3 times the size that it was when we first noticed it and the skin underneath was very flushed and hot. Maybe this is a reaction to the anti-biotic? Or maybe he's just stressed?
We have no idea. But all we know is that he's a sick kitty and we want him well again. As soon as I know anything about his condition from the vet, I'll post it here (good or bad).
So please send some love to Mr. Chesterfield today. <3
Even though he's only been in our family for less than a year, we adore Mr. Chesterfield. Last week (while I was away in NC) Todd needed to bring Mr. C and Sophie in for a check-up. Both of them are on medications---Sophie for thyroid and Mr. C for high blood pressure. You can imagine how concerned and sad I was Todd told me that the vet said that Mr. C was not doing well. He lost about 3 pounds. He was severely dehydrated. He had ulcers in his mouth that were infected. And his blood pressure didn't seem to be any better either.
Todd (the saint that he is with animals) made three visits to the vet with Mr. C, all during the week I was away. The initial visit with a blood test, then a visit for a urine sample/test, then a visit for an enema. Results of the blood and urine tests showed problems. Low levels of something-or-other. High levels of such-and-such. Whatever they were, they were definitely not good.
Now Mr. C is on a medication for the infectious ulcers, a stool-softener, his BP meds, and Todd has to give him an I.V. of fluids every night at dinner. :-(
The verdict? Well, we have one more visit to the vet today, to see how he's responding to the fluids and such. Probably another blood and/or urine test. Here's what the vet thinks. It's one of the following things:
1) Mild kidney toxicity caused by ingesting some chemical (like soapy water from our shower or worse, a cleaner for the shower). This most likely can be flushed through his system. This is the best-case scenario.
2) Averse reaction to his BP meds. Now, he's been on these for almost as long as we've had him. However, in January when he went in for a check-up, the vet said that his BP wasn't coming down enough so they raised the dose. It's possible that this higher dosage is too much for him and has caused the other problems.
3) Acute renal failure, or cancer, or liver failure. This means euthanasia. :-( :-( :-(
Mr. C doesn't seem to be showing any of the typical signs of a cat with kidney or liver failure. I know because I've had cats or have seen other's cats with these conditions. For one thing, he eats whatever you feed him. He drinks normally. He never throws up. He uses his litterbox without issue. He doesn't seem lethargic or abnormal in any other way. However, I believe that he is OLD. Whatever the folks at Forgotten Cats said was tragically incorrect. I think I recall that they aged him between 5 and 8. Our eye specialist vet said "at least 10." I think he's 15 or 16. I've always suspected that he was an old guy.
Anyway there are 2 things that we noticed that are different than normal.
One, he's been meowing or calling out a lot, especially in the evening. He's always done this. It will be 2:00 am and suddenly you'll hear "Meow! Meow! Meow!" Well last night it was noticeably more frequent and with greater intensity and length of time.
Second, on his right side towards the upper thigh, he is suddenly missing a patch of fur. We noticed it 2 days ago. Last night this bald patch seemed 3 times the size that it was when we first noticed it and the skin underneath was very flushed and hot. Maybe this is a reaction to the anti-biotic? Or maybe he's just stressed?
We have no idea. But all we know is that he's a sick kitty and we want him well again. As soon as I know anything about his condition from the vet, I'll post it here (good or bad).
So please send some love to Mr. Chesterfield today. <3
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
If I Were To Ask You...
...How many cats are on this bed?
First you'd say, "Um...too many?" Then, you'd say, "Three." From top clockwise: Hercules, Sophie (near my pillow, GORRAMIT), and Ophelia.
Good answer!
But WRONG:
Yes, that's Titus holed-up in there. (Love Fi-Fi's surprised/concerned look there, too.)
Come out of there, you goofy Squinty McFootball Head!
Here's Mr. Chesterfield poking around. He's really found his way around the house well. He's a lovely cat and super smart too.
And now, some close-ups:
First you'd say, "Um...too many?" Then, you'd say, "Three." From top clockwise: Hercules, Sophie (near my pillow, GORRAMIT), and Ophelia.
Good answer!
But WRONG:
Yes, that's Titus holed-up in there. (Love Fi-Fi's surprised/concerned look there, too.)
Come out of there, you goofy Squinty McFootball Head!
Here's Mr. Chesterfield poking around. He's really found his way around the house well. He's a lovely cat and super smart too.
And now, some close-ups:
Ophelia, looking very, very concerned (as usual):
Hercules, looking very, very confused (as usual):
And Luna, looking positively evil (as usual):
What's wrong with this photo?:
If you said that it has obscene amounts of yarn in it, then you are only partially correct.
Keep looking...
...see it yet?
This next picture will help....
Yup, Titus again. He just thinks everything is for him, you know?
Cats, OY!
What's wrong with this photo?:
If you said that it has obscene amounts of yarn in it, then you are only partially correct.
...see it yet?
This next picture will help....
Yup, Titus again. He just thinks everything is for him, you know?
Cats, OY!
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Mr. Chesterfield
This is Mr. Chesterfield:
Mr. Chesterfield is a sweet, dignified gentleman and he happens to be the latest addition to the Waters' family of cats.
I know.
I KNOW!
Don't hit!
See, Mr. Chesterfield has a unique story. He is really unlike any other cat we've adopted. No, really!
Last Friday, we happened to be in PetSmart buying supplies for our gaggle of felines who seem to eat us out of house and home. And, as usual, that local PetSmart was sponsoring a major adoption event on the weekend for "Forgotten Cats," a cat rescue organization here in Delaware. Well there were about 50 cats and kittens there---all beautiful animals. We walked by the cages, as we always do, and there was Mr. Chesterfield, standing there in his cubby hole, looking very sophisticated and content. I loved his face the moment I saw him.
When I noticed that his name was Mr. Chesterfield, I about died in a fire. It suits him so well. Todd read his little card and learned that Mr. C (as we now sometimes call him) is, in fact, nearly completely blind. Nobody knew if he was born blind (which I doubt) or how or when he lost his sight. His story was this: he was a family cat whose family decided they didn't want him any more (probably after he went blind, the bastiges), so they dumped him off in a feral colony of cats in a rural part of the state further south. Well, as you can imagine, those feral cats wanted nothing to do with this outsider, a feeling exacerbated by the fact that he was blind. So they kind of beat-up on him and prevented him from getting food, water, etc. Very sad. Someone who looked in on the colony from time-to-time discovered Mr. C there, and notified Forgotten Cats, who came and took him into foster care.
Well, we were immediately enamored with Mr. Chesterfield. Partly because he was calm and quiet, partly because he was blind and had such a sad life, partly because his name was R0XX0R, and partly because for Christ's sake, he's not a TABBY, we began seriously talking about taking him into our home. To make a long story short (too late, I know), we filled out the paperwork, it was accepted, and we picked him up Saturday afternoon.
Yes, he's a Bobtail, too!
We thought that maybe we had made a terrible mistake within the first 24 hours of having him at home. I mean, what were we DOING? A blind cat? Among FIVE other sighted---and mostly evil---cats? We kept him sequestered in my knitting room at night and let him roam around with supervision during the day. Understandably, whenever Mr. Chesterfield sensed one of our cats near him, he would hiss and growl. Who can blame him? This cat is at a serious disadvantage not being able to read the other cats' body language. Moreover, his recent experiences with a family of cats was not good.
I must say that I am absolutely proud of how well my cats have behaved around Mr. Chesterfield. Absolutely exemplary behavior. The only one I am concerned about is Ophelia. She is terrified of Mr. C. Whenever he gets within 4 feet of her, she just starts crying and runs away. Hercules, Luna, and Titus are incredibly curious about him, but not all up in his jimmy-jawn. Sophie, upon discovering that her insane parents had brought another cat into her house, just looked at Mr. Chesterfield, then at us with disdain, then she went, "Hrumph," and walked upstairs, like, "Oh, WHAT-EVER." Hercules wants to play with him, so he's been the cat to make the most attempts to get close to Mr. C. Every day, Mr. C gets a little more familiar with Herc and everyone else (except Fi-Fi). It really is getting better every day.
I think we may even be at the point we we don't have to keep him sequestered from the others when we are not around. My bunch have made no attempts to hurt him or take his food, water, or use his litter box. So, Mr. Chesterfield is slowly realizing that he is safe and that there is no threat. He is very sweet, loves to be petted, and actually sleeps in his own little pet bed! He is so smart! Whenever he goes into a room that is unfamiliar, he walks in a 3-foot circle to orient himself. The other cats are mesmerized by this. So much so that they will literally sit and watch him for 30 minutes at a time.
The information given to us by the folks at Forgotten Cats states that he is about 5-6 years old. I have a feeling that he is a bit older than that. Maybe about 10. I have no problem with his age. We are taking him to our vet next Thursday, just to make sure that he is healthy otherwise. Although I do know that he doesn't have Feline HIV or Leukemia. And I would like to get our vet's analysis of his blindness. I wonder if there is hope for him to get some measure of his sight back?
Anyway, he really is a lovely cat, with a charming personality. He totally won both Todd's and my hearts. Not hard to understand why. Sigh. Six cats. The asylum awaits me, I know.
Mr. Chesterfield is a sweet, dignified gentleman and he happens to be the latest addition to the Waters' family of cats.
I know.
I KNOW!
Don't hit!
See, Mr. Chesterfield has a unique story. He is really unlike any other cat we've adopted. No, really!
Last Friday, we happened to be in PetSmart buying supplies for our gaggle of felines who seem to eat us out of house and home. And, as usual, that local PetSmart was sponsoring a major adoption event on the weekend for "Forgotten Cats," a cat rescue organization here in Delaware. Well there were about 50 cats and kittens there---all beautiful animals. We walked by the cages, as we always do, and there was Mr. Chesterfield, standing there in his cubby hole, looking very sophisticated and content. I loved his face the moment I saw him.
When I noticed that his name was Mr. Chesterfield, I about died in a fire. It suits him so well. Todd read his little card and learned that Mr. C (as we now sometimes call him) is, in fact, nearly completely blind. Nobody knew if he was born blind (which I doubt) or how or when he lost his sight. His story was this: he was a family cat whose family decided they didn't want him any more (probably after he went blind, the bastiges), so they dumped him off in a feral colony of cats in a rural part of the state further south. Well, as you can imagine, those feral cats wanted nothing to do with this outsider, a feeling exacerbated by the fact that he was blind. So they kind of beat-up on him and prevented him from getting food, water, etc. Very sad. Someone who looked in on the colony from time-to-time discovered Mr. C there, and notified Forgotten Cats, who came and took him into foster care.
Well, we were immediately enamored with Mr. Chesterfield. Partly because he was calm and quiet, partly because he was blind and had such a sad life, partly because his name was R0XX0R, and partly because for Christ's sake, he's not a TABBY, we began seriously talking about taking him into our home. To make a long story short (too late, I know), we filled out the paperwork, it was accepted, and we picked him up Saturday afternoon.
Yes, he's a Bobtail, too!
We thought that maybe we had made a terrible mistake within the first 24 hours of having him at home. I mean, what were we DOING? A blind cat? Among FIVE other sighted---and mostly evil---cats? We kept him sequestered in my knitting room at night and let him roam around with supervision during the day. Understandably, whenever Mr. Chesterfield sensed one of our cats near him, he would hiss and growl. Who can blame him? This cat is at a serious disadvantage not being able to read the other cats' body language. Moreover, his recent experiences with a family of cats was not good.
I must say that I am absolutely proud of how well my cats have behaved around Mr. Chesterfield. Absolutely exemplary behavior. The only one I am concerned about is Ophelia. She is terrified of Mr. C. Whenever he gets within 4 feet of her, she just starts crying and runs away. Hercules, Luna, and Titus are incredibly curious about him, but not all up in his jimmy-jawn. Sophie, upon discovering that her insane parents had brought another cat into her house, just looked at Mr. Chesterfield, then at us with disdain, then she went, "Hrumph," and walked upstairs, like, "Oh, WHAT-EVER." Hercules wants to play with him, so he's been the cat to make the most attempts to get close to Mr. C. Every day, Mr. C gets a little more familiar with Herc and everyone else (except Fi-Fi). It really is getting better every day.
I think we may even be at the point we we don't have to keep him sequestered from the others when we are not around. My bunch have made no attempts to hurt him or take his food, water, or use his litter box. So, Mr. Chesterfield is slowly realizing that he is safe and that there is no threat. He is very sweet, loves to be petted, and actually sleeps in his own little pet bed! He is so smart! Whenever he goes into a room that is unfamiliar, he walks in a 3-foot circle to orient himself. The other cats are mesmerized by this. So much so that they will literally sit and watch him for 30 minutes at a time.
The information given to us by the folks at Forgotten Cats states that he is about 5-6 years old. I have a feeling that he is a bit older than that. Maybe about 10. I have no problem with his age. We are taking him to our vet next Thursday, just to make sure that he is healthy otherwise. Although I do know that he doesn't have Feline HIV or Leukemia. And I would like to get our vet's analysis of his blindness. I wonder if there is hope for him to get some measure of his sight back?
Anyway, he really is a lovely cat, with a charming personality. He totally won both Todd's and my hearts. Not hard to understand why. Sigh. Six cats. The asylum awaits me, I know.
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