03 September, 2008
How I Spent My 15th Bay Area Anniversary
I spent it with friends doing some night shooting at the Sutro Baths. If you're unfamiliar with San Francisco history, the Sutro Baths is a fascinating place. It's interesting enough during the day but has a completely different character at night. And, as my friend Patrick pointed out, different still when you see long exposure night photographs of it. This particular shot was taken from the Cliff House. The rocks are lit by these enormous lights from the Cliff House and they are white because birds hang out there and, well, you know, do what birds do.
So. Fifteen years. I remember my first few hours in San Francisco so well. My friend and her daughter (who I also consider my friend, even if she is young enough to be my daughter) made the trip from Portland with me. We rolled into San Francisco around 11:00 p.m. and I managed to get myself lost in the Mission, trying to find my new flat.
"Pull the car over here and let's just look at the map." my friend urged.
My eyes darted around, taking in the landscape, my very tired brain processing this information so I could make a decision. I looked up at the street sign. "Julianna, I am not stopping this car on a street called SHOTwell!" Julianna sighed and I kept driving. I knew I was close. In fact, I was only a couple of blocks away, but I was turned around. After another 10 minutes or so, I found my street and my flat. I thought I had found a parking space, too, so I pulled over and we unloaded my Hyundai. We were nearly done when a woman pulled up and yelled at me for blocking her driveway. I apologized, said I was new in town and closed up my car to move it. She kept yelling at me the whole time. (For MONTHS after that, every time I walked my dogs by her car I tried to get Reggie to lift his leg on her tires but he wouldn't. Proving once again that, for a dog, he was a much better person than I.)
I did find a parking spot about a block away (I would soon learn that finding parking within a block of your home in San Francisco after 11:00 p.m. is a stroke of bloody good luck), locked up the car and took the last of my stuff to the flat.
When my friends and I went to the car to drive into downtown (yeah, I'd soon learn how foolhardy THAT was, too), my car had been broken into and I had a parking ticket. Luckily my car wasn't damaged and nothing was taken because there was nothing in it. And I learned about street cleaning days.
So in my first nine hours living in San Francisco I had been yelled at over a dubious driveway, been broken into, had my first parking ticket and my first meltdown trying to drive into downtown (not knowing my way around). By the time we got home that afternoon I was in tears wondering how I ever thought I could do this and I was *this close* to packing up the car and going right back to Portland. (I knew that most of the friends and family had figured I wouldn't last six months but I don't think any of them picked 24 hours for the pool.) My friends and my new roommate were so incredibly supportive, reassuring me it was just a rough first day and I'd be all right. But if I really wanted to go back to Portland, that would be okay, too.
I decided to stick it out a while longer. :-)
And I'm glad I did. Living in the Bay Area is not easy, especially if you don't have either 1) a high paying job, 2) several roommates or 3) a support system. There are days when trying to make a living here really kicks my ass and I wonder why I'm killing myself just trying to keep a roof over my head and gas in the car. Hardly a month goes by where I don't spend a day or two wondering if I'd be happier someplace else where the cost of living was a little more reasonable and the pace a little less hectic and the air and water a little cleaner.
But I can't quit this. Or this. And I can't think of a town with an eccentric quite as interesting as Frank Chu. I'd miss my adopted home town too much, too. And the weather here is as close to perfect as I've ever found and, most of all, I now have some really amazing friends here. Also, acquiring enough valium to make any move tolerable for me and the furkids would add several hundred dollars to the cost of the journey.
So I think I'll stick it out a while longer. :-)
(edited to fix some glaring typos 'n' stuff)
Labels: friendship, furkids, grace, gratitude, San Francisco, Why it is
~~ victoria on 2:54 PM ~~ 0 comments
24 August, 2008
Simon Sunday: Daydreaming
Probably dreaming of goat cheese. He insisted that I give him a bite of blue cheese while I was making my salad, despite my reminding him that he doesn't really like blue cheese. So I gave him a bite of it and he promptly spit it out. When he realized I was not going to switch and put proper chevre on my salad, he went back and ate the blue cheese, staring at me as if this was the only morsel of food he has ever been offered in his life and, even though he didn't like it, he'd eat it anyway.
Which reminds me: I'd better get that last vanilla macaroon from my trip to Miette out of my camera bag before Felis Cookie Thiefus sniffs it..
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 7:58 PM ~~ 0 comments
10 August, 2008
Simon Sunday: Contemplative
Nothing new, really, to report on the Felis Sconeus Thiefus. He's pretty much stayed out of trouble lately and the food stealing has been minimized since I instituted my new Open Food Container Policy where I collect a fully-refundable $300 deposit from anyone who brings food into the apartment. It is refundable if/when the food is consumed or removed from the apartment and Simon has NOT consumed toxic quantities of it.
OK I'm joking about the deposit, mostly. I did give it some serious consideration, though. I am still considering hiring a nanny for him, however, because I think his Guardian Angels have gone on permanent disability due to the stress of trying to keep him out of trouble.
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 12:18 PM ~~ 0 comments
20 July, 2008
Simon Sunday: So Guess What Else Is Toxic For Cats
Raisins. Yes, I said raisins. Grapes, grape juice and wine are bad, too, but for this post we'll just focus on the raisins, shall we?
And how did I come by this pearl of knowledge, you ask? Because someone got into the (very tasty) raisin scones my good friend made and brought over for us HUMANS to enjoy. Wirehead and I had some with a cup of tea before we headed to the navy base for a shoot last weekend. When I returned home, I discovered a trail of scone crumbs and there were teeth scrapes on the two remaining scones in the container. As I was vacuuming up the crumbs from the floor, I wondered about the raisins. How many might he have eaten? Did it matter? They're just raisins. They can't be bad for cats. Can they? I exchanged a few worried text messages with wirehead, who told me how many he used in the entire recipe and I tried to calculate how many Simon may have eaten. I guessed he ate 10 raisins.
My first-aid and cat care books weren't really specific about the toxicity of raisins, so I turned to Google only to find that the internets are kind of all over the place on the issue. They were pretty consistent in declaring them highly toxic for dogs, but wavered on whether they were bad for cats (because, evidently, dogs love them some People Food, but cats are such finicky eaters they don't eat stuff like scones. **SNORT**). I tried to go to bed, since by this time it was well after midnight, but Simon was hyper and my "spidey sense" was still tingling. After a few minutes, I was scrolling through the contacts list on my iPhone until I came upon Bay Area Veterinary Specialists, the 24-hour emergency hospital we had been to just a few weeks ago. The receptionist spoke to the on-duty vet for a few minutes, then came back on the line and said as far as they knew raisins are more toxic for dogs than for cats but they gave me the phone number for the ASPCA Poison Control Line. At this point, I was so completely exhausted, and Simon hadn't vomited and certainly didn't look or act sick. I thought of just going back to bed. But I just couldn't do it, so I dialed the toll-free number.
I spoke with a "Dr. Smith" there and she asked the usual questions, "How many did he eat?" "How much does he weigh?" "Has he had any vomiting, etc.?" I told her he looked and acted normal and that I thought he ate about 10 raisins, total and he weighs around 11 or 12 pounds. The words I really wanted to hear at that moment were, "OK just keep an eye on him for the next day or two and take him to his vet if he shows any signs of sickness."
Instead, she told me I should either take him to a 24-hour vet, or attempt to induce vomiting myself by giving him 2 teaspoons of hydrogen peroxide. Thank goodness I still have a bottle of peroxide on hand. I frantically tore through the kitchen drawers trying to find a suitable measuring spoon and a medicine syringe to give him the peroxide. While I was doing that, Simon was helping himself to Billie's food, which I let him do because I had read in one of my books that it helps to induce vomiting if the pet eats a little something first. I finally found a measuring spoon and an old eyedropper from a herb tincture. I rinsed the eyedropper thoroughly and brought Simon into the bathroom with me. He did fight me a little, trying to get the peroxide down him a dropper full at a time, but bless his heart, he took pretty much all of it. The ASPCA vet said it might take up to 10 minutes: He was horking after two or three. I counted nine raisins. And I STILL want to know what my prize is for guessing how many raisins were in the jar!
I phoned the ASPCA back (they charge $60 for a consultation, but you get a case number and can call back on that number as often as necessary) and explained what had happened. They said I should keep an eye on him over the next 24-48 hours and that it wouldn't be a bad idea to take him to his regular vet. So, he had a couple of follow-up blood tests with his vet, to make sure his kidney values were stable (and to give him a little "fluid flab" to help flush out his system) and I'm happy (and very very relieved) to report that he is just fine.
So, here's a list of things that Simon has gotten into and generally how freaked out you should be if your dog or cat gets into the same thing. I have also included the ASPCA Poison Control number and a link to their web page. I hope you never have to refer to them, but judging by the amount of traffic this blog gets from people wondering if gerbera daisies are toxic to their cats, it may prove useful.
Labels: cats, furkids, gah, Simon, Simon Sunday, Site Stat Gazing
~~ victoria on 11:03 PM ~~ 0 comments
06 July, 2008
Simon Sunday: Feed Me Now, Pls.
I realize I haven't done a Simon Sunday post in a while. Not to worry, he is just fine and back to 100% (well, minus that one toenail he ripped off trying to jump from my head to the top of the heater)!
Despite the fact that in this photo he looks like a perfect angel (complete with a halo glowing over his head!), he has added a new bit of obnoxiousness to his palette. Now, usually starting around 5:00 a.m., he'll sigh very loudly while melodramatically flopping himself down next to me in bed, with his fuzzy arse strategically placed near my head. He then slaps my face with his tail, and, when I protest, will turn and look at me like, "Oh, is that thing hitting you? Soooooooo sorry! I just can NOT control it!" I should take and post a video of it, but that would mean subjecting the world to me just waking up and, well, they'd probably NIPSA my Flickr account if I did that.
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 4:27 PM ~~ 0 comments
08 June, 2008
Simon Sunday: My New Charm, Let Me Show You It
I realize I haven't done a Simon Sunday for a while. Simon is fine and back to his old self again (just waiting for the hair to grow back on his "arm" where it was shaved off). I just haven't really been up for posting things, lately.
I'll try to get posting back on track, but make no promises.
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 12:12 PM ~~ 0 comments
18 May, 2008
Simon Sunday: Getting Back to Normal
Simon has been home for a week, after his Bogus Journey to the emergency veterinary hospital last weekend. We finished the Clavamox and Baytril prescriptions for his urinary tract infection last night, which was good because he had sort of figured out the pill pockets.
Oh yes, the pill pockets. Last Sunday I didn't have much trouble pilling Simon: the Clavamox are small and the Baytril followed immediately after when Simon was too confused to put up a fight. Monday was a completely different story. I got the Clavamox down him easily but he wanted nothing at all to do with the Baytril. I spent close to thirty minutes trying to get that stupid Baytril down him! To anyone observing, it must surely have looked like Wile E. Coyote v. the Roadrunner: No matter what clever scheme I tried (Shoving it in. Shoving it in again. Covering it in goat cheese. Covering it in Petromalt. Shoving it in again. Covering it in more Petromalt and smearing the whole thing on his face.), he outwitted me. By the time I got the last remnants of that damn pill into his mouth, it felt like I had played my guitar all night, but instead of steel strings, it had been strung with barbed wire. So, on the recommendation of the vet's office, I stopped at Petco after work on Tuesday and bought chicken flavored pill pockets.
The pill pockets worked really well, but still required preparation to keep up with Simon. I started off giving him one sans pill, then stuffed a Clavamox in one and gave it to him, which he ate quickly. The Baytril one, he tried to chew at, so I quickly grabbed one of his crunchy cat treats and offered it to him so he'd just swallow the Baytril and eat the new treat. That system has been working out fairly well, though the last couple of days Simon started trying to dissect the pocket and refusing the extra treat until he had chewed at the pill pocket some more. But, hey, no problem because we're done with meds, right?
Yeah, not so much.
For reasons known only to him, Simon thought it would be a really neat idea to use my head as a springboard to try to leap on top of the heater. It didn't work out too well for him and he ended up tearing one of his toenails and if you've ever accidentally trimmed too far on your cat's (or dog's) nails, those suckers bleed like a son of a gun! Naturally, I sprung straight into Mom Mode and put his foot under the faucet to try to clean the wound and stop the bleeding. He was having none of it and tried to run away several times. He yelped and growled and bit on me (clearly not wanting to hurt me, just trying to get me to stop what I was doing) when I put the wash cloth over his foot. He yelped and bit some more when I tried to hold cotton balls on the wound to staunch the bleeding. I finally got it stopped and just let him lay on my bed by himself while I cleaned up the kitchen and got ready for bed. He groomed the foot for a while but he hasn't been favoring the foot, so it seems all is as well as can be.
The discharge instructions from the emergency vet said I had to get Simon in for a follow-up urine test within 48 hours after discontinuing his meds, so I made an appointment for this afternoon. I felt horrible when it was time to put him in the carrier and he actually piddled a little bit (not surprising since, for one, he did NOT want to go back to the vet and for two, I had made him "hold it" all day so the vet would be able to grab a sample). He yowled all the way to our regular vet's office (thankfully, the emergency vet said we could go to his regular vet for the follow up, which is a much shorter car trip). The vet who saw him said that the notes that had been faxed over from the hospital said that he wasn't to be seen for five days after discontinuing the meds. We talked about what to do and I made it very clear that I did not want to put Simon through another trip to the vet. She ordered a regular test (not the culture), so, unless they see something off in that, we should be done with vet trips for a while.
The vet and I both nearly forgot about looking at Simon's foot, so she took him back to the exam room. She showed me how the nail had torn away from the toe a bit and that he'd probably eventually pull the nail off himself. Alternatively she could sedate him and take it herself, but neither of us wanted to put him through that today. So, he's back on Clavamox for the next five days in an effort to head off any infection.
I'd better go check the supply of pill pockets.
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 7:54 PM ~~ 0 comments
11 May, 2008
Simon Sunday: Grace
I love to have fresh flowers in the house and every Sunday, when I make my weekly grocery shopping trip to Trader Joe's, I pick up one of their mixed bouquets. Now, because Simon likes to sample, well, everything, I make sure that the flowers are kept in a place he cannot access and I keep an eye out for wilting flowers so I can slip off the petals before they fall off. Occasionally, a lily petal will fall onto the floor, but Simon has never bothered with them.
Until Thursday.
I came home from work and noticed some orange lily petals on the floor and picked them up. I didn't think too much about it. I fed Simon and Billie their supper while I got ready to go to the SFlickr meet up. When I got home and was getting ready to crawl into bed around 10:30 p.m., I noticed that Simon had horked up part of his supper. As I picked it up and threw it in the garbage, I noticed the standard hair and a couple of bits of orange somethingorother in it. As I was cleaning off the bed spread and getting it ready to put in the laundry, it dawned on me: Those orange bits must be lily petals.
After consulting the first aid manual, I phoned Bay Area Veterinary Specialists, the emergency clinic in San Leandro, and spoke to them briefly. Part of me really wanted to think that, like the previous incidents with chocolate, Simon would just get away with nothing more than a dickey tummy. After all, he was still acting like his whacko self and was still eating. But something inside me compelled me to get dressed and take him in. So, at 11:00 p.m. we walked through the door to the emergency room at BAVS. A vet tech took him in the back while I sorted out the details at the reception desk. After a while, the veterinarian on duty spoke to me and told me that they needed to give Simon activated charcoal (which is horrible-tasting and must be force-fed) to soak up the toxins and also put him on IV fluids to flush his system. Hopefully, this all would head off any kidney damage (or failure) that can be caused by ingesting lillies. She let me go into the back to say good-night to Simon. My poor baby was absolutely terrified and as soon as I leaned over him on the table, he crawled into my neck, wanting his Mom to protect him. The vet tech had his blanket spread out on the table and said Simon was being a very good kitty and seemed to be somewhat comfortable with him, given the circumstances. At this point, I was crying, my tears soaking Simon's fuzzy little head. "I'm so sorry, baby," I kept saying.
The doctor gently told me that I needed to go to the front desk to sort out the estimate so that they can begin treating Simon, so I kissed him good night. The vet tech, instead of holding Simon on the table, pulled him gently into his lap and soothed him, which made me feel a tiny bit better about leaving him.
The estimate has a low end and a high end and I had to pay the low end as a deposit before they would begin treating him. Both estimates were in the 4-digit range. I said a quick prayer of thanks that 1) the bank had upped my credit limit a couple of weeks ago and 2) that, despite the huge hole it would blow in my savings account, I could still cover the high end of the estimate. Driving home, I nearly had to pull off of the freeway two or three times because I felt so nauseated. When I got home I pulled the rest of the bedding off of the mattress and dragged my down comforter over. I lay awake until the alarm went off at 5:40 a.m. I phoned the clinic around 7:00 and they said he was doing well and that I could call back around 10:30. I asked if I could visit him and they told me to come by any time. As you can imagine, I was an utter wreck at work. I tried hard to concentrate on TASKS, anything to get my mind off of my poor, terrified kitten who was in this situation because of my stupid need to have stupid fresh flowers all the stupid time. I got some critical tasks done and managed to get my trip to Los Angeles rescheduled from Monday to Thursday and then I called the clinic before leaving for the ferry.
I spoke to one of the vet techs (Rita, I think...I wish I had gotten *all* of their names, they all are so wonderful). They were going to send Simon's blood work out for another look-see because the doctor had seen something "a little off" in it. Also, they discovered a rather significant bacterial infection in his bladder, so they put him on antibiotics for that. That last bit of news knocked me for six: Simon had shown no indication, whatsoever, that he had any kind of urinary tract infection. Rita told me to visit Simon any time. So I headed for the 12:15 boat back to Alameda. I dug out Simon's favourite catnip bear, which he had torn a hole in and it was hemorrhaging catnip, and did a hasty repair job so I could bring it with me. 
I spent about an hour and a half with Simon Friday afternoon. At one point, he had crawled behind me on the bench and then suddenly reached over and yanked on his catheter, spraying a bit of blood on the wall and dripping some on me as I carried him into the treatment area to tell them what happened. When the techs tried to look at the catheter, Simon got really frightened and peed on me. I cleaned myself off while they replaced the catheter and wrapped the works in the orange smiley face bandage you see in the photo. They brought him back into the room with me for a little while longer and I settled him into his favourite polar fleece jacket where he finally slept comfortably (that's the photo at the top of the post). It was time for him to go back on his fluids, so I left. I came back later in the evening to say good-night and to bring a bag of his food to see if he would eat (he wasn't eating for the vet, which wasn't surprising considering how frightened he was). I didn't have any luck getting him to eat, but he did at least sniff at the kibble I brought, which was encouraging. The tech said he was doing really well and answered my question about the blood work (the vet had noted a low platelet count and that's why it was sent out for another look). Simon didn't really look or act like a sick cat. Scared, but not sick. However, with kidney problems, it can take a while for the symptoms to manifest, so they wanted to keep him hospitalized. Again, I kissed him good-night and headed home to watch Battlestar Galactica, a diversion I so desperately needed along with having my friend Stephanie here.
Saturday, I went straight from my chiropractor appointment to the clinic. When I phoned earlier, they said his blood work came back "unremarkable", which I took as good news, and that he was keeping hidden in his bed (the tech Friday had mentioned that he had been too frightened to come out of his bed to use the litter pan and was peeing in the bed). When they gave him to me, I noticed that his stomach and hindquarters were, uh, damp. I just wanted to cry: my poor little boo was so scared he was peeing himself! This is the same cat who is the litter box champion! He had never, ever, in his life eliminated anywhere BUT the litter box. I was just sick that he was so distressed that he wouldn't leave his bed to pee. I scooped him up in the towels they brought in and tried to clean him off a little. He took over and I just let him sit on the floor and groom for a bit. Then I pulled out the baggie with some of his kibble in it to see if I could get him to eat. He actually ate several bites before some loud children in the neighbouring exam room put him off. I spent a couple of hours with him and he got progressively more relaxed, and even started being the Cheeky Monkey, jumping up on the sink counter, even after I told him he was not allowed up there!
When the vet came in to speak to me, I leaned pretty heavily on her to let him come home. However, she said that, while his blood work was really looking good and he seemed to be doing very well, they really needed to keep him one more night and do one or two more blood tests to make sure his kidney values were stable and to keep flushing his system with fluids. I snuggled with him for a few more minutes before handing him to the tech and promising to come by to say good night.
I returned about 8:00 p.m. but had to wait a while before the visiting room was available, so I didn't see Simon until 8:30. This time the lines were attached to Simon's catheter which was kind of a shock for me to see and it drove Simon nuts to be dragging them around whenever he tried to walk anywhere. But we dealt with it and I just let him do his thing. He groomed for a while, then I put his dish of kibble down and he went at it, which made me so unbelievably happy!
He groomed for a few minutes before deciding that he really wanted me to sit on the floor with the polar fleece jacket so he could climb inside and rest. While we were down there, the vet on duty, Dr. Jones, I think, came in. While I was impressed with everyone I met at the clinic, this vet totally won me over. He not only answered all of my questions (and was very happy to see that I got Simon to eat), but, rather than towering over us while we talked, he crouched, then sat, on that cold, tile floor next to us. When he got up to leave, he said, "Stay as long as you like. He's obviously way happier where he is right now!" About an hour later, the vet tech came in and said it was time for Simon's antibiotic treatment and he should go back on his fluids. I kissed his head and told him we just needed to tough it out for a few more hours and then he'd come home.
On the way to the car, the migraine that had begun percolating hit me with full force. By the time I got home I was feeling very ill and, in desperation, took one of the Vicodin that I got when my back went out last October. I had also gotten a call from my friend who was in the area and figured I could use a hug. So he came over and sat with me and we talked about photography and cats and work while I waited (and waited) for the Vicodin to at least take the edge off of my raging headache. I fueled my friend up with tea for his drive back to the South Bay and, by the time we said good-night, my head was finally clearing up. The Vicodin also helped me to sleep for the first time in a couple of days. In fact, I was still really groggy this morning when I forced myself to roll out of bed so I could call the clinic at 8:40 a.m. to see when I could come get Simon.
"He's ready to go!" said Simone, at the clinic. I tried very hard to not SQUEE with delight, in her ear.
I hurriedly showered and dressed and stopped to get an Americano at the Starbucks inside Safeway and flew down I-880. I now know the way to BAVS like I know how to get to my own apartment! I settled the final bill and waited while they tried to find his carrier and blanket. It turns out the blanket ended up in their laundry, so they sent him home with a sheepskin and promised to call when they found his blanket (which they did, this afternoon).
As soon as Simon came home, I got him to eat some more food and then he wandered over to Billie's dish and made a half-hearted attempt to steal some of her food. But his appetite isn't what it was before his ordeal. Since he does eat (and hasn't horked any of it back up, so far), I'm not too concerned that he no longer inhales food. If his appetite drops off significantly, then I'll worry.
We spent a long Sunday afternoon with Simon napping on my lap while I watched a movie and snoozed. At one point Simon and I got a card and some toy mice from another one of our amazingly wonderful friends. I got him to eat some more supper and discovered he has a new hiding place--inside the box springs of my bed! He's slowly settling back into his home and feeling secure again. I have to give him antibiotics twice a day for a while and he's got some shaved spots on his legs where the catheter was and where they took blood and I'm trying to get him to not worry them so much that I have to bandage them up again. I pray that the only lingering effect of this ordeal is the one on my bank account and that Simon gets back to his regular crazy mouse self fairly soon. I'm still bewildered about the UTI and how I had no clue about it (I always know when Billie gets one because she is a major Drama Queen about it). And as awful as it was that he ate highly toxic flowers, I wonder if, somehow, that action might have saved his life?
It's a lot to think about: Instead I think I'll go snuggle up with Simon and just be so, so grateful that he and Billie are safe at home with me, this Mother's Day.
Labels: Billie, cats, furkids, grace, gratitude, sick, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 11:04 PM ~~ 1 comments
04 May, 2008
Simon Sunday: Seven!
Simon turns seven years old tomorrow and as usual, he's been spoiled silly, though all of the presents he's gotten are ones that Billie can (and does) enjoy as well. He got a new cardboard scratch box (with catnip!) and an "entertainment center" (though most of you out there would refer to it as an aquarium).
I went back and forth on what fish I'd include in the aquarium, but I decided a while ago I'd use live plants instead of plastic ones this time (bought a couple of plants at Petco and my chiropractor gave me a bunch out of the aquarium in her office). As for the fish, I was thinking of having cichlids, but decided to go with guppies and in a week or so I'll add an algae-eating fish. I've never had guppies so I'll have to see if I can keep the population in check. So far, everyone is happy and the guppies have settled into their new environment.
Billie is content to watch the fish swim through the plants, occasionally patting at the glass. Simon, however, wants to take a more "paws-on" approach:
Simon is actually more interested in sampling the fish FOOD, rather than the fish themselves. As glad as I am that he doesn't want to eat his pet fish, it does add several degrees of difficulty to feeding time.
The last thing we did to celebrate Simon's birthday was to donate a bunch of cat food to the Alameda Animal Shelter. When I was in there last week to pay for Billie's license, they told me about all of the adult cats that have been dropped off in the night drop box lately. The officer nearly had me sobbing before I left and there was no way I could go back to see the cats because I already wish I could adopt every last homeless animal there is. What I could do, however, is buy an extra bag and some cans of food. So Simon and Billie and I want to ask our friends to donate a few dollars or an extra bag or can or two of food to your local shelter or rescue organization. If you're a few bob short, you can give your time and volunteer to socialize the animals and take the dogs for walks.
Finally, if you have room in your heart (and in your home), consider adopting an adult cat (or dog). There are a lot of wonderful critters out there waiting for a loving family of their own.
Labels: Billie, cats, furkids, gratitude, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 12:40 PM ~~ 0 comments
27 April, 2008
Simon Sunday: Girl Troubles
Poor Simon! One of our neighbour kitties, Simone, has gotten into the habit of waiting in the front courtyard for me to come home from work. She'll meet me half way along the walk and escort me to my door where we visit for a few minutes, usually with Simon and Billie poking their head out to say hi. I've been very pleasantly surprised that there hasn't been any hissing or growling from my rather territorial furkids (Simon, in particular, is given to hissing at interlopers).
So Friday afternoon Simone followed me home (with "Baby", a very shy stray-ish kitty who has sort of adopted Simone's family, tagging behind her). So I kept the door open while I put out a fresh dish of water for the outdoor cats and visited with Simone and Baby. I was on my hands and knees as I set out the water and Simon came over and poked his head out from under my chin (think of a kitten with his momma cat). Simon and Simone looked at each other for several seconds and then Simon poked his head out a little farther. Simone instantly whapped him on his nose and hissed at him. He froze for a moment with a "WTF???" look on his face before he ran off toward the bedroom while I nearly ended myself laughing and crying "Oh, poor Simon!".
Thankfully, a dish full of kibble soothed his broken heart. As long as he has his momma and plenty of kibble (and yogurt and goat cheese and tons of other treats) and his toy box, he doesn't need a girl kitteh.
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 12:14 PM ~~ 0 comments
20 April, 2008
Simon Sunday: A Rare Moment of Detente
As long as Billie forgets that she hates Simon's guts, they can find a way to get a long for a while. Once in a great while, Simon will attack Billie, unprovoked, but usually if he does it's because he's walked into the room and she starts hissing and growling at him.
In other new developments, it seems that, after nearly seven years, Simon has pretty much gotten over his shyness around one of my friends. Of course it helps that she brings a huge bowl of popcorn when she comes over to watch Battlestar Galactica and that, popcorn being the messy snack that it is, he manages to get quite a few bites of it. He's gone from hiding under the bed in terror to practically snuggling at her feet! He's also gotten brave enough to plot raids on the popcorn bowl, when he thinks we're not paying attention.
On the one hand, I'm glad he's finally getting past his shyness because he really is so wonderful that it's a shame people don't get to see how funny and sweet and full of mischief he is. On the other hand, I always counted on that shyness when I had company so that I could have food out and not worry about him helping himself.
We take the good with the not-as-good, I suppose.
Speaking of which, I was just in the bathroom, scrubbing out and rinsing one of the litter boxes. As I finished, I turned around to see that Simon had delivered one of his toys to the doorway of the bathroom. So that I'd be sure to take a moment for play after working so hard for him and his sister. Such a sweetheart!
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 2:22 PM ~~ 0 comments
13 April, 2008
Why Your Dog--And Cat--Should NEVER Be Allowed Access To Chocolate
This is absolutely heartbreaking! It sounds like the pup is improving and, fates willing, she'll pull through.
With Simon, I have to be hyper-vigilant about keeping any chocolate products out of his reach. He's gotten into chocolate a few times, but has, thankfully, never suffered much more than a dickey tummy. While he hasn't burned through many of his nine lives, he has caused me to DIE from panic and worry several times.
Anyway, please, keep the chocolate far out of the reach of your furkids.
Update 4/14/08. Holly has made an amazing recovery and will get to go home, hopefully Tuesday! It's a miracle, insofar as a miracle can happen with a dedicated veterinary team and lots and lots of Internet Love. Go Holly, Go!
Labels: furkids, grace, Why it is
~~ victoria on 9:41 PM ~~ 0 comments
Simon Sunday: Pet Goldfishies!
Awww, he loved his goldfishies!
Originally uploaded by Planet Vicster
This is an old video of Simon, when he had his first pets: Two goldfish, both of whom were named Fishie, IIRC.
He really loved his fish. As you can see in this video, they swam over to him and interacted with him (his next sets of fish, all betta, did that, too). He was comforted by the hum of the filter motor and he loved to warm his bum by sitting on top of the tank.
His birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks and I'm seriously considering a new aquarium and some more fish. Because, to be honest, I liked having them around as much as he did!
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 7:07 PM ~~ 0 comments
30 March, 2008
Simon Sunday: Check-up Time!
I got, not one, but TWO notifications from the veterinarians' office recently. It seems Simon was due for his annual check-up and Billie was due for her rabies vaccination. For some reason, when I was on the phone with the V-E-T's office, I thought it might be more efficient to bring them in at the same time. After I hung up the phone, I realized that that idea wasn't so much about efficiency as it is proof positive that I'm fucking insane.
The last time I packed two kitties off to the vet's office was when Simon and Chloe were kittens and I could put them both in the same carrier. If I were to try to put Simon and Billie in the same carrier, there would be blood spilled, most likely MINE. I got them into their carriers, eventually (Simon can really put up a good fight) and out the door. Once outside, where the neighbours could hear them, they both started complaining bitterly and LOUDLY about what was happening to them. But all in all, they were both pretty well behaved.
Billie has put back on some weight, so she's back into the six pound range. That was very good news because I was rather alarmed when she dropped below six pounds. Simon is still twice her size at a bit over twelve pounds. He did the kitten thing of trying to hide himself in my neck and let out his high-pitched mews when he was on the scale.
So, if nothing else, at least Billie now knows Simon's Dirty Secret: For all his bullying and blustering at her at home, he is a great big baby. Not that that made her any happier:
For all the trauma they claim to have suffered today, I think my bank account took the worst of it. But Billie and Simon are both healthy and that's the most important thing.
Labels: Billie, cats, furkids, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 4:52 PM ~~ 0 comments
23 March, 2008
Simon Sunday: Sleepy, But Keeping an Eye On Me
Simon and I seem to have a bit of a disagreement as to how I should be spending my 4-day weekend. I thought I'd spend it relaxing around the apartment and getting some work done on the computer. Simon thought I was here to do his bidding and to provide Something Big And Warm for him to snuggle with whenever he designated it Official Napping Hour.
Sometimes I get so fed up that I swear that the next time I take time off I'm going to hire a kitty sitter and go Somewhere Else for a few days of peace and quiet. But I know that I'd miss him and Billie terribly and would probably cut my vacation short so I could hear Billie chatter excitedly at me in the morning and have Simon wake me up with his kitty-paw neck massages and his nose kisses.
Labels: Billie, cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 3:31 PM ~~ 0 comments
16 March, 2008
Simon Sunday: Trying Out Photobooth
After much internal debate (possibly the subject for another post), I finally made a trip to the Apple Store yesterday and came home with a new iMac. Setting it up and migrating information from the old Mac to the new one was too much for Simon's curiosity to bear and I spent much of the afternoon scolding him for getting in my way while I was trying to work. He probably likes the new computer. He definitely likes the fact that there is more desk space (despite the iMac's screen being nearly double he size of the old eMac) for him to jump up on.
He's not too sure about the camera, though.
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday, upgrading
~~ victoria on 6:06 PM ~~ 0 comments
09 March, 2008
Simon Sunday: It's Been A Long, Icky Week
I think I took this Tuesday morning, before I packed myself off to Kaiser because my throat felt like there were 10,000,000,000 fire ants attacking it. Simon looked so gorgeous in the sunny window but I had the lensbaby on the camera and I knew there wouldn't be time to switch out lenses, so I did the best I could with it. It actually turned out pretty good, I think (I'm still getting the hang of using the lensbaby).
Thankfully, the strep test came back negative, but I've had a nasty cold all week. As always, Simon and Billie have looked after me well and Simon made sure I got plenty of bed rest (and snuggles). He has this "thing" where he'll get me to follow him to where he wants me to go, looking over his shoulder every couple of steps to make sure I hadn't gotten lost. Usually, the destination is the kitchen, but more often than not this week, he'd lead me to the bedroom. There were a few times this week where he wanted me to go back to bed but I wanted to stay at the computer for a while longer. When I'd try to adjust him on my lap, he'd nip my hand in frustration. Looking over at him now, he's crashed out in front of the window, as exhausted as I am from the all-night coughing fits and congestion and my constant shifting in bed because my throat hurt so horribly. No doubt he's also exhausted from being so disciplined all week and not taking advantage of the fact that my voice was gone-daddy-gone and I couldn't yell at him. (After a week, my voice is finally starting to come back on line, but I can only manage to squeak at the cats which brings on a new coughing fit...if they could, they'd laugh at me, I sound so ridiculous.)
To add to the chaos, we started Daylight Saving overnight. As usual, Simon just slotted right in and was ready for his breakfast at New7:00 a.m. And, as usual, I'm rather less than enthusiastic about DST (it sucks ASS). I'm just hoping Simon doesn't repeat his DST error of a few years ago when he "sprang forward" an hour every day for nearly a week. The 3:00 a.m. breakfast calls were not the least bit amusing.
Labels: cats, furkids, photography, sick, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 1:31 PM ~~ 0 comments
02 March, 2008
Simon Sunday: Alert the SPCA!
There is now video evidence of how mistreated poor Simon is!
Episode Six: The Simon Sebastien Show from Victoria K on Vimeo.
(I found some old short videos I shot on my point-and-shoot digital camera and finally got around to uploading a few of them.)
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 4:31 PM ~~ 0 comments
24 February, 2008
Simon Sunday: The Charmer
I came home Friday evening to find that quite a number of Simon and Billie's toys had migrated from their toy box onto my bed. Twist ties in many sizes and colours, Crackle Turtle (partially disemboweled), Crackle Squirrel (similarly maimed), a bobble bop and the last of Simon's Favourite jingle balls. Here's me thinking he slept all day when I was at the office!
We've tried a new tack with the problem of Getting Billie To Eat. She's damned determined that she'll have her meals served "free choice," but with He Who Eats Everything on the prowl that just isn't possible unless I leave him locked in the bedroom (I can't keep her in the bedroom because then she gets pissed off and pees on the bed). In desperation last Thursday, I brought her dish out just before going to bed. I brought Simon into the bedroom with me and kept the door closed while we slept. That way she had several hours to eat her food and, since she tends to be more on the nocturnal end of the scale, she has most of the apartment to herself to run around and play in. I have now dubbed her Vampira, since she feeds primarily at night. Thankfully, Simon is being good about being kept in the bedroom so far. In the past he has tended to insist on being let loose and would pester me or knock stuff off of the dresser until I relented and let him go.
I'm hoping that we've finally hit on a feeding plan where Billie finally gains back her weight, even though this is gonna make things really tricky finding someone to sit for them when I have to be out of town. Feeding them already was a bit of a time commitment: Now it's kind of a logistic nightmare because I'm certain that this works because I'm with Simon at night. I couldn't stand the thought of him being locked in the bedroom all alone for hours.
Here's hoping I don't come to that bridge anytime soon.
Labels: Billie, cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 4:26 PM ~~ 0 comments
17 February, 2008
Simon Sunday: Having Commandeered My Ironing Board
Simon discovered that the ironing board made a great place for a cat nap since it was nice and warm after I had ironed my skirt and a couple of shirts.
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 2:34 PM ~~ 0 comments
10 February, 2008
Simon Sunday: Toez
Although he has tried to dunk that paw into countless dishes of my food, I have NOT made it into a keychain. Besides, I think you're supposed to use the hind feet for keychains.
Kidding!
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 4:52 PM ~~ 0 comments
03 February, 2008
Simon Sunday: My Faithful Feline Nurse
I've been battling a cold for the last few days. Nurse Simon has stuck by me the whole time, making sure I'm adequately snuggled.
Labels: cats, furkids, sick, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 1:09 PM ~~ 0 comments
27 January, 2008
Simon Sunday: Where Does The Food Come Out?
This was taken a couple of weeks ago but I still catch Simon occasionally staring at the guitar for several minutes before trying to stick his paw inside the body, only to completely FREAK OUT when he brushes the strings and they make strange noises.
So convinced is Simon that this is supposed to dispense some kind of cat-approved food product that he's even tried to nibble on the strings. Yum!
My cat is Special.
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 6:52 PM ~~ 0 comments
20 January, 2008
Simon Sunday: Fresh Warm Laundry Is Good For Snuggling
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 5:09 PM ~~ 0 comments
13 January, 2008
Simon Sunday: zzzzzzzz*snort!*zzzzzzzzzz
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 4:18 PM ~~ 0 comments
06 January, 2008
Simon Sunday: Cattia, Heroine to Kittehz Everywhere
I had a little fun with Hero Machine and created my superhero character.
Okay, okay. I know you really came here for SIMON, so here he is, zonked after partying a bit too hard with the catnip on New Year's Eve:
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 4:59 PM ~~ 0 comments
30 December, 2007
Simon Sunday: Cozy
I'm staying in this afternoon snuggling with Simon and watching "Das Boot"...and uploading all this with my iPhone.
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 2:40 PM ~~ 0 comments
25 November, 2007
Simon Sunday: Worth 1000 Words
I would have finished my novel so much faster if I had just plunked in 50 photographs!
I'm down to the last 2,000 words to make the 50,000 NaNoWriMo finish line, so a photo of Simon, taken this morning when he was in an especially reflective mood, will have to suffice for this week.
Labels: cats, furkids, NaNoWriMo, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 5:08 PM ~~ 0 comments
18 November, 2007
Simon Sunday: "Aren't You Finished With That #@%! Novel Yet???
Simon only remembers the parts of Chris Baty's NaNoWriMo Bible "No Plot? No Problem!" that refer to snacking. Therefore, he's rather disappointed that not only is snacking NOT happening as often as he thinks it should be, but, in my push to hit 35,000 words this afternoon, his "tea" was a couple of minutes late. He's retaliating by leaping on to the back of my desk chair and draping himself over my shoulder, digging his back claws into my neck while I'm trying to type.
And, to top it all off, he thinks I'm writing the cat parts ALL WRONG. I'll be tappity-tapping away writing an amusing scene with one of the characters' cats (two characters have cats...so far), only to have him leap onto my desk and add such colourful scene description and back story like:
"lkopihdljkfdghewr0000000000000000000" and
"\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\098fgh"
Which wouldn't be so bad except that the first bit only counts as one word and the second one doesn't count at all!
Labels: cats, furkids, NaNoWriMo, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 8:06 PM ~~ 0 comments
11 November, 2007
Simon Sunday: Momma Needs Some Sutures...And A Stiff Drink!
Today was S-H-O-T-S day at the V-E-T for Simon. Actually, he got his postcard from them last month but with my back being out there was no way I was in any shape to schlep him to the vet and back. I had painstakingly completed the pre-flight: Rearranged the closet and "forgot" to put the carrier back in, opened the top door of the carrier while both cats were otherwise occupied and closed the bedroom door before attempting to put Simon in the carrier. However, when I kneeled down in front of the carrier, Simon yelped and clawed his way up my chest and over my shoulder and ran toward the bedroom (which is why the door stays *closed* on V-E-T day). We repeated the procedure two more times before I finally stuffed him into the carrier and closed the top door on him, securely sliding the locks in place. We were now running a little behind, so I decided there wasn't enough time to clean up and hoped that I didn't turn up at the vet's office with too many blood stains peeking through my shirt. As expected, he howled at the top of his lungs all the way to the car, eliciting the stares of all the outdoor kitties. Minon chattered sympathetically to Simon as we left the front porch, but the stray grey and white kitty who has made a home with my neighbor looked at me like I was some kind of monster, while the big black cat glared at both of us for ruining his nap. A couple of neighbors looked out their windows and I imagined what it would be like being the first clinical case of someone dying of embarrassment.
After a looooong eight-minute drive to the V-E-T, the receptionist mentioned that he was due for another test that required a, ummmmmm, sample. I elected to just collect one from his litter box at home rather than put him through a somewhat invasive procedure. The shots are bad enough, after all. We left a few minutes later, with a sample-collecting kit and Simon's rabies certificate in hand.
Once we got home I gave him some treats and praised him for being such a good kitty (the ripping my flesh apart and yowling notwithstanding) but soon it was time to vacuum the apartment. First he hid under the bed, only to fly out from the bottom of the bed like a bat out of hell when I ran the vacuum in the bedroom. Then he very cleverly hid on top of the couch because, you know, the BIG LOUD KITTY-EATING MACHINE almost never eats anything on the couch! Then he decided that the BLK-EM was lingering too long near the couch and it might see him and try to eat him, so he fled to the kitchen, where he took refuge behind my tiny wine rack.
So now Simon thinks that I owe him a steady stream of treats and attention for all of the traumas I've put him through today. My scrambled egg brunch narrowly escaped his groping paw. And I can barely type a paragraph without him jumping up on my desk or up over my chair and sticking his fluffy ass in my face.
I have a feeling it's gonna be a long, sleepless night.
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 4:58 PM ~~ 0 comments
04 November, 2007
Simon Sunday: Dude, Whuh?
No, Simon did NOT dress up as Billie for Halloween. I just liked this photo of her and decided I'd post it today.
We only had one group of trick-or-treaters Wednesday, which was just fine by Simon, as he has no enduring affection for the Small, LOUD Humans. As I expected, once the first (and only) group knocked on our door, he immediately got into his costume, which we call Lump Under The Bed Covers:
He sulked for about half an hour. When it looked as if no one else was coming, he came out of the bedroom, hoping to pahr-tay on all that sugary goodness. Of course, the lack of Small, LOUD Humans means I had a ton of candy left over and that I had to quickly figure out a Simon-proof way to store it. Most of the Jolly Rancher stuff is in a screw-top container. The chocolate is on the highest shelf in the pantry, which he has yet to figure out how to open, much less access the top shelf. But I'll need to unload the goods soon, because Simon has two three things going for him:
1) He has a highly developed sense of smell to the point where he can smell a sugary treat (sometimes even double-baggied!) stored deep inside my back pack. Which means that, if he hasn't figured out where the chocolate is yet, he will soon. (One would think that, with such a highly developed sense of smell, he'd have a great career as a bomb-sniffing cat. Except that BOMBS DON'T SMELL LIKE CHOCOLATE, so he'd just steal people's lunches and take off.)
2) He is persistent. If he's determined to eat the candy, he will figure out a way to get the pantry door open and to access the deepest recesses of the top shelf. It's only a matter of time.
3) He has a Working Mom, which means he has free run of the apartment ALL DAY LONG.
**sigh**
Labels: Billie, cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 11:03 AM ~~ 0 comments
28 October, 2007
Simon Sunday: (Early) Happy Halloween!
Simon immediately bonded with the pumpkin, despite the fact that it is not made of chocolate or goat cheese. I'm not sure how he'll feel about it, post-surgery on Tuesday, when it will come back with a face. I also haven't reminded Simon about the impending doom of all those LOUD Small Humans coming to our door (and taking all "his" candy). He'll figure it out soon enough.
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 7:23 PM ~~ 0 comments
21 October, 2007
Simon Sunday: Nappus Interruptus
I was trying to get a shot of him while he was sleeping because, you know, I only have 1,763 adorable photos of Simon sleeping, but OMG he was so cute and I didn't have a photo of him sleeping with his whiskers QUITE THAT WAY! Needless to say, I woke him up while reaching for the camera. He was displeased.
Labels: cats, furkids, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 7:05 PM ~~ 0 comments
18 October, 2007
This Makes Me Weep and Laugh
(For some reason YouTube is being all assy on my Mac, so if you're getting the endless loading spiral, just hit the play button and you should see the video.)
(h/t to Shakesville)
~~ victoria on 7:41 PM ~~ 0 comments
14 October, 2007
Simon Sunday: We Can Has Relijun?!?
I'm probably very late to the pew on this one, but I stumbled upon the LOLCat Bible Translation Project earlier this week. It is somewhat disturbing and so hilarious that Billie thought I had hurt my back again, I was laughing so hard. As far as I'm concerned, it's the best thing to ever be put on the internets.
I has an excerpt. Let me show you:
"1. And if pplz thinkz of steelin mah cheezburger, is wtf n00b, I is gonna PWNED u lolz.
2: And if sumone toucheded teh smelleh stuff he is smelly and no get cheezburger.
3: And if he toucheded sumone who no shower he becomes stinky, lyke omg srysly.
4: And if he sez he is steelin bucket he also no get cheezburger, kthx.
5: If he stealz mah cheezburger he has to sez so, MAH STEELIN CHEEZBURGER: LET ME SHOW YOU THEM.
6: And he has to bring Ceiling Cat a largeder cheezburger.
7: If he cantz bring largeder mebbe 2 medium size cheezburger, is ok, srysly.
8: And he shallz brings them to Ceiling Cats d00d and sez "O hai, I bringz you cheezburger, dont PWNED me! Kthx."
9: Then Ceiling Cat will eat cheezburger, n sumtimes mebbe he share, lolz.
10: And if they give Ceiling Cat second Cheezburger and he sez, omg cant eat no moar, so is ok, kthx. "
I may have to have Simon and Billie start up a LOLCat Bible Study group. Srsly.
Labels: Billie, cats, furkids, HAHA, LOL Cats, Simon, Simon Sunday
~~ victoria on 4:54 PM ~~ 0 comments
07 October, 2007
Oh Goody! She's On About Her Damn Back Again!
(Hey friends, this is a long post and I don't know why I'm compelled to post the whole story but I am. Read it if you want, but if you don't want the whole saga, then I invite you to skip down to today's Simon Sunday post. K'thxbye!)
======================================================
I really thought I'd have nothing new to post about my back problems after last weekend. I went for another acupuncture treatment last Tuesday and felt better than I had in several weeks.
And then...
I wake up Wednesday morning. The back/hip/leg is stiff and a little sore, but that's been The New Normal so I didn't worry too much about it, even if it was disappointing because I had felt so much better before I went to bed. I went through the morning ablutions, gave the cats some breakfast and went into the bedroom to finish my Chinese herb tea and get dressed while Billie ate her breakfast on my bed. I bent down to put my underwear on when something went horribly, horribly wrong. I don't know if a disc slipped or what exactly happened: All I know is that I was suddenly in the most horrific pain I have ever experienced in my life and I couldn't walk. I was trying so hard not to panic but it was a full-speed freight train coming right at me. I tried to stretch gently and nearly collapsed: I tried to walk it off but I could hardly move. I flopped myself onto the bed thinking that maybe if I just rested it for a few minutes it would be okay and I could get dressed and take the later boat in to work (how fucking sick is that?).
If I moved, even a hair's width, my right side shrieked in agony. I don't know how I did it, but I got up and, with the aid of my Swiffer broom stick (that I had been using as a cane), grabbed an old dress out of the closet and threw it over me, got to the back door and unlocked it so my friend S could get in, put the rest of Simon's breakfast in his dish and got my mobile phone before collapsing on the bed and, very gingerly and painfully, slithering under the covers. I left messages with the acupuncturist (her office was closed Wednesday but I didn't realize that at first) and the receptionist at my office (she said she never got my message, though I distinctly remember hearing her voice mail greeting and leaving a very gasping, panic-stricken message). I shivered under the covers for another hour or two before calling S (got her voice mail) and G (who, thank my stars, picked up). G came over (she has a spare key) and helped me with the cats and brought me water, made sure I was alright and told me to call if I needed a ride to the doctor or anything.
My nerves and muscles in right leg were so ground up that any trip to the bathroom or to the kitchen to get the ice pack left me shaking violently by the time I got back to my bed and it would take me several minutes of flopping (there was no strength in the leg to hold me up to even sit on the bed) slithering, moaning and screaming before I was under the covers again. Simon stayed next to me in bed: Billie stayed in the living room, but I could hear her pitter-pattering feet in the hallway and occasionally she'd meow softly until I answered her. I made an appointment at Kaiser for Thursday afternoon. I spoke to the acupuncturist: She thought she might try to come to my apartment to give me a treatment but she couldn't (not that I could have got to the door to let her in, anyway). She thought I should get a chiropractic adjustment. On one of my herculean efforts to get to the bathroom and back, I detoured to my desk for the blue post-it note pad with the name and phone number of S's chiropractor. I checked in at the office (that's when I was told that the receptionist didn't get my voice mail) and said I was done for the next couple of days, probably the rest of the week but that I'd keep checking in. At that point I was exhausted and my mobile phone battery was running low. I phoned G's a while later and spoke to C who said he or G would stop by in the evening. I managed to find a "least uncomfortable" position and slept fitfully for a couple of hours.
C came over and brought me my ice pack, mobile phone charger and hooked up my old iBook and the Airport Base station so I could at least check in online and then served the cats' food. I think he was on his way to something else and I felt bad that I kept him for so long. I got hold of S a couple of hours later and she said she would be over in the morning (she lives across the back yard from me) to help with the cats and would take me to Kaiser. I hardly slept at all and was exhausted when I had to get up to use the bathroom in the morning. I had it in my head that I HAD to feed the furkids myself so I tried to, though it ended up with me in tears, shaking violently and barely making it back to bed. S came over about an hour later and got the cats fresh water, scooped the litter box (I hated, but hated asking G and S to do that chore for me!) and brought me more water and the bottle of Rescue Remedy she found by the kitchen sink. She said she'd be back in a few hours to take me to my Dr. appointment at Kaiser. I rested as long as I could and I made an appointment with her chiropractor for Friday morning.
I got up again to try to get myself together for the appointment, my wallet, check book, glasses, mobile phone, etc. I collapsed on the bed again for another hour or so before I heard S's footsteps in the back garden. SHIT! I realized I still didn't have underwear