cats – Page 35 – red paper boat

The Afflicted

November 12, 2005October 4, 2015 Shelly

Did I mention that I’m fed up with being sick? Well, it’s true, I am. Yesterday morning I ate an entire 9ct package of Halls cough drops–the extra disgusting ones in the blue wrapper–and still couldn’t stop coughing. Not only was there no residual benefit, but they didn’t even stop me from coughing while I was sucking on them. Damn! Today, I can finally breathe for short periods of time without coughing. Or, I would be able to, if I could to breathe at all. And then there’s the fact that I feel like my head has been stuffed with a wool blanket, then shoved into a fish bowl. I can’t hear a thing, and every time I blow my nose, it gets worse. Living in a hilly area doesn’t help, either, because every time I drive up or down a hill, the pressure in my ears increases. Ow!

In convalescing cat news, Rory is doing swell. He woke me up in the middle of the night (or, he would’ve, if I hadn’t felt too crappy to sleep), digging furiously in his litter box. I got up to check on him, and found a nice little present waiting for me. Yay! He’s eating and drinking on his own, now, too, so I’m quite pleased with his progress.

I’ve had a difficult time, feeling like I have to justify to others why I would be “foolish” enough to spend a big chunk of money and lots of time and effort to save a feral (former) barn cat. When I called in to work one day last week to say that I wouldn’t be in because I had to take Rory in for surgery, the coworker who answered the phone told me “You need to put him to sleep.” Um, no, I need to do no such thing. It’s not like I was asking for sympathy or advice or any sort of input whatsoever. At no time have I invited her, or anyone else, to comment on whether or not I was making the right decision in pursuing treatment instead of putting him down. Hrmph. I wish some folks would learn to mind their own business. So, if any of y’all have ever felt the urge to say something similar, please do everyone a favor and reconsider. You likely have no idea what factors are involved, or how complex the issue is. Everything from the bond felt by the owner, to the chances for a good outcome, to the pre- and post-procedure quality of life, to monetary resources, are part of the equation. What seems like an obvious conclusion to one person may not be acceptable to another. My coworker felt that I was packing money down the proverbial rat hole. Monetary concerns are apparently at the top of her list of things to consider, which is perfectly valid. Cost was at the bottom of my list, though, so my “obvious conclusion” was the opposite of her “obvious conclusion.”

And, for what it’s worth, it’s not like I hadn’t considered all the options and weighed them carefully. I did. After talking to the vet, I decided that Rory’s chances of having an acceptable quality and length of life were reasonably good. Another thing I considered was Rory’s temperament. He’s been withdrawn and freaked out at the vet’s office, but at home, he’s been in good spirits. He’s always been relaxed and gregarious with me and the other animals, and that hasn’t changed with his illness. Even now, he clearly enjoys the life he has, and it’s important, I think, that he be able to enjoy more of it.

Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

All About Asses

November 11, 2005October 4, 2015 Shelly

First, the Crankypantsing and Nitpicking:

It’s crapS shoot, not crap shoot. Shooting crap is what Kenny did, and if that’s what you’re suffering from, I suggest seeking medical attention ASAP.
I hope that whoever went a-Googling for “ejaculating your cat” found, um, help. Ew.
It’s not a good idea to drive down the highway in the pitch dark without headlights. I’m just sayin’. Even if it weren’t a safety issue, it tends to creep out people like me when you sneak up behind us. Asswagon.
I hope that whoever gave me the plague (respiratory, not crap-shooting) is enjoying my misery, because I’m sure as hell not. I’m tired of blowing my nose and sucking on cough drops. Enough, already!

This is the view from my front door, looking to the southeast. I got only a few photos of the foliage after it (finally!) turned color, but before it got blown to smithereens by last weekend’s storm. This was taken on the one nice, clear day we had during that interval.

Rory Update:

Rory had PU (Perineal Urethrostomy) surgery on Tuesday. Basically, it involves amputation of the penis and widening of the urethra. This was the last resort for him, as his urethra and bladder were in terrible shape from years of crystals and, we found, stones. He was a mass of inflamed scar tissue. Once we’re able to get the uroliths properly diagnosed, he can be put on a food that will inhibit their growth. The surgery will hopefully allow him to pass any stones or crystals that do develop.

The surgery went well, but he was stressed by being at the vet, so she recommended that I take him home ASAP. I picked him up Wednesday after work. He looked good, and seemed relatively comfortable and relaxed during the drive home. He stretched out in his carrier and chatted with me. I think he now understands that when I pick him up at the vet, it means he’s going home, home, home.

Physically and mentally, I think he’s doing well. His stitches look good, though he’s got the funniest baboon ass in captivity. It’s shaved and still dyed red from the antiseptic. I’ll try to get a photo of it (it’s truly special), if I can. He’s all about the sweet, sweet lovin’, though, so getting a photo of his back end will be difficult. He’s too busy having me scratch and rub his head and neck to turn around.

He’s not into the prescription food, unfortunately. I think part of the problem is that it’s canned, and he’s not a big fan of canned food. He usually takes a couple of bites and leaves the rest. The vet said that, since we’re waiting for urolith analysis, I can go ahead and feed him his old food for the time being. It took him awhile to get the knack of eating with the satellite dish around his head, but by late yesterday afternoon, he was getting pretty good at it. He’s still not drinking on his own, though, so I’m having to force water down him with a syringe. He’s not happy about it, but he’s got the attention span of a gnat, so as soon as I’m finished, he forgets that he hates me. It’s nice to have a cat who is incapable of holding a grudge.

He’s peeing like a champ, which is a huge relief–nice, big pools of it, too, instead of the little spots that were common when he’d start blocking or would get a UTI. I’m concerned that he’s not had a bowel movement, but I think the fact that he fasted for a few days accounts for that. He didn’t start eating well until later in the day yesterday, so it may take awhile for things to start, um, moving through him properly.

Photography

Autumn Photoblogging

November 8, 2005October 4, 2015 Shelly

St. Andrews Cross Spider (Argiope aurantia)

The grasshopper was hanging out on my deck this afternoon. It’s a little late in the season for bugs, but it’s been warm, so they’re still active. There was something cricket-like chirping away last night, and the evil Japanese beetles are swarming.

We’ve had a few nice sunsets recently. The third photo is of the last full moon, rising in the east, with the Belt of Venus.

I had been dubious about the trees turning color, but we seem to have gotten enough rain in time. Most of the leaves have dropped, after last weekend’s blowing winds, but I got a few photos before that happened. I love the contrast of the oranges, yellows, and reds–lit by the near-setting sun–against the heavy, grey clouds.

Auntie Em! Auntie Em! As I mentioned, we had a hell of a storm over the weekend. It had been super windy during the day on Saturday, but warm and the sky seemed to clear up a bit in the afternoon. That night, the wind picked up, with gusts up to 65mph. Yikes! I woke up at 1:45, scared half to death. There aren’t any storm sirens, because I live in the country, so I turned on the television to see if there were any weather alerts. The Terre Haute stations, which usually have the best weather coverage for my area, were still on regular programming. ABC from Indy had radar up, but, because Indy is the center of their universe, they weren’t showing or discussing what was going on in the southern part of the state. Bastards!

A little after 2:00am, CBS from Terra Haute started covering the storm. We were under a severe thunderstorm warning, but as far as the radar and coverage went, the storm didn’t sound all that serious. It slacked off a bit, then it started to hail, then all hell broke loose. Um, that’s when tornadoes usually occur–on the back end of the storm. And they’re often accompanied by hail. Yikes. Luckily, all we had were heavy straight-line winds. The folks south of us, though, were not as lucky. [ETA: According to Wikipedia, 25 people died. It was the deadliest tornado to hit the state in 30 years.]

Tangent Alert! While I was flipping channels, looking for storm info, I came across an episode of Soul Train. That show is still on? Oh my. What really caught my attention, though, was the animated Soul Train logo. How rude! I looked to see if I could find it online, but couldn’t. So, I shall attempt to describe it. Picture an animated, silver steam engine. Picture it with a big, fat penis on top. Picture the penis ejaculating spasmotically. Picture the train thrusting in time to the penis’ spasms. O ick. Perhaps that might explain why the show airs at 2am?

I’m supposed to go to Chicago tomorrow night, so see Bauhaus. It doesn’t look like it’s going to happen, though, which I’m bummed about. Rory-cat is having surgery this afternoon, and will hopefully come home tomorrow, so I’ll have to stay home to keep an eye on him. He spent a week and a half hospitalized for a severe UTI, struvite crystals, and recurring blockages. I brought him home yesterday and he blocked again. He was in good spirits, soliciting attention and chin rubs, but he wasn’t eating, drinking, or eliminating. Clearly, he was blocked again. The last resort is surgery to have his penis amputated and to widen his urethra. Hopefully, it will successfully solve his problems, and he’ll be able to have a good quality of life. He’s a damnfine cat, and I think he deserves to have a shot at having a good, comfortable life, if possible.

Uncategorized

Are We There Yet?

November 4, 2005October 4, 2015 Shelly

Is it really Friday? Finally? This has been a spectacularly long and worrisome week, and I’m glad it’s pretty much wrapped up.

Saturday, I woke up to find that Rory had another blockage. One of the vets from the 24-hour emergency clinic has a practice about 30 minutes south of me, so I took him there. The plan was that the vet would clear the blockage, then take Rory home with him that night and take him to work at the emergency clinic with him the next day. He cleared the blockage and catheterized him, but he became blocked again. That blockage was cleared, and I was supposed to pick him up Thursday, but he became blocked yet again. Apparently, the crystals in his bladder are so compacted that they’re like concrete. There is also quite a bit of scar tissue in his bladder and urethra. Poor cat. That has to be hellishly painful.

Luckily, one of the vets who works at the emergency clinic also has a cat clinic–in Spencer! She’s got ultrasound equipment at her clinic and will, hopefully, be able to break up the mass of crystals so that they can be passed. Assuming that goes well, he’ll come home on Saturday or Monday to recover. Later, he’ll need to have his urethra widened, so that if more crystals form, they will be able to be passed.

I have no idea what a week’s stay at an emergency clinic is going to cost. I don’t want to know how much it’s going to cost. The mere thought makes me want to throw up.

So, since I’m in denial, I thought I’d engage in some retail therapy. Not a lot of retail therapy, mind you, but a little bit.

When I was in 4^th grade, our class read a dramatic adaptation of Anne Frank’s diary. It was a bizarre experience, because the story covered only her time in hiding. There was very little explanation for why she was in hiding, or for what happened to her after her family was found. I expect that the powers that be decided that such details were beyond the comprehension of young children (heck, they’re beyond the comprehension of most adults) or that they might give kids nightmares (again, who wouldn’t get nightmares?). The thing that sticks out in my mind is that we were told that concentration camp victims were treated like dogs, and that Anne died a month before her camp was liberated. I remember visualizing people being kept in dog kennels and being fed dog food, and, while that would’ve sucked mightily, I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out why people had died from it. Let that be a lesson to those who deal with children to be careful what you tell them.

I read the Scholastic edition of Anne’s diary when I was in 6^th grade. By that time, I better understood what had happened during the Holocaust and what it meant to be an inmate in one of the Nazi death camps. I also began to understand why I found Anne’s story so interesting. Obviously, it gave me a window on the Holocaust. The horrors that happened are like stars in the sky–too numerous to comprehend when taken all together. But, looking at those events through the lens of one person’s experience provides a framework to hang everything on. More importantly for me, though, I think my fascination with Anne’s story lay in the realization that one person’s voice can be important; that a single voice can resonate so clearly across time and space

The Nazis could kill millions of people, but they couldn’t stifle the voice of one small girl. That is power.

So, anyway, when I was in high school, my family moved across state. I lost almost all of my childhood books, including my well worn copy of Anne Frank’s diary. I haven’t read it since then, and I thought it was about time to visit my old friend.

Meta, Pets, Photography

The face of Jesus in my soup…

October 27, 2005January 16, 2016 Shelly

Or, apparently, in a tree. Or here. He really is everywhere!

Yahoo is now giving unlimited space for photo storage. I haven’t been actively using my storage space there, because it’s problematic for non-Yahoo users to access, and, they used to have a 20mb storage limit. Twenty megabytes? It is for to laugh!

When I started blogging, I used Hello (a Google-Picasa tie-in), then Flickr. Now, I use a combination of Flickr, my own web space, and Blogger’s photo storage. I’d totally forgotten about my Yahoo space until I got a courtesy reminder from them, telling me that if I did not access my photos at least once every six months, they would delete them. I took a quick look, just to make sure there wasn’t anything important stored there (nope), and saw this photo. The quality is crappy, and I have no idea when it was taken–at least a couple of years ago, I think–but it’s a typical “grazing cow dog” photo, so I thought I’d post it here. Harriet does like her fresh greens!

In other animal news, Rory has yet another UTI. There was a tiny amount of blood in his urine this morning, so I made an appointment to have him seen first thing tomorrow. I know he can’t be comfortable, and he really ought to be seen today, but I can’t face taking another animal back to the old vet. I managed to find another vet who is taking new clients (not as easy as one might think!), but they can’t see him until tomorrow morning.

On the bright side, I got more information and assistance, just from one phone call, than I ever got from the old vet’s office. I’m optimistic, both about the quality of care and the possibility that we may be able to finally get Rory’s crystal problem under control. Another plus is that they don’t usually keep animals overnight. They’re not staffed at night (most regular vets are not), and they feel that animals will be better off at home, where they have supervision and will be more comfortable. I tend to agree.

Today’s cool website contains a collection of black and white photographs, taken from long lost film found in old cameras.

And now, let’s have some fun with searching. The following are search strings used to arrive at either my website or blog:

tacky religious art
christian sationery
dog with a blue tongue
marble catholic sculptures
sleeping in curlers
scintillating scotoma (this one pops up about once or twice a month)
puggles (almost a daily occurrence)
unbleached waxed bag
silly shelly blog (well, duh!)
cigarette burns on children (another that pops up once or twice a month)
paris hilton porn
acupuncture mannequin

Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

Autumn Musings

October 6, 2005November 15, 2015 Shelly

It’s been nice to be back on my own schedule this week, though reacclimating myself to waking up at 4am has been unpleasant. I’m also having to get used to having Wednesdays off instead of Fridays. It means giving up my three-day weekends, which isn’t ideal, but I can rearrange it if I end up hating it. Flex-time is a godsend.

I spent this morning doing a whole lot of nothing, and it felt wonderful. I did manage to make a crockpot full of green beans and potatoes. I’ve been craving them for days. They turned out beautifully. I don’t use ham or anything meaty in them, but a lots of garlic and onion, and few drops of liquid smoke, some tamari, and some liquid aminos makes a nice, rich broth.

The new car is just as delightful as I thought it would be. It handles beautifully. I’ve never been very interested in cars, but I’m finding that there are zillions of little things the new car has that make me very, very happy (like the CD player restarting at the same place in the song, instead at the beginning of the CD, or headlights that go on and off automagically). But, the biggest thing I’ve noticed is that I don’t hold my breath every time I stop at a light. I hadn’t realized just how habitually on edge I’d gotten, because the MPoD had been dying whenever I came to a stop. I also don’t have half my mind on searching for new noises and problems. I almost enjoy driving, now.

I can’t quite wrap my mind around the fact that I’m now one of those eeevil SUV owners. But! It’s not a huge-assed SUV, it’s more of a smidgeon SUV-ette. It’s nowhere near as big as some of the monsters on the road. If it were, I wouldn’t be comfortable driving it. It is lots bigger than the MPoD, though. The little gravel patch that I park on, which was more than wide enough for the MPoD, isn’t quite wide enough for the new car. Hopefully, Ralph will dump some more gravel in my parking area the next time he re-gravels the driveway.

And now for gratuitous cute animal photos.

Harriet and I were lounging on the couch, watching teevee. I was trying to get a picture of her with her eyes closed, but every time she heard the camera focusing, she opened them. Still, it’s a pretty cute picture. I love the way she curls up her feet. Her back end is raised up because her far hind leg is tucked underneath her. She sleeps in the strangest positions.

Pandora, Queen of Bones. Or so she’d like everyone to believe. She occasionally curls up on the dog’s mat, with the her bones. They aren’t meaty or yummy, and even if they were, Pan hasn’t got any teeth to chew them with, so I don’t know what the attraction is. (Please ignore the layer of dust on the stereo cabinet. I certainly do! I figure that if I don’t pay attention to it, it might go away. Or, at least, it won’t bother me.)

As I was leaving home one morning last week, there was a beautiful layer of fog between the far stand of trees and the southeastern ridge. A week later, at about the same time of day, the sun was out and sparkling dazzingly on the fallow field behind my house. Despite the warm temperatures (highs in the mid-80s), you can tell that autumn is here. The back roads have brown leaves scuttling across them, which crunch satisfyingly when you drive over them. The walnut trees started losing their leaves weeks ago (I suspect the summer’s drought is to blame) and the leaves on the sassafras trees are turning scarlet.

You can really tell, in the bottom two photos, that the leaves are turning color. The first was taken on September 15, the second, on October 5. The closer, framing trees have dropped a lot of their leaves, the far, center tree has turned brown, and the mustard is no longer in flower.

It’s supposed to cool off quite a bit on Thursday. I’m a little torn. On the one hand, I love the cooler weather and turning leaves of fall, but I’m also not ready for truly cold weather to set in. Not that I don’t enjoy cold weather–I do!–but that I don’t want to have to invest in propane just yet. I don’t even want to think what a tankful will cost. I’m still planning on moving, but now I’m weighing the pros and cons of waiting a bit. On the bright side, I now have a car that will fit most everything I own!

It’s crankypantsing time!

1. Blogger. For the past few days, it’s been really unreliable, and seems to have just crashed again. This is the third time I’ve tried to upload this post, and the third time I’ve gotten a “Cannot find server” message. It looks like I’ll have to save this as a text file and upload it before work on Thursday. But hey, it’s free, right?

2. Models who have their own TeeVee shows. Has anyone seen the Tyra Banks show? I’ve watched a couple of episodes (I’m masochistic, that way), and was gobsmacked. She had on a couple who had requested a “free pass,” so that they could go out and see other people for 24 hours. WTF?! First, why do they need Tyra’s permission to see other people? Second, why on earth do people think that’s a good idea? The rationale seems to be that testing themselves with other people will show them whether or not their relationship is strong enough to take to the next level (presumably, marriage). I’m sorry, but if you’re even considering such a dumassed thing, then it seems pretty obvious to me that the relationship is in trouble.

3. My dryer, which died last week. I’m hesitant to replace it, because it may soon be redundant. Many of the houses and apartments I’ve looked at have washers, dryers, and dishwashers provided. But, air drying doesn’t remove lint and cat/dog hair. In the interim, I guess I could go to the laundromat, but that’s a time consuming pain in the ass.

4. My television antenna, which decided to stop working a couple of months ago. So now I can now only get two channels instead of three and a half. Hrmph! I can get FOX and PBS just fine, with the addition of a UHF booster, but I can’t get CBS and NBC, which means I’m missing Survivor and The Amazing Race. (This also explains why I was watching the Tyra Banks show.) I think I’ll put this in the pro Moving ASAP column.

Funnily enough, the antenna stopped working the same day Elliott died. I’d been out mowing and weed whacking earlier that day, so at first, I assumed I’d accidentally cut the antenna line. I don’t know what’s wrong with it–I’m scared to death of heights, so I’m not about to climb up there to investigate. Ralph said he’d come take a look at it, but I’m not holding my breath.

5. The phrase “scan in.” There is no in, out, up, or down–it’s just scanning. Period. Also, I can’t stand it when people add an extraneous “the” in front of words that do not need it.

6. E-mail forwards. You may think it’s the funniest damned thing since the invention of humor, but please, for the love of all that’s good in this world, don’t send it to me. I love Teh Funni, but I’m afraid that e-mail forwards do not make the cut. Also, do not cross-post it to all your mail lists. It’s sure to be off-topic and sharing it with everyone will not make you popular. Worse, if the recipients have multiple lists in common with you, they will receive it multiple times, thus multiplying your unpopularity. yOu hAv3 b33n wArn3d.

Crankypantsing, Pets

Three Things

August 26, 2005October 4, 2015 Shelly

First, I noticed yesterday that Roz Stendahl has some new journals posted to her website. I spent some time yesterday looking through them, and recommend that y’all do so, too. They’re truly wonderful.

Second, Rory is back from the vet. Two nights of hospitalization, catheterization, meds, etc. cost US$322. Two techs brought him out in his carrier, soaked in urine, with a kennel lead wrapped around him. Apparently they couldn’t get it off him, which is understandable. He’s semi-feral and freaked out by strangers. Still, they’re professionals and I don’t think it’s too much to ask for them to be able to handle one cat, no matter how badly he’s behaving. More disturbing is that I was unable to actually talk to the vet. I was given my cat and his meds and sent home. That’s the final straw. As soon as he’s through with this course of antibiotics, I’m taking him on well visits to try on a couple of other vets. There have got to be better diagnosticians out there or, at least, a vet who will actually communicate with owners.

Third, I really (really!) hate it when people tell me how to think, feel, or behave. Aside from inciting an initial “you’re not the boss of me” reaction (and, seriously, they aren’t and it’s damned silly for them to delude themselves into thinking they are), it’s spectacularly rude. It’s no way to treat a child, adult, or barnyard animal. It’s controlling, condescending, placating, dehumanizing, and just plain offensive. The subtext is that you’re overreacting and that your response has no merit. In essence, you do not matter. You are nothing. You have no right to have feelings. You are denied a voice.

Inherently, I believe it is also an act of violence. Your voice is the only thing in this world that is entirely your own. When someone takes that away from you, you cease to exist. People fight wars over this sort of thing, so why is it so difficult for some folks to understand that it matters?

Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

They Come in Threes

August 24, 2005November 15, 2015 Shelly

Some old wife once said that bad things happen in threes. I certainly hope she’s correct, because I’m about fed up. First, Elliott, then, the MoonPie of Delight, now Rory. Thankfully, Rory’s situation isn’t immediately life-threatening.

Yesterday morning, he seemed to be suffering from another blockage. Over the past few years, he’s had recurring problems with struvite crystals, so I watch him carefully. This time, he came to me and squatted next to my foot. “See, I’m trying to pee!” Bless his little heart. So off to the vet he went. They’re keeping him for catheterization and observation for two nights, which is okay, but I’m a little perturbed at their lack of communication skills.

I called them yesterday afternoon. The vet had already gone for the day, and the office person couldn’t find any information for me. Keeping and consulting patient charts should be pretty standard, right? Then, this morning, I ran into the same problem. All I could get out of the technician was that Rory had been catheterized. She didn’t know when I could pick him up, but took my number and said she’d catch the doctor after his next patient and call me back. Two hours later–tired of waiting–I called back again, and she still didn’t have info for me. This time, at least, she went to find the doctor. They want to keep him another night.

Okaythen.

Why on earth couldn’t that information have been in his chart, so that when I called yesterday, I could be told what was going on?

I think it’s time to find a new (um, better) vet. First, I’m not comfortable with their diagnostic skills. They’re semi-emergency vets (strictly walk-in with good evening hours), which is nice, but their prices are ungodly and, at this point, I’m not inclined to trust them with unknown quantities. As soon as Rory is feeling better, I’m going to try to get him into another vet for a well visit. Or, maybe I’ll use Harriet as my guinea pig. I really hate to do that to her, though, because she’s so damned tweaky about strangers. She actually likes her current vets, which is why I’ve stuck with them, despite the fact that I always feel like I’ve only got about 1/4 of their attention when I’m dealing with them.

Oh, and to make things even more exciting, Rory absolutely and completely refuses to eat Hills C/D (crystal diet). He’s not otherwise a picky eater, but he won’t touch even canned C/D. If there’s so much as a molecule of it mixed into another food, he won’t touch it. As far as he’s concerned, it’s poison. At one point, he lost half of his body weight and started to go into organ failure because he wouldn’t eat it. So, it’s not like he’s just being bratty and waiting him out is an option. I finally had to water down the canned and force feed it to him, which is reasonable in the short term but is notnotnot a long-term solution.

Pets, Photography

As Promised Yesterday…

May 26, 2005September 29, 2015 Shelly

Pandora (AKA Mistress Eeevil Kitty)

Pandora is in charge of making sure that my work table is kept clear and that all stray socks, wash cloths, and scraps of paper are deposited by the front door. She’s 16 this month and is still going strong. Every morning, I wake up to her running crazed laps up and down the hallway.

Pandora is the only cat I’ve known who is absolutely fearless. While I was moving the furniture around last weekend, the dogs both hid. Not Pandora! She was constantly underfoot, checking out what I was doing and looking to see if I’d unearthed anything Interesting. I’ve moved around a lot since I got her and have never seen her stressed about being in a new place. As soon as her carrier is opened, she’s out and exploring her new queendom. Every trip to the vet is a new adventure–she schmoozes with everyone and noses around, getting into everything she possibly can.

The Studio

That’s Elliott in the last picture. He’s a mamma’s boy. Whenever I’m working, he sleeps under my feet. When I’m not working, he sleeps under my computer desk. The desk looks like a hunk of junk, but it’s an antique primitive piece. I should take better care of it than I do, but I don’t have the space to store furniture I’m not using. Plus, it’s the perfect size and height for what I need.

And, because we haven’t had a landscape photo in awhile…

Art, Meta

About Cat-sidh

January 10, 2005December 11, 2018 Shelly

Pandora, the fairy cat, came to me in the Spring of 1990 as a tiny, black kitten–the runt of the litter. She was unable to meow, but soon learned to compensate with an entire vocabulary of trilling chirps. From the first day, she was fearless and gregarious. She never met a stranger and never knew a bad mood. Every new experience she met with curiosity, good grace, and wicked feline wit. She took numerous kittens under her paw, raising them, teaching them the joys of catness, and offering them life-long companionship. A benevolent dictator, Pandora accepted the challenge of keeping the dogs in proper order, ruling over them with a (mostly) velveted paw.

Pandora was a constant source of entertainment, friendship, and inspiration. It’s only fitting that her contribution to my life be recognized, so the name of this website is a tribute to her.