Purrr-fect

**Warning - if you are an animal lover in general, a cat lover specifically, this is the post for you. If not...tune out now you'll be bored to tears.**

As many of you already know - since my very popular blogging hubby announced it some time ago, we have adopted two new furry friends into our family. After 6 months of turning items dropped on the floor into the ghost of our last pet - the memorable CK Dexter Haven - we determined we were ready to take the emotional leap into pet-hood again.

We knew we did NOT want to re-create our experience with Dex - the good or the bad - but to create a new one. I begain searching on http://www.petfinder.com/ for local charities that supported pet adoption programs. I specifically skipped any cats that physically reminded me of Dex, staying well clear of black fur. And I was mostly focusing on kittens.

The best laid plans.

After talking with a dear friend who is of the highest order of all animal lovers - the kind who takes in strays and DOES NOT reject them if they get extremely ill, destroy property, attack other house pets, or any other digression - we started to consider adult cats as an option. She said that usually the kittens find homes, but many of the adults are left to live in shelters, non-permanent homes, or worst of all be put to sleep because they are no longer as cute as a kitten.

So, new plan.

We decided to wander in to our local PetSmart who offer space in their store on weekends to some pet adoption organizations. We walked up to the glass and immediately separated. Hubby made eye contact with a wildly gesticulating 12-week old grey/black tabby, while I melted at the golden eyes staring soulfully out at me from (you guessed it) a big black furry face.

We've got a live one!

Within seconds the "crazy cat ladies" as I will affectionately and not inaccurately term the women of the adoption organization, descended upon us and wanted to know what we were looking for in a pet. They quickly opened cages and placed the kitten in Hubby's arms, and the black cat in mine. Immediate purring commenced from both animals and we were hooked. We placed them on the floor together where they...inspected?...one another. The kitten, being young, foolish and rambunctious, immediately leaped on the black cat until a warning hiss sent her scurrying. Still, they seemed compatible enough, and we were ready.

Red tape and paperwork.

I sat down at the table and began the paperwork. The adoption application that had to be filled out were 6 pages long! We had to pass a kind of fit test to ensure we were appropriate to adopt. They asked for references, commitment to spay but NOT declaw, commitment to not set limits on how much we would spend for vet care in event of illness, commitment to not allow the cats outdoors, etc. etc. etc. The paperwork warned of serious screening of references, imminent home visits, and retrieval of the pets should the home be considered unsuitable. In addition, we had to meet with the woman currently fostering the black cat as she required preapproval.

Crazy cat ladies indeed.

After about 15 minutes in walks the woman fostering the cat we wished to adopt. Complete with pink sweatshirt with sequined kitties, stretch pants, big Edith Head black plastic framed glasses, and jet black dyed hair down to her waist, she was a sight to behold. She gave us her own little pre-screening once over and pronounced us acceptable and then took us on a whirlwind tour of the store to pick out just the right food, toys, litter, and accoutrements to make our house perfect for the Queen. She also indicated that both cat and kitten might leap up on our table to be fed since she was currently fostering NINE cats and SIX dogs and she had to feed the cats on her dining room table so the dogs didn't eat their food. Ok, I love cats, but yuck. I really don't want something that licks its own butt and genitals eating off my dining room table.

The Queen and the Princess.

The Queen, who was christened Yasmine before we got her (we call her Yazzy or Yazmatazz) is only a little over 1 year old, and weighs twice what Dexter ever weighed. In short, she's a porker. And, despite my declarations to stay away from black cats, she is JET black.

She LOVES getting attention from us - but in typical cat fashion she has specific boundaries and restrictions. She wants to be petted, but does not want to be in our laps. She will allow herself to be carried, but not held. She does NOT like her belly to be touched, but arches her back and sticks her ass up in the air so we can pay attention to her lower back area - petted, scratched, patted, whatever we like all the time. She also is very fond of being our morning wake-up call and likes to crawl on our pillows and bat our faces at about 4AM. Maybe she will finally succeed in turning me into a morning person. And she does not feel that we deserve or should expect any privacy while in the bathroom. She wants IN. NOW.

The Princess, who was originally named Daphne and we re-named Penny, is a pistol. She likes to be in our faces (literally) and has discovered one of Dex's favorite resting places, wrapped around my laptop with the double heat source of sunspots and laptop motor fans.

She is a typical kitten - everywhere at once - up down and over - and using her claws to go vertical at every opportunity. She loves to crawl up the chairs we have in our home office, which have a tapestry like fabric that she can really hook into. I can't say the chairs (or I) are quite so happy about it. She will not leave Yaz alone. Ever. Ever. Ever. She likes to bat at Yaz until Yaz gets to a point where she either engages in a full out throw-down or runs away with the little kitten chasing her. I can't express how funny it is to see the big lumbering fat black cat being chased up and down the stairs by the skinny sleek little tabby. Rarely it turns the other way, which is almost as funny as Penny tends to turn at the last minute and jump about 4 feet straight up in the air always catching Yaz by surprise.

Our new family unit.

It's been an interesting transition again - having just become accustomed to life without an animal, to take in two new and strange creatures. I think it's going to work out.

But that commitment to not declaw? That's still up for debate.

Thinking of Dexter

In July we lost our pet of nearly 18 years, a little black kitty named Dexter (or C.K. Dexter Haven - from the Philadephia Story. I've been thinking of him a lot the last few weeks. I've stumbled on some pictures recently, and others that I know have recently lost pets and it brings the feeling back.

Hubby and I were always adamant that we not be called Dexter's Mom and Dad...I never really understood why people did that. But yet, he was a child of ours in many ways, totally dependent on us for his care and feeding, subject to our moods and whims, and a part of our emotional health.

They say that pets can lengthen your life, lower your blood pressure, reduce your stress, and provide you with comfort simply by allowing you to stroke their fur, walk them around the block, listen to them purr or snore. I believe it. After his death, our house felt so very very empty at first that it was almost unbearable. It actually no longer felt like a welcome place to be. It was uncomfortable and silent. You see, Dex was antisocial with everyone except us. With us, he couldn't get enough. He always wanted to be with us - he loved parking on my desk - often wrapping his body around my laptop, enjoying the heat from it and watching my fingers on the keys.

But time changes things, and you adjust to the new normal. I think over the past six months we have stopped seeing him in every shadow on the floor, stopped waiting for him to come around the corner, ceased feeling a phantom jumping on the bed when one of us moves a certain way. There are moments, however, when I just cannot believe that crazy animal is gone. When I walk in the door at night, I feel it. For nearly 18 years I would walk in and he would run to greet me, and my greeting to him would be, "Hello Monster." Because he was a monster in so many ways. A bit of a sociopath honestly. But he was our sociopath.

It's funny to realize that our little Dexter witnessed our early years of marriage, several apartments and homes, and all of the events of our 20's and our 30's, eventually seeing us both turn 40. Far from being just a bystander, they are witnesses and participants in our lives and help us mark the time on this earth. We see them grow older more rapidly than we do - almost as a precursor to our own aging, often facing illnesses that may bring more suffering than quality of life can bear. Would that someone would show us the humanity of helping us depart the world in dignity as we can help our pets when the cure is worse than the illness, or when the pain and suffering gets to be too much.

I miss Dexter. He was a good companion, and always a good source of anecdotes because of his crazy antics. I think we gave him a good home. I think he had a good life. I think he would understand and hopefully appreciate that we put him to sleep knowing his life had little joy and a lot of suffering. I wish we could have allowed him a death in his sleep at home, curled at the foot of our bed, warming his fur in a sunspot, but we didn't have control of that choice.

I've found myself checking out websites for shelters in our area...looking at cats that need a new home. I think we're almost ready to do this again. Maybe we'll even get two cats this time. One for each lap, one for each pair of feet, a duo that can keep one another company while we go about our human business.

This time, we'll have animals who will witness our 40's, 50's and maybe even as we turn 60. If they are like Dex, they will give us as much care as we give them - and will comfort us, quiet our stress, and make us laugh. They may even drive us a little crazy, destroy a few loved pieces of furniture or bedding, and frighten our guests. But they'll be OUR little monsters, just the same.

Round and Round it Goes

So this morning I awoke to find hubby slumped and seated at side of the bed.

"Something wrong Babe?"

"Yeah, I can't stand up."

"WHAT???"

"I can't stand up. Every time I do I feel like I'm gonna fall over - I'm so dizzy and nauseous."

"OK, lay back down. What can I do? Should we go to the Doctor?"

(laying down) "mmmmmmm"

"Babe?"

"mmmmm"..."Get me my laptop and blackberry - I need to check into work and cancel some stuff."

(10 minutes later - all work notices done)

"Babe?"

"mmmmm"

"I'm gonna take a shower...ok?"

"mmmmmm"

(10 minutes later)

"Babe?"

"mmmmm"

"I want to take you to the Doctor or ER - you pick"

"mmm"..."I just want to lay here"..."you can take me tonight if I don't feel better"

"Um, no, we should go now."

"mumble mumble mumble" (I believe I heard bitch in there somewhere)

"What would you do if it were me?"

"grumble grumble - I would do what YOU want to do. I ALWAYS do what YOU want to do."

pause

"So I guess we're going huh?"

"Yes."

End result.
Diagnosis: Peripheral vertigo from fluid in the ear.
Treatment: travel sickness meds and antihistamines
Direction: NO DRIVING. STAY STILL.
Followup: See a neurologist and they will recommend exercises.
Current Status: Patient is drugged and dozing on couch while I rock out on i-tunes and work on the computer.

Sidenote: Patient is happy to have A's Mom's favorite companion - Maggie Dog - visiting and sleeping at his feet (I think this is winning him over to getting another pet). Nothing like the comfort of a sweet and fuzzy animal when you don't feel well.