And my cats?

They have flees. Actually, I think I have more bites than them. They barely seem to notice.

The vet thinks that we caught them early. She gave them medicine and sent me home with some carpet spray. And now I am very aware of the itchy bumps on my ankles.

I blame the sketchy downtown petstore.

Pet Store Conversation

Actually, it's a feed store downtown, but they mostly sell pet stuff.

I stopped by on Saturday because they have cat trees, and I have been wanting to get one for the cats. I'm tired of Ivan climbing the kitchen cabinets so that he can hangout in the highest point in my apartment.

Anyway, I picked up some cat food and whatnot, I asked the stoner at the checkout counter if they had a delivery service. The pet trees are huge and while one *might* fit in my car (but probably not), I wouldn't be able to get it up my stairs on my own.... so I thought I'd ask.

This is what happened.

Me: Do y'all deliver?
Stoned Check-out Guy: No, we don't. Sorry.
Me: That's too bad, I've been wanting to get a cat tree but it won't fit in my car, plus I can't get it up my stairs on my own.
SCG: Well, maybe if you knew someone with a truck....
Me: pause I don't know anyone with a truck. If I did, I wouldn't be asking if you delivered.
SCG: Well, we always have them, so if you ever meet anyone with a truck you can get one.
Me: pause...pause Yeah, okay.

This when I wanted to ask: Are you high? But decided it would be better for me to just leave.

Kittens Become Cats

One year ago yesterday, I picked up two little black kittens at the Humane Society. That also means that one year ago Friday I lost Alexsi.

I went to the Humane Society intending to get two cats, not kittens, cats. I wanted cats about a year old, because I didn't want to deal with kitten stage. When I go there, I actually settled on a different cat: An eight-month old ragdoll, but I didn't. The ragdoll, while adorable couldn't be with another cat (and I was set on two) and had some poop issues. There was a Russian Blue, who at eight months old was bigger than most adult cats. And a tabby about the same age.... But no one was sure they would get along. There was a pair of older cats that were bonded. I really hated not taking them because they were adults, but while I didn't want teeny kittens, I didn't want grown cats. While I know they would have more years in front of them, having just lost two cats, I wanted and needed younger cats.

Because I wanted two, I was told the best thing to do would be to get two from the piles of kittens because they all liked each other. Oh, and I wanted boys.

It was the day after Thanksgiving and the Humane Society was having a "Black Friday" special. Adopt any cat with black on them for $25. I had initially noticed a block and black tabby, but the Human Society person pulled out two cats, checked them both and said: "Two boys." She also refereed to one of them as "the crazy one." We took them into one of the little consult rooms where they were more interested in playing with each other than anything else. And despite them being nothing like what I wanted (other than boys), I took them. I named then Boris and Ivan. Ivan was "the crazy one." They were both eight weeks old and full of energy.

Day 1. After checking the place out, they settled on the couch. Boris (left) and Ivan (right).

And then they got sick. Ivan had goopy eyes when I took him home so I expected him to develop an upper respiratory infection. And then the other one did. I got them on Friday and by Sunday I had them in the Emergency Vet (where they were treated by the same vet who I saw on Wednesday with Alexsi) because Boris was breathing so hard he was wheezing. A few weeks later I had them at the vet again to treat ringworm. All of this meant giving two kittens two different types of medicine twice a day. Oh, and then they had intestinal parasites. Medicine number three.

After two months and one round of URI and parasite meds and two rounds of tuna-flavored ringworm medicine, they were healthy.

Ivan (left) and Boris (right). One year later. 

They've grown into great cats. They're not as needy as Sasha was. They are more cat-like, meaning that they like to curl up next to me on the couch, but they aren't big lap cats and neither one of them likes to be picked up. Boris, the bigger of the two, is overly skittish, but he is the first to curl up next to me when I sit on the couch. Despite being skittish, he's the hunter of the two. He will pick up a toy, throw it across the room and chase after it. He drags around a specific toy, it's a puffball on a long thin metal cord. That's all he does--he just drags it from room to room. Every so often he'll hold the puffball in his mouth and chase the end of the cord. When he was a kitten he would leap through the air and catch any toy I threw in midair--and then carry it around while growling. He's stopped growling and he is too big to leap that high in the air, but he's still a hunter. 

Ivan is still "the crazy one." And he was crazy, but he has grown into a very inquisitive cats. Highly active, he is a fast and agile cat. He hates to be picked up, yet he is the one that will follow me from room to room and curl up on my feet regardless of what I am doing. Ivan rarely meows like a normal cat, instead he shakes his head while making a weird squeaky noise--or he does a half meow that ends in a strange gurgley sound. When he does meow like a normal cat it's because he wants something. Like food. 

They're my cats. And they're awesome. And I'm gad the Human Society volunteer pulled them out of the pile of kittens and said, "Here, two boys."

Things I've been doing/thinking

• I'm still unpacking. Those last four boxes are mocking me. 

• I attended the wedding of some friends. In August. It was the same weekend I moved and I had decided I wasn't going to go. But after some shuffling of hotel rooms, I went. I'm glad I did. It was small and low-key and a really nice get away. A saw some people I have known (via email) for years but never met. And I got to see my good friend K marry the love of his life. After seeing him go through a very nasty divorce ten years ago, it was nice to see the other side. 

• I met my above-mentioned friend's ex-wife. Since I always swore that if I ever met her she would find one of my Doc Martens planted squarely in her ass, my friend found it interesting that I spent so long talking to her. She is very personable and I liked her (new) husband. But what my friend didn't know was that in my head I ended every sentence I said to his ex with, "...you fucking bitch."
• I went back to my Old Stomping Grounds for the second time in six months. I went to homecoming. After going back for Bruce's memorial, I hadn't planned on going back again this year. But after cashing in some frequent flier miles, I got a fairly cheap ticket. I graduated from college 20 years ago... It seemed like a good time to go back.

• I wish I could say it was a massive drink-fest, but it wasn't. We sat around a friend's living room, talking, drinking some, laughing, and just being. Three of us slept on couches and air mattresses in the living room. We giggled like 13 year olds. It was pretty great. 

• I turned in my tenure file. 

• Yes, after almost ten years and two different universities, I finally applied for tenure. 

• I can't even begin to describe the relief. 

• I finally became a member of our local art theatre. I've seen some good films.
• In the Fog. I didn't like it at first. I grew frustrated by the artiness of it. But I couldn't stop thinking about it. My opinion of it has changed. It's haunting
• The Grandmaster. Also, I had an initial reaction to the close-up shots of water dripping off hats, railing and whatever else. But I got into it. 
• Big Star: Nothing to Can Hurt Me. After seeing Big Star in Chicago, I figured I should see this. I have to admit, I thought it dragged in places, but I still liked it. 
• Enough Said. I adored this. It was delightful. And lovely. And wonderful. It was bittersweet since it was James Gandolfini's last film and he was great. I liked Julia Louis Dryfus's character because she was incredibly flawed, yet she always meant well.
• Muscle Shoals. A documentary about the Muscle Shoals sound. Lots of good music. The guy in front of us seemed to be mad we (and others) were tapping our feet. He eventually left in a huff (after telling a friend to stop tapping her feet). Listen, jackass, it's a documentary about R&B music. If you aren't tapping your feet, you're dead. Also: Every time Keith Richards spoke, the entire theatre giggled because, seriously, how is he still alive?

• One afternoon while taking the garbage out, I had one simple thought: I really like living here. I belong here.