why i did not make the bed today
October 16, 2005
October 25, 2004
he used to be so tiny
July 15, 2004
running rings
skillet has a brand new toy. it's round and green and comes free with the purchase of a half-gallon of lowfat milk.
he will chase the milk ring for hours, carrying it proudly in his mouth, dropping it on purpose just to scoop it up again with eager, grasping paws. he is happiest when we're throwing it for him — unsatisfying for us, since it's too light to throw very far. it requires only a short trot on skillet's part before we're throwing it again. and again. ad infinitum.
he brings it to us while we sleep at night, and romps with it among the bedclothes until we eject him from the room. this morning i woke up accompanied by the rollicking cat, the milk ring, and the giant rubber band that is his second-favorite toy, just in case i hadn't gotten the message.
June 03, 2004
my distinguished colleagues
my coworkers came to my office this morning for a very important meeting. unfortunately, they slept through most of it.
May 01, 2004
he thinks he's comfortable
the kitten clearly thinks that's a comfy position, but how could it possibly be?
April 28, 2004
for a limited time only
we have kitten-on-the-lap cam!
scroll down the page and look on the right.
update: i had the camera on the desk, but the kitten was so entranced by the velcro strap on the tripod that he couldn't resist batting it around. the camera is now on the floor, wherever he last dragged it.
March 25, 2004
not shown: thermos, plotting our demise
March 23, 2004
March 18, 2004
"ah, my arch-nemesis. we meet at last."
mooooOOooooOOOOOOoooooo.
the kitten, of course, is utterly unconcerned, and feels that no special caution is in order. when they're together he antagonizes thermos mercilessly, stalking him, springing on him, thrilled to have found something new to bite.
- squaring off face to face
- the kitten, who has no tail, admires thermos's
- "i wonder if this is fun to bite."
- "knock it off, you furry jerk."
- "he won't notice if i just..."
- "rats. he noticed."
March 16, 2004
today's kitten update
so, um, our kitten likes to fetch.
no, really.
i can prove it.
he also likes to sleep in a half-packed box of books from my upstairs office, but that's not quite as cute.
March 15, 2004
how we spent the morning
we've had the new kitten for about 18 hours now and already he's been very helpful.
this morning he helped me install some new software. then he decided to organize some magazines. then there was some much-needed rolling around to be taken care of with all deliberate haste.
it tired him right out. even the most helpful kitten needs a nap once in a while.
January 06, 2004
he was fine
lunch died this morning. we'd planned to take him to massachusetts to see the thyroid specialist, but this morning when we arrived at the vet's to pick him up, he was unconscious. he'd begun to exhibit more obvious signs of neurological problems, and the thyroid specialist said she doubted there was anything she could do for him — it sounded like a brain tumor, after all.
we patted him, though he didn't know we were there, and stood by as the vet put him to sleep.
he was a very fine cat.
January 01, 2004
stashed
last night we couldn't find thermos. at about six o'clock paul said, "i wonder where thermos is. i haven't seen him all day." because thermos has a cold, i figured he was just hiding somewhere, and didn't give it much thought. but when we hadn't been able to track him down by nine, i was a little bit worried.
we looked everywhere, even inside closets we were sure we hadn't opened, inside suitcases that had been zipped closed, bathroom cabinets, everywhere.
everywhere except nestled within my quilting fabric stash, tucked neatly in among the black-and-white prints.
December 19, 2003
how can he work the remote if he has no opposable thumbs?
lunch is currently enjoying a retreat at the cat hospital, where he is, i am told, resting comfortably after being shot chock full of radioactive goo. (why does this make me think of butterball turkeys?)
"our nuclear medicine ward is furnished with large, comfortable condos with continuous music and videos for enrichment," promises the hospital's web site. his own condo. music. videos.
"unfortunately, no visitors are allowed," the text continues. but that's okay. lunch will be too busy catching up with the latest hollywood blockbusters and, you know, rocking out with eminem to miss me.
December 05, 2003
well, that didn't take long.
December 04, 2003
nesting comfortably
today i bought lunch a round little bed. i wasn't sure he'd sleep in it, but not eight hours after the purchase he seems to have made it his own. when he lies on his side and puts his head down he fills it entirely, neatly curled into a furry donut.
what's really going to be great is when thermos decides he should try to wangle his way in alongside lunch.
the bed is made of that orthopedic egg carton foam ("orthopedic kitty nest," reads the tag), and its cover, which can be removed for washing, is berber fleece.
the bed was on sale at petstuffcoland, but it still cost $18. clearly my joy at lunch's good prognosis pushed me right over the edge into insanity.
bug the cat
today we took lunch to the cat specialist in burlington, the closest person the state has to a veterinary neurologist.
she put lunch through his paces. here are some highlights.
- stupid pet flicks. the cat is made to lie on his side, while the vet flicks his haunches briskly, checking for a reflex. (paul is made to hold the cat, while julie clucks sympathetically.)
- lord of the dance. the cat's front half is held up so that he's standing on his hind legs, with his back feet just touching the examination table. as the vet drags his top half along, the rest of the cat is made to follow by walking along on his hind feet. (paul and julie snicker.)
- is this bugging you? i'm not touching you. the vet waggles a shiny instrument within the cat's peripheral vision. the cat's only job: look annoyed, flinch occasionally.
- is this bugging you? i am touching you. the vet brushes the cat's whiskers and ears with said shiny instrument. the cat displays an impressive array of upper-body tics.
- wheelbarrow races. this one is the best. the vet puts the cat on the table, then lifts his hind legs far into the air. the cat sensibly tries to run away. hilarity ensues. julie wets self laughing.
the upshot of all these exercises? the vet said very definitely that she doesn't believe he has a brain tumor — she said that even if the steroids had reduced the swelling of a tumor, he would still have some residual neurological effects. but lunch has none. he is "perfect" neurologically.
i mean, he's not smart, but that's different.
the vet seemed entirely confident that the whole espisode was the result of a bad reaction on the part of his immune system to the thyroid drugs. not common, she said, but she's seen a couple of similar cases before. her advice was to cease the thyroid drugs immediately and to get him zapped full of radiation as soon as possible.
so the upshot is that the cat is entirely pissed at us for letting this stranger do the wheelbarrow with him and laughing about it — but we are immensely relieved and appreciative.
November 24, 2003
lunch left in lurch
poor beleaguered lunch came back from his stay at the hospital with his forepaws partly shaved. i can't be sure, but i think i heard thermos snickering at the spectacle. (click the tiny picture to bask in lunch's shame.)
this is not lunch's first such episode. about five years ago he had...some kind of cerebral event...that left him lurching unsteadily, with his head tilting slightly to the right. the lurch went away and he regained most of his agility, but the tilt has persisted, giving him a charming inquisitive look. we think it was a stroke, but can't be sure.
now his tilt is decidedly more pronounced.
November 21, 2003
the cat came back
lunch came home yesterday afternoon, with shaved forepaws and a decidedly pronounced head tilt.
he ate some stinky canned food, let himself be patted, and walked all around getting used to the place again.
this morning he talked to me as i groggily stirred my coffee-flavored beverage, then purred loudly as i patted him.
he is still rather wobbly and requires six pills twice daily. could be a brain tumor. could be a stroke. the only way to tell just now is time. (well, time or an mri.)
but he's feeling friendly and doesn't seem to be hurting. i'm glad to have him back.
November 19, 2003
a new cat
this morning's word from the vet is that lunch is like a brand new cat.
he's eating, moving around, and even raising hell inside his cage — this morning he'd trashed the place.
our manx cat is back and he's ready to rumble.
they think they'll send him home tomorrow morning. we planned to go visit him, forgetting that the vet closes early on wednesdays, so we'll have to wait to see him when we pick him up.
a brand new cat!
November 18, 2003
manxwatch
the last few days have been really, really rough. i didn't write about this the other day, but when lunch went in to the cat hospital on friday, he seemed to be in dire straits: he wasn't eating, he seemed to have gone blind, and he was exhibiting this alarming tendency to walk only around the contours of a room, hugging the walls, walking through whatever obstacles were in his way (food bowl, water dish).
it was terrifying.
the news throughout the weekend wasn't good. he still wasn't eating and had lost his ability to walk and control his bladder. paul and i expected to have to make a very hard decision this week.
and we still may have to. but lunch has shown a marked improvement from yesterday. overnight he ate on his own, and today he was sitting up and moving around in his cage. he walked down the hall without major incident.
this was the best news i've heard in days.
the vet suspects he may have an infection of the central nervous system that is responding to the new antibiotics and steroids he's being given. it could also be that he had a brain bleed that's now resolving itself.
he has a long way to go if he's going to recover. we are only cautiously optimistic and trying to stay realistic about his prognosis, but it sure beats the hell out of preparing to say goodbye.
November 15, 2003
i miss our cat
lunch is staying at the vet's this weekend getting fluids intravenously. he has no interest in eating — not even chicken, his favorite food — so it's a relief to know he's at least getting some nourishment via needle.
the most important lab numbers came back normal, so we know it's not kidney or liver failure. his thyroid level is elevated again, which is expected; we'd stopped the thyroid meds on the theory that he was having a bad reaction to them.
he may just be depressed. i am, too. i miss lunch.
November 13, 2003
i hope i didn't speak too soon.
for those of you hanging on every word i post about my cat, i have a troubling update.
the vet said yesterday that the elevated pancreatic enzyme in lunch's blood was nothing to worry about, and his other test results were encouraging. but yesterday and today lunch has been extremely lethargic, hiding in the alcove behind the washer and dryer, obviously nauseated and unhappy.
he's going back to the vet this afternoon, if we can pry him out of his inaccessible little cave. my guess is that they'll keep him there for a few days — the treatment for pancreatic problems is to rest the pancreas by keeping the cat off food and water taken orally, keeping him hydrated intravenuously or subcutaneously.
wish us luck in getting him into the box, and wish him luck in feeling better very soon.
November 12, 2003
manx, convalescent
i am happy to report that lunch's bloodwork results are encouraging!
his thyroid levels are back down to normal. his kidney and liver function, which can be affected by the medication, are fine. his red blood cell count is a bit high, which can be explained by the repeated blood draws. his pancreatic function is still a matter of some concern, but the vet explained that the tests for that enzyme are often of questionable value. he'll be calling — get this — an internal medicine specialist to discuss lunch's pancreas.
he came back from his weekend at the vet's with a new shaved patch on his throat. when i touch it, it feels like warm suede. (i guess it is warm suede.)
not only has the medication improved his thyroid condition, it's helped him return to his former friendliness. although he's not quite as affectionate as usual, he's improved greatly — even after i pilled him last night he circled back around for more patting.
since he is well on his way to recovery, i guess i can throw away this ad i found in the local paper:
October 26, 2003
manx cat, manx cat, glowing bright
paul and i have a fundamental disagreement that may one day rock the very foundation of our marriage. he refuses to concede that lunch is the finest cat who ever lived. how can someone i love have such a breathtaking blind spot? it's almost like being married to a creationist. or maybe a republican.
our irreconcilable difference aside, we've noticed in the past week or so that lunch has been behaving strangely. not strangely for a cat, but strangely for lunch. he hides sometimes. he occasionally gets spooked for no apparent reason and hastens away. he hasn't been coming when called, or bringing me his stuffed worm as frequently, and, although he clearly wants to jump up onto my lap now and then, he does not — he sits and considers it thoroughly, but eventually decides against it and lumbers away.
i know what your diagnosis is. "julie, he's a cat." but if you knew lunch well, you'd agree that while he's behaving normally for a garden-variety cat, his behavior does not befit the finest cat who ever lived. concerned, we took him in to see the vet.
the vet stared at us blankly when we described lunch's symptoms. it's not hard to see why; he doesn't look like a sick cat. his eyes are clear, he's not dehydrated, and his color is good. (he's a lovely gray with patches of clean white, but what i really mean is that his gums and nose leather are a vibrant pink.) oh, and he had no fever, measured in the usual way to lunch's great consternation. the doctor said, "he doesn't seem ill to me. i'd suggest that you wait and see how he acts over the next week."
thing is, we'd already waited and seen — in fact, we'd spent the last week saying, "yeah...we should really take him in," but hoping that he'd miraculously come out of his funk and act like the lunch we know and love. we asked the vet if he could take lunch's blood, and he agreed (though somewhat reluctantly) to do a screen for fip, flv, liver, and thyroid.
thyroid. bingo. in older cats — any cat over eight years of age — it's very common to see hyperthyroidism. it's apparently a disease of old age, in fact; if you're a cat and you live long enough, you're likely to have at least mild thyroid dysfunction. your thyroid glands develop tumorous growths, like a goiter, almost always benign. your glands produce too much of the thyroid hormone, which increases your metabolism. if you're not treated, you'll lose weight and muscle mass even as your appetite increases. the disease will take its toll on your entire body: your heart will enlarge, your blood pressure will increase, and your kidneys will fail from the additional burden.
but take heart! you are not a cat. and, more to the point, apparently hyperthyroidism is eminently treatable. there are three approaches a pet owner can take:
- medication. you can experience the thrill of pilling the cat at least twice a day for the rest of its life.
- surgery. you can have the animal's thyroid glands surgically removed (warning: gory photo).
- radioactive iodine. you can have your cat injected with, yes, radioactive iodine, which will destroy the damaged thyroid tissue while leaving the heathy parts intact.
the last option is kind of the gold standard of treatment, although it has the disadvantages of a) being shockingly expensive and b) making your cat glow in the dark for a few weeks. (in fact, the cat must be quarantined for about a week, and then handled carefully for the next few weeks due to, you know, radiation.)
we'll talk to the vet on monday to decide which treatment is best for lunch. i am eager to pursue the radioiodine therapy. although it's expensive, it is the most effective treatment — and, entirely coincidentally, will make for the best journal entry.
paul helpfully reminded me that we do have a geiger counter in the downstairs coat closet. i predict i will swiftly become a menace. "luuuuu-unch! come get your millirems counted!"
update: at breakfast paul and i were wondering how close the nearest treatment center is. at first we thought boston, but then montreal occurred to us as a possibility. "but i don't know," said paul, "if they'll let us back over the border with a radioactive cat."
October 17, 2003
really. don't look.
for the love of god, do not click here unless you want to see what thermos killed last night.
betty, i'm not kidding. do not look at that picture.
update: it appears that many of you have, in fact, looked. what can i say? i tried to warn you.
August 07, 2003
soft goods
i went into the sewing room today to start putting away the fabric that was piled on my cutting table. clearly thermos longed to be folded, stacked, and stored.
July 27, 2003
cat cam
lunch likes to sit on my windowsill. today he is directly in front of the webcam, looking out upon his domain.
June 24, 2003
it was pretty warm here today.
June 02, 2003
minimanx
inspired by ranjit's minipups, i have built a minimanx:
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May 23, 2003
"kill me. i beg of you."
and y'all thought what i did to lunch was mean:
This is a dear chicken transformation set. It is made from the two-tone felt cloth of yellow and orange, and even if it takes, it is finished to the pop impression. Please observe the feather of the chicken currently attached to the both sides of a hat. please imagine a profile when a cat covers it is as dear as it blows off involuntarily -- since it can equip with the head volume to which the reed of a chicken also attached — hat on a piece of Velcro, attachment and detachment are easy.check out the entire wardrobe of outfits you can buy to transform your family pet.
link found on clive thompson's collision detection.
April 13, 2003
look, i just can't help it.
i know i post too many pictures of our cats. but i simply can't help it. when thermos finds the only patch of sun in the room, and then does this, yawning as he luxuriates, what else am i supposed to do?
behold the mighty hunter
one of lunch's most endearing talents is that he fetches. you throw his stuffed multicolored worm for him and he trots off after it (or gallops, if he's feeling particularly bloodthirsty). he carefully picks it up, clamps his powerful jaws around its lifeless carcass, and brings it back, yowling the whole time with his mouth full to let you know he's on his way. then he drops it, looks up expectantly, and trills proudly.
then i make much of him, and throw it again. this can go on for days.
sometimes i wake up in the morning staring at the worm, which he's thoughtfully left on my pillow. sometimes, just as i'm dropping off to sleep, i hear the telltale jingle of the bell inside it as lunch hurries into the room, baying happily, proud of his kill. and sometimes, exhausted from the hunt, lunch cradles his trophy jealously as he sleeps, guarding it from -- i don't know, jackals? hyenas? vultures?
April 02, 2003
not to be outdone
April 01, 2003
arrangement in gray and black
if there's a patch of sun to be found in the entire state, thermos will seek it out and arrange himself sexily in it.
March 26, 2003
do not disturb
he's disturbed enough already.
March 11, 2003
bad cat
no wonder there's cat hair all over the clean clothes.
February 27, 2003
the view from my desk chair
January 19, 2003
laptop computer, laptop lunch
woke up at 6 this morning with a cat on my head. it was the last in a long series of tries on lunch's part to get under the covers with me. i finally gave up sleeping as the bad job it was and went into the den, where i built a fire and settled onto the sofa under a quilt. shortly thereafter, lunch trotted in carrying his worm in his mouth, as a peace offering, i suppose, and was so winning that i let him hop up and snuggle with me. as i type this right now, lunch is once again nestled close, weighing down my right arm with twelve pounds of catmeat.
breaking news: oh, boy, oh, boy, i just ordered lunch a toy worm wearing earmuffs. he'll look even more ridiculous toting it around. but i'm pretty sure he can take it. he has borne indignity before.