Sprawls and Snuggles

The other night I was talking to Dan about how making him and the babies, and people in general, happy makes me happy. I like to do things for other people, especially the people I love. I don't necessarily need credit (although a huge pet peeve of mine is someone else getting the glory for something I've worked very hard on), and I don't always need thanked. If I've done something nice for someone, it brings me real joy. I don't think the joy comes from the actual deed... I think it comes from the reaction and the feeling. Having someone do something to show you they care, appreciate and love you is an amazing feeling; Being the giver gratifies in equal measures.

While we were talking, Dan reminded me that making time for myself is important, too. I sort of blew off the comment (sorry Dan ;) and went about my merry way. But today, after being sent home from work due to a mean case of pink eye, and having time to think, I realize how much I've actually slowed down in the past few months. It's really hard to enjoy life's experiences when we're in motion constantly... especially when we're running 90-miles an hour with sweat pouring and life slapping us in the face, telling us to slow the hell down. That would be me on a frazzled day. ;)

Anyway, not too long ago, I would feel guilty for just sitting down and watching a TV show. I would have to fold laundry, clip coupons or be busy doing some other random task, because I didn't want to "be lazy"... Don't get me wrong, I still multitask (I wouldn't be me if I didn't), but my very favorite thing to do now is just veg, snuggle, watch a show, maybe have a drink and dinner... just be totally & completely content with doing nothing. I realized today that this (and the occasional nap) is what I do for myself.

When I got home today, the kitties greeted me at the door, and when I went to nap my pink eye away (it didn't work damn-it!), Sasha curled up at the end of the bed, and shortly thereafter, began snoring happily. I took a peek at her, and she was completely sprawled out, happy and content.

The moral of my story? It's okay to be like a cat sometimes. They do nice things for people without even trying. They bring joy just by being present. They nap and are completely okay with being utterly comatose. While we can't spend all of our days that way (and let's face it, how boring would that be?), it's okay to be free like a feline now and again.

Fuzz & Fluff

Beauty in Furr-Form

It occurred to me this evening that I haven't blogged since the new year began. I have lots of happy things to dwell on right now, which is an incredible contrast to some of last year's life changes (see most-recent blog post for details). The holidays were extremely tough, but I had work to keep me busy, and friends to keep me sane ;) Thank God for my babies! They reminded me to keep my spirits up, and I sailed into the new decade quite hopeful... and I haven't been let down. Persistence and patience *sigh* are wonderful qualities. While my persistence is nothing short of one of my finest qualities, patience does not come naturally to me. Quite honestly it doesn't come to me at all. But somehow I've managed to practice it over the past few months. Patience pays off. :0) *big happy smiles*



As I sit here with my new-ish-to-me Himalayan kitty cat, Sasha, I realize that if you have been reading my blog for a while (I've made it past the one year mark, by the way! *self pat on the back... or ass... or wherever*), you probably know that I'm an animal lover. Yes, I have degraded helpless pets in the past by writing mean stories about them, but deep down, I love them to pieces. Sitting here with my lovely Sasha, I can't deny it... I'm smitten with a cat ^^= ♥!

Sasha became part of the family on December 9th of last year. She's been with us for over a month now, and she is an absolute delight! She's good with the kids, although I have decided against getting her declawed, due to the fact that the poor little fluff needs to play defense now and then, and the fact that a kneading, loving cat is just, well... natural. While I have had pet cats declawed in the past, it strikes me as funny now, as we tend to not de-fingernail (or de-toenail, for that matter) humans, unless they have been incredulously naughty (in the bad type of way, not the rawrrrr type of way)... so why subject our poor kitty to the ripping out of the claws. I'd rather not.

As I tend to get off-track, let me get back to the subject at hand, Ms. Sasha. I first learned about the dear poof ball from my best friend Anne. She mentioned that there was a kitty hanging out way out in the country, in the cold and snow, and although Anne's friend and her neighbors were feeding Sasha, she didn't have a real home. This went on for a few weeks. One night Anne sent me a picture of her, and I instantly became giddy! It had been over 5 years since I had a kitty... and I happen to LOVE Himi's and Persians, so this was like a dream come true. I did have plans to get a kitty this year, and that is still the plan (yes, Sasha will soon have a brother or sister... unless they are fond of each other, and then that's just incestuous and gross)... I just didn't count on a beautiful purr baby falling in my lap like she did. I'm thankful for her.

The night Anne took the kids and I out to meet Sasha, I was excited. I had a bit of guilt, because I was intent on waiting for a pet... but as soon as I saw her, I fell in love. I had to have her! She had to come home with me! She was needy for attention, and just beautiful as could be. She looked like an angel, and she had to be mine.

I bought the bare necessities for our girl... litter box, liners, litter itself, a bowl and food. Sasha was a hair skiddish at first (she found comfort under the Christmas tree and hiding in some duct in the basement), but she soon came around! She is now miss sociable Sasha. Everyone that stops over loves her! And it melts my heart when she sits in the window seat in the early mornings, watching the kids and I scoot off for the day. Nearly every morning I hear "bye house, bye Sasha" as we're driving down the road. She's just as much part of this house as our house is now, if that makes any sense. Basically she's a fixture. She moves, but she's a fixture. Huh... moving on... fixing to move on... jeez, just move... :P

While I'm on the topic of pets, my lovely-as-he-could-possibly-be boyfriend sent me a link tonight to a video on youtube. I watched that video, and then I stumbled onto several more. If you are an animal lover, you will find pure enjoyment just from watching this 41 second video by Parry Gripp. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X2F4EFYM_MA&NR=1

And this is the video that made me dig for more: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SMWi7CLoZ2Q&NR=1

And one more... if you are a cat lover, you will appreciate these very useful flushing felines... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hcuv9RuO0NE

Check out youtube for more. The bunny at the end of video number one made me giggle and cry at the same time.

So, in closing, as you've probably heard, people who have pets are happier people. Statistics suck, in my opinion, but this I happen to believe. I truly missed having pets in my life. I'm happy someone neglected their beautiful cat... I'm sorry she spent so many nights in the cold... but I'm happy she became OUR house cat :) She'll be spoiled rotten for the rest of her 9 lives.

Helk! Helk! Can you hear me Helk?!

Me and My Brit-Brit

One of my best friends Brittany is getting a puppy. I am happy for her. While I had an overwhelming urge for one of my own a while back, the feeling has passed. I now want a cat. I don't want a cat right at this moment. I'm quite happy to live with my children (animals) for the next few months, and then maybe adopt a little creature of the feline variety. We'll see...

So back to Brittany, or Brit as I like to call her... Brit's puppy-to-be is blind. Poor pup. He's rather cute. He's a bit too young for Brit to bring home, so she has conjugal visits with him now and again (:P). The bad thing is the pup isn't only blind, he's deaf too (and Brittany will have no idea with a conjugal visit entails or means for that matter.:P). I suggested naming the dog Helen Keller. Brittany was not so keen on this name choice due to the fact that the pup is in fact a boy. So I suggested Helk (short for the lovely Helen)... I think it's rather discreet, unless you know the reasoning behind the name, and it really doesn't matter what in the hell ya call the damn dog, cause he's can't hear your damn calls or read your blessed lips anyway. Bless his little heart.

Arm Candy

Later this evening, on our girls' night out, Brit broke the news that she would be getting a different puppy now. Helk will be going to live with a woman who will take him to nursing homes, etc. as a therapy dog. I will not mention the comments I made regarding this dog labor, due to upsetting the general, not so easily-amused public. It was quite funny though (to those of us with sick minds). Let's just say it had something to do with the dog not knowing where in the hell he is at the moment, is going in the future or has been in the past. What a sad puppy life. I realize that people manage to adapt to their surroundings and limitations (I am living proof!), but jeez!

Now don't think I'm evil. These are just my own very distorted, disturbed thoughts. I love pups and dogs. I happen to love blind dogs, deaf dogs, dumb dogs, evil dogs, loving dogs, shmooshy-faced dogs, poofy dogs, rat-looking dogs, mini-me dogs, striped dogs, spotted dogs, plain jane dogs, slut dogs, male-whore dogs, rabbit-chasing dogs, lap-swimming dogs, scrap-eating dogs, kid-friendly dogs, crotch-sniffing dogs, boot-eating dogs... but the one thing I can't stand? Poop-licking dogs. Anyone or anything who will eat their own dung? Disgusting! So if you partake in poo, you are not on my friends list. Delete me from your Facebook, your contacts, your life... cause I don't roll that way ;)The Innocents...

Brit, take good care of your dog with 5 senses. I pray Helk will have a beautiful life... *stifling very rude comments*... I wonder if laser surgery has been tested on dogs? Everything else has...

:P

Cryptic, I know.

Until next time,
Kell ;)

Pet Cemetery

I once killed my brother's sick iguana Damien trying to force-feed him kale with tweezers. He got me back by frying my hermit crab on top of his hot TV. Pay back's a bitch.

We had 2 bats out in our garage a while back. Joel yelled at me to come see them. I went to look, but with the whole blind thing going on, I could just see little black specklets. He did get the camera & zoom though, so I could see a picture of them. They were baby bats. I was amused and freaked out at the same time. Joel went at them with a broom. He managed to impale one, but couldn't find it to dispose of it. That freaked me out more than the living bat. Two weekends ago we cleaned out our garage (a 5 1/2 hour project) due to the big move coming up. I tip-toed a bit, just knowing I would be the one to find the dead bat (the live one has since escaped). No bat. I'm convinced the neighborhood bull frogs found him & carried him to safety. My question is... since we've had bats... if I call them my pet birds, does that make me goth? I have the skin for it... I had the birds for it... I'm pretty sure if I start wearing black, suck on a blue blow pop for a while and don't wash my newly black/purplesque hair for 3 weeks I'll be goth. Please advise if you are up to date on current 'dark' trends. I'd really like to sell myself as a goth chick.

Evil Cat

A few years ago, my parents had a cat, Callie. Callie was a calico cat. Imagine that! Callie was a cool cat... fat (the best cats are fat) and PSYCHOTIC! She purred persistently, and licked! She licked a lot! She liked to rub her head on our necks and faces (this is fabulous if you have allergies like I do). Callie would be purraciously rubbing herself on someone, and then Yeoooooooowwwwwwwwwshamalamabingboom... sink her claws right into ya. She liked to nibble too. Her nibbles were psycho nibbles, not love-me-tender nibbles. But mostly she loved to scratch. Damn cat. I believe she was shipped off to the farm. She had a pissing problem too... poor thing. I'm sure a coyote came along and ate her.

Innocent my ass

That brings me to Mittens. Mittens was a tabby cat. I was quite young when we had Mittens, but I believe I have a grasp on the Mittens story, or at least my own perception of it. You see, my parents, my brother and sister and I (along with our many living pets and the pet cemetery in our back yard) lived in the boondocks as some may say. If you are un-Ohioan or high-class, you may not understand that term... we lived in the wilderness... the country... a house between four corn fields. Basically, we could easily be described as The Children of the Corn living in Pet Semetery. Both movies... freaky as hell by the way. So, not to get off topic, at night there were coyotes around our house. Mittens took a 4-legged stroll one night and came home with exactly 3 mittens, 3 paws, 3 pads and a bloody stump. Mittens hobbled like a champ. If there were special Olympics for cats, she would've been a shoe-in, or a mitten-in more appropriately. Years later Mom and Dad told us that Ms. Mittens died behind the chicken coop (yes we had a chicken coop... with no chickens :( ... I believe another coyote toted Mittens off and ate her other 3 legs for dinner and she was unable to swim home, due to the drought. But that's just my version.


Matting... a common Persian problem... :P

One of my dreams, allergies and all, was to have a Persian cat... a cat with a face so smooshed and mangled-looking that people would ask if it hit a tree going 80+ miles per hour. The smooshier the better. After Joel and I got married, I saved money, in lieu of paying our electric bill, to save up for my dream kitty. We wound up with 3 of my dream kitties... Visa, the smooshiest of them all. Visa was a red-point Himalayan. If you don't know what that means, don't worry, I won't bore you with the details (just know that I know more than you do :P Anyway, Visa was beautiful, and smooshed to high-heaven! Then there was Bonnie, a grey Persian with a horrible attitude problem. She was gorgeous, so I didn't much care that she was a royal bitch. Angelica was the last. She was a cute little calico Persian kitten with a semi-smashed face (looked like her face had ran into something soft, like a couch or a bean bag chair at high speed). The one point I hadn't considered when we bought long-haired, high-maintenance cats... hairballs! Oh my, did we have hairballs! Excessive hairballs. Hairballs that stretched a good ruler-length across a room. The cats all had different color-points, so we could monitor who was puking the most. Sure, we could get the cats shaved, cut short or waxed, but that defeated the whole purpose of having a Persian, smoosh-faced mutant cat. I suppose I didn't brush them enough... I'm glad I've grown and learned... my kids wouldn't be nearly as cute as they are if I neglected their hair for 3 months at a time. We just shave their heads instead... much easier to maintain.

As to not bore my readers, I will tell you about my past pets, including my cat Jinx, in moderation. Mutt, Scruffy, KeeKee, Zach, Taffy, Snickers, Mama Cat, etc... rest in peace... and in pieces.

Will add pictures of my actual pets at a later date. :P

Dragging Cats & Missing Appendages

I hate driving. I truly do. I take that back... I like driving to and from work only. I love listening to my music at illegal volumes, singing even louder & tuning out everything that is evil... including my cell phone.

I'm also not much of a phone person. I have a select few people I enjoy talking to on the phone. Other than that, I screen. I don't mean to be a screener... I know it's quite rude, but know in advance... if you call me, there is a good chance I'll look at my caller ID and put my phone down, emptily promising myself to call you later.

Now if you text me, I'll most-likely answer. I wish all of the calls I get at work could just arrive in text form. For such a social person, I sure do enjoy technology! I'd rather see your face when we talk to me... or just not talk at all. It's not you, it's me. And it has nothing to do with how much I like you, or how interesting you come across on the phone... well, actually it has everything to do with that, but I wouldn't want to hurt any feelings here.

Back to driving... I have hit several mailboxes in my day. Luckily they weren't too badly injured, and I drive pretty much the same, even though I no longer have a passenger side mirror, due to my love for touching mailboxes with my rear views. I truly don't miss it. For a while, I left it hanging there, cracked & broken, whipping in the wind. One day I was guilt-stricken. I felt like an evil cat hitter dragging the cat at high speeds down a busy highway, while people called 911 to report mirror/cat abuse. I couldn't afford jail time and my conscious couldn't take it, so now I'm just completely mirrorless on that side. It's sort of like having one ear, one breast or one eye... you have to work a little harder to do every day things (such as cut people off) but in the long run, we become stronger people because of it.

You see, in the rearview mirror of life, you may see things differently than you would if they were in front of you. For instance, if a mailbox hit me, I may think twice about driving too closely to the right side of the road. If I called God and he checked his caller ID only to promise to call me later, I may be more apt to answer my phone. My running into mailboxes has taught me a lot. I will now be writing a book... "Everything I've Learned in This Life I've Learned from Hitting Mailboxes"...

It's the smallest events in life which teach us the biggest lessons.

-Kelly ;)