I had a cat. Her name was Phyllis.
I don’t quite know how to say this, but I am *not* a cat person. In fact, I get great joy out of chasing a cat around while saying, “kitty kitty kitty kitty…” in a very annoying Elmira off of TinyTunes kind of way. I understand dogs, I get them. I can communicate with them and I understand pack mentality. Cats? not a clue. I’ve often had them; we just never clicked. Then I got a Phyllis. She came from the animal shelter and was delivered by a friend of mine who worked there at the time. They had spayed her and that caused her to be all shaved from the waist down. What no-one counted on was that when she was stressed out she dropped hair like a porcupine throws quills. So, before she ever came into my house the little black cat was, well, nekkid on the whole bottom of her body. From the top–fuzzy black kitten. From the bottom–OMG WHAT IS IT?!?! KILL IT WITH FIRE. She was a hideous package of ugly from her snaggle vampire-looking teeth to her nekkid underbelly.
I was instantly in love. 🙂 She took a much longer time to decide she loved me. In fact, even when she slept on my pillow every night she pretty much informed me with many a’ disdainful glare that although she had chosen me as her person I was not to take her for granted and needed to remember she could have done better.
This cat made me laugh every day of her life, which sadly lasted only one year and ended yesterday, April 4, 2012. I held her as the vet injected the disturbingly pink fluid of euthanasia. Why? Because people don’t spay or neuter their animals and cats procreate like crazy and disease runs rampant. Then some unfortunate stray with Feline Leukemia Virus infected Phyllis despite her being vaccinated (it happens) during one of the many random turf wars fought by cats defending or gaining territory. Phyllis’ health has been a struggle for the past four months including infections, non-healing wounds, and respiratory problems. She continued to decline and after many trips to the vet for fluids, vitamins, and antibiotics we finally tested her for FeLV. Since she was vaccinated it had been considered unlikely and therefore wasn’t tested for during her initial treatments. She was positive. She was sick, not getting any better, and I had to make the shitty decision to kill my cat. The only cat with whom I had bonded. The cat I loved.
My Phyllis, the creepy adorable fearless hell monster of my heart.
Rest in Peace Pretty Girl; you were loved by many.
I have a Herbert. He is a brindled puppy who is currently 12 weeks old and 20.2lbs. His mother was an approximately 30lb staffordshire bull terrier and based upon Herbert’s paws his father may have been some form of elephant. For anyone interested in what a Herbert looks like, please enjoy his photos below:
…the inaugural post. During a particularly enchanted evening while I was telling work stories someone at the table told me I should write a book. This caused me to snuffle-snort with laughter and say, “what the heck would I say?” to which everyone at the table said, “what you just said.”
So, the bug was planted…time went on (approximately 2 weeks) and then I found out I was to become unemployed within 90 days. Well, crap. As everyone prepares this place to close I keep thinking about this “book” and what I could teach people as well as how am I going to remember all of the wonderful things, wonderful people, horrible things, and horrible people I have spent so much of my life and time with?
Well, I knew I was going to have to write. I already have 2 blogs (yes, I am aware of how dorky that sounds), I have one smutty and one not so smutty. There are great posts in both of those blogs–but also a bunch of crap. Squished Together is an attempt to make one blog out of two…a healthy mix of who I am. I have much copying and pasting to do as well as a whole lotta editing. Wish me luck and enjoy reading.