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Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Cat House

We have ended up keeping the black cat. He is adjusting well. Very calm.  Our other male is still not pleased, but they are getting better. The other day I had them both approximately in my lap being petted at the same time. Things like that will help. He tolerates the four-year-old version of petting quite well. Even seeming to enjoy it, despite the occasional roughness. Mr. N is calling the cat 'Shadow,' so I suppose that will be his name.

In the mean time, a family member has had to get rid of her two kittens. We agreed to take the two kittens and find them homes but... They've stayed. One is a Himalayan Persian, which the Bratling promptly decided she must have. The other is a sweet, sleek little cuddler, who also has energy to play like nothing I've ever seen.

Bratling's former kitty wasn't too happy about sharing a home with other animals, and had taken to hiding all the time. My mother took her in, and they are getting along wonderfully.

This means we have five cats, a dog, several rats, three adults, and one child all living in a two bedroom house. Eek! Still, we like all the cats too much to decide to re-home even one. Hubby says that if it starts to annoy him, we'll consider it, but until then we can keep them.

Having so many cats has definitely added a sense of urgency to my desire for building cat shelves. Vertical space is a good thing!

Posted at 12:50 pm by Anjelle

Friday, July 17, 2009
And They Can Change Lives

Love and magic have a great deal in common. They enrich the soul, delight the heart. And they both take practice. -Nora Roberts

Posted at 08:58 am by Anjelle

Friday, July 10, 2009
Foster Home

I was walking down the street, studying the flowers and land. At the far end, a black cat lay in the road. I paused to look closer at one of the weeds, and when I next looked to the cat, it was walking toward me.

There was a hesitant sort of dance. I didn't want to scare the kitty away, but I wanted closer. On it's part, I think the cat just wasn't sure whether I was friendly or not. Upon agreement that a little pet and sniff wasn't going to hurt anyone, we met in the middle.

There was a collar, but no tags. The collar was too small. Skin around the cats torso hung in a way that suggested weight loss. A sore on the tail confirmed that this cat was, if not homeless, at least not well cared for. (A large, pink, wet-looking sore with swollen puss-filled bumps. Occasionally, the poor kitty would turn slowly to lick at it.)

After begging Hubby, we brought the kitty home. It desperately needs a trip to the vet. With all of our other animals -- three cats, a small dog, and several rats -- it is unlikely that we will be able to keep the newcomer. I will probably end up seeing to it's health and finding it a loving home.

Kitty seems to be fairly comfortable already. We saw to feeding it, and cleaned the wound with diluted hydrogen peroxide. Confidently, it sniffed about the space, before finding a good spot and sprawling out. Movements were slow and carefully deliberate, but not in a way to suggest slinking or an inclination to run at a moments notice.

The only thing it clearly didn't like was being put into the travel box. Considering the cat is taller than the box, I don't blame it, but there really wasn't another option. Once in the box, all was a-ok, so long as I kept my fingers in petting range.


(I believe the feline to be male, but it's hard to be sure. If male, definitely fixed. We'll know more about the situation after the weekend, when we can get in to the vet.)

Thursday, July 09, 2009
Curiouser and Curiouser

Sometimes things happen for which you must simply accept that there is no explanation.

Such as my half-empty bottle of conditioner -- normally seen only in the shower -- appearing on the bedroom dresser overnight.

No one recalls moving it. It wasn't there when we went to bed. Yet, sure enough, there it was on top of my glasses where I couldn't miss it.

Do you suppose the fairies were trying to remind me to condition my hair this morning?

Tuesday, July 07, 2009
Sometimes It Doesn't Work

I don't know if this is true for everyone, but it is true for me.

There comes a point where trust is broken beyond reasonable repair. Not that it could not be regained -- and in the experience I had recently, it very nearly was -- but that the method of regaining is so far beyond what can be expected of even the most patient and dedicated human.

It isn't that I can't forgive for what has passed. I have. I hold no resentment for the mistakes made. I know I made my own.

It is simply that I have learned through experience that X person cannot be trusted with Y. Probably what I have learned is no longer true, for people evolve and grow constantly. Still, I have learned it, and unlearning is too difficult for everyone involved.

It hurts to acknowledge. Not only the person hoping for trust, but it hurts me, too. I want to trust the people that I love. I want them actively in my life. I want to talk with them, and spend time with them, and laugh and be worry free.

Sometimes... It hurts more to keep trying and failing, than it does to be honest with myself.

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