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Dearest Tiki You are... simply awesome. And I don't mean that in the cool lingo way. I am simply in awe of you. Here you are, with a cancerous mass on your shoulder, due to go in for surgery next week, and you are worried about ME. (we spoke with our pet communicator this morning, as I wanted to make sure my 13+ year old Tiki was strong enough to want to go through the surgery. Her answer was quick and firm. Yes.) You told me that I don't laugh enough, and that when you do cross over, that you will send me someone who will make me laugh more. And then your brat of a sister got into an arguement with me (via the pet communicator) about wanting to go outdoors. It was clearly explained to her WHY she can't go out, she was pouty, and then when I was still on the phone, she pushed the screen out of the window and went anyway. I spent over four hours in a crisis panic. You watched as I paced the yard, the neighborhood, the back field over and over again, calling, whistling, shaking the treat bag, clanging a spoon on Jazzi's bowl, and crying. Jazzi hasn't been out on her own in eight years. Her health isn't good. MY health isn't good. (Not to mention that I have friends who have driven hundreds - one of them a thousand! - miles to spend the weekend with me, and I was spending the first day searching for my bratty cat), and I was in complete panic crisis, health crisis, emotional crisis... EVERYTHING crisis. When she didn't come back in time for her afternoon meal, you sat up and looked into my eyes, and I knew you knew what to do. I had debated this, but you have trouble walking on that one leg, and I didn't know if this was too much to ask of you, but your eyes held so much confidence and wisdom, that I decided to try. Normally, you squirm when I put your harness on, but you simply stood up and held very still, head held high, even though the harness goes right over the lump on your shoulder. I picked you up as gently as I could and took you out and placed you on the ground under the window. "Find Jazzi," I said. "Find your sister." You sniffed around for a moment, then confidently limped around the corner of the house. Again, a brief stop to sniff, and then limped along the house a little further until you reached a spot where the skirting had a hole in it (We live in a mobile home), and you peered in. And then, you took me to the porch, climbed the steps, sat in front of the door and meowed, as if saying "My work here is done." I didn't know what to think. Were you too uncomfortable walking and giving up? Were you too scared to be out? Was I hoping for too much? I asked you a few more times to find Jazzi, and each time, you looked up at the door and meowed. I sat on the steps and nearly burst into tears again. I heard some rustling from under the house, but each time, there wasn't any bell ringing or meowing, so I thought it must be one of the chipmunks or squirrels.... until a white Jazzi-paw poked out from one of the holes in the skirting and flailed wildly. I quickly tied your leash to the porch and ran to pull aside the skirting, and out crawled Jazzi. I figure she ran in after a chipmunk and couldn't get back out again. She was filthy, with dirt even hanging off her whiskers, but she couldn't wait to get inside and EAT. And so, my precious Tiki... I am in awe of you. Fighting cancer... and yet you find your brat of a sister for me, walking in a harness that chaffed right over the cancer-lump... heck, when even just WALKING is uncomfortable. You are a hero-kitty. You can do anything. You never stop amazing me. Fifty pounds of awesome in a seven pound package. * Dear Jazzi And after that, you DARE to try and slip out the door again? You damn well BET that I'll throw a bucket of water at you for trying! And just because I was so pissed at you, you damn well BET that I not only threw that bucket of water at you, but hell YEAH I took you out on the porch and dumped ANOTHER bucket of wet stuff ON TOP OF YOU. OUTDOORS IS NOT FOR YOU! TOUGH LOVE! No more open window for you! Not until that screen is BOLTED IN. You've lost all open-window privileges, unless I am sitting right on top of you, and I might just mean the ON top of you part. TOUGH LOVE, cat. TOUGH LOVE. Tags: jazzi, tiki
Current Mood:  indescribable
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| | | | Dear Jazzi,
I have no sympathy for you.
I know the chipmunks have been taunting you, but you know the rules. You stay INSIDE THE WINDOW.
I know it's been hard this summer, with the chippermunkers racing back and forth, but there is no compromise on this one. You stay INSIDE THE WINDOW.
So when my hands were full of birdseed and that chipper raced by and you leapt out, hit the ground running, and then slammed face-first into the side of the house when the chipper ran under it?
NO SYMPATHY!
I do appreciate that you stayed put while I went through the house, out the door, and saw your little face peering around the corner at me. And when I came around the corner, I saw you peering up at the window, wondering if maybe you should jump back in before I got to you. But then, when you started wandering around towards THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HOUSE, I had to scruff you, and I know I wasn't all that gentle, but NO SYMPATHY! Even when you squeaked.
And THAT is why the window remained shut ALL DAY. Not even a tiny crack for the fresh air and good smells. Your sister and bunny-brother SUFFERED because of you. ALL YOUR FAULT.
(ok, maybe the window was also shut because of the hideous heat and humidity and that the air conditioner was on, but I'm not telling her that part, because NO SYMPATHY!)
You, my dear, have been window-grounded today!
So there. |
Tags: jazzi
Current Mood:  enraged
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Spring has definately sprung! So far, the baby count is: At least two baby downy woodpeckers, although I am pretty sure there are more. Two baby white-breasted nuthatches (eee! so tiny! I was sitting out between two trees, and one was perched on each tree trunk, so I was hearing "quah quah quah" in stereo!) One baby hairy woodpecker (Big Daddy and Big Momma's off-spring!) At least one red-bellied woodpecker, although I haven't seen it up-close yet. The nest is right near my yard and I've seen the parents ferrying food to and fro for a couple of weeks now. The baby just came out for the first time this week, but hasn't quite made it to my yard yet. Several baby grackles. Two baby robins, who get left in my feeding area several times a day now by Momma, who comes back and checks on them often, but as soon as they start squawking, she flies off again. They are definately getting "weened". One baby cottontail, who has done several "drive-by rabbitings" and I also saw him in the middle of the patch of wild strawberries behind my house, torn between sheer delight in having all that sweetness to himself... and looking very tiny and "please don't eat me"-ish. All I could see was his face from the eyes up and his ears over the tiny strawberry plants. Two baby grey squirrels, brought around by Momma today for the first time. It was hard to tell just who Momma was, because there were EIGHT squirrels here for breakfast, but I have my suspicion that it was Gimpy. Tags: bird watching, cottontail, squirrels, within the fence
Current Mood:  sore
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Yesterday, my next door neighbors told me that the robin had set up an nest with three babies in their shed. They weren't all together that happy about it, but they were letting it stay until the babies were grown. Every time they walked in, three heads would pop up over the edge of the nest with their mouths wide open, squealing for food. Today when I went out, there was a bird sitting by my front steps. He didn't move as I went closer, and I thought.. oh, great, another sick bird. But then when I got really close, he started squawling and hopping around, and I could see he was a baby robin. No tail yet, and fuzzy feathers. He wasn't flying, and not too good at the hopping yet either... but he had the squawling down real good. "Mom! Mom! Ugly human-thing after me! Mom! MOM!" And here came Mom, hopping across the yard, bee-lining right for him, and then he REALLY started jumping up and down and squeaking and flailing like a little muppet. Mom did what momma birds do best. She shoved something into his mouth and hopped away, with the baby stumble-hopping after her still squawling. And everytime she got too far ahead, he'd squawl louder, and she'd come back. Instant flailing and hopping, appearing over the top of the tall grass with every flail-hop. And she'd stuff something else in his mouth and keep going, with the little one stumble-hopping after her, squeaking with every hop. I couldn't stop laughing. Tags: bird watching
Current Mood:  giggly
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