Ugly Toys, Happy Boy

Before having a baby I swore I would never let my house get taken over by all those ugly, bright plastic toys that seem to clutter up the living rooms of otherwise decorating-savvy young parents. I was unable to keep my promise to myself though. It started before he was born with the Fisher Price Aquarium swing, given to him by his grandparents. It is truly hideous, but he loved it from the start and it was a convenient place to set him down so it ended up right in the middle of our living room. The latest addition - his ExerSaucer. It's so garish it makes the swing look tasteful, but having a place where he can safely play by himself makes uglying up my house totally worth it. He goes absolutely nuts over the blue elephant; I think once he gets teeth that thing is going to be chewed to pieces. So I guess my point here is that life is all about change and compromise, and one of the compromises of parenthood is having ugly toys in your living room.

For Walker

It's been a rough couple of days. Yesterday morning my cat Walker suddenly and unexpectedly died. He was only a year old and apparently in excellent health. I'd had a long night with Sawyer so I stayed home from church by myself to try and get some rest. Walker had been playful and frisky all morning, attacking my feet as usual and playing with his favorite toy. He followed me upstairs when I went to go lie down. As soon as I had crawled into bed I heard Walker in my closet, meowing very low and quiet. I called him and he didn't answer me or come so I knew something was wrong. I jumped up and ran to the closet where I found him collapsed on the floor, not breathing and with no pulse. For several minutes I tried to resuscitate him, but he was already gone.

Today I drove out to the state lab to have a necropsy performed. The vet who did the examination couldn't find anything wrong, apart from him being a little on the heavy side (I'm sure all that butter was to blame for that). We'll get the lab results back in a couple of weeks but for the moment his sudden passing is a complete mystery.

I miss him so much. We got him right before starting IVF and I totally believe that I owe my ability to deal emotionally with that whole process in large part to him. The day after transfer when I was on bedrest he spent the whole time cuddled up next to me in bed. He had such a fun, quirky personality. I didn't realize before how involved he was in my daily routine, but now that he's gone I notice a huge absence. He would be underfoot while I cooked, he curled up on the side of the tub when I read in the bath, every time I went up or downstairs he would run next to me (several times I nearly fell down the stairs because of him), and he was always there by the door to greet me when I would come home after being out. At night when my foot dangled over the edge of the bed he would sneak up on it and attack. I would yell and he'd scramble off, highly pleased with himself. Funny how now I miss that.

I had a conversation with a friend a while back who had called me shortly after her dog had died. I tried to console her by saying that she would see her dog again in the next life. She immediately disagreed with me and said that her pastor had told her that there are no animals in heaven. I feel intuitively that this can't be right. Why would God create such a variety of life just to have it all cease to exist? Isn't everything God does eternal? When I later went to the scriptures I was comforted to find that Doctrine and Covenants 77 backs me up on this.

2: in...heaven, the paradise of God, the happiness of man, and of beasts, and of creeping things, and of the fowls of the air; that which is spiritual being in the likeness of that which is temporal; and that which is temporal in the likeness of that which is spiritual; the spirit of man in the likeness of his person, as also the spirit of the beast, and every other creature which God has created.

Following verses go on to describe resurrected creatures living "in the enjoyment of their eternal felicity" and "full of knowledge" with "power to move, to act." I doubt it's part of our official doctrine, but I believe in my heart that the relationships we form in this life with our pets will continue in the next. And I believe that includes my Walker. I hope when I pass over to the other side that he's one of the first waiting to greet me, just like he used to wait by the door for me to get home every day.

I'll be seeing you, my friend.

He's Put On a Few

About a week ago Safeway was having a sale on Thomas bagels where if you bought one bag you got two free. Eric and I both love bagels and I'm a sucker for a good deal, so naturally I stocked up. E had one for breakfast with butter and jam one day and decided to leave a stick of butter on a plate out on the counter so the next time he wanted butter for his bagel it would be nice and soft and spreadable. Throughout the week I noticed the butter quickly disappearing. "Wow," I thought, "Eric's really on a bagels-with-butter kick." I'm a cream cheese freak myself so I wasn't using any of it. What struck me as odd, besides how fast it was going, is that it was being cut from the top instead of the ends. I had never noticed my husband's butter spreading habits before, so I figured it must just be his own quirky way of doing things.

Fast forward to Friday evening as Eric and I were eating dinner. We heard our cat Walker jumping up on the kitchen counter. He's not allowed up there and knows it but we've been completely ineffectual in training him not to jump up. I went into the kitchen, but by the time I got there he had jumped down and run into the basement. E came in behind me armed with the spray bottle, looked at the counter and a got a weird look on his face. The butter was completely gone and the plate was licked clean. "Honey?" he said. "Have you been eating the butter?" I told him no, I thought he had. He hadn't used it all week since that first bagel. He didn't want to say anything to me about it because I'm so sensitive about gaining pregnancy weight and he didn't want to hurt my feelings by implying that he was concerned that I was eating large amounts of butter on a daily basis.

No wonder the cat has been looking a bit chunky.

From Numbnuts to Nonuts

It's been a traumatic week for our poor cat Walker. Last Monday we had him neutered. He's nine months old and definitely showing signs of kitty puberty, like becoming more aggressive, packing on lots of muscle, and most unpleasantly, spraying in the basement (mostly on Eric's stuff - I'm sure there's something territorial about that.) He did fine during the procedure, but then afterwards he developed a fever and our vet was concerned. She ran all kinds of tests for all kinds of scary illnesses, all of which came back fine. She suggested that we leave him at the hospital overnight so they could give him fluids and antibiotics and monitor him to make sure he didn't have an infection or anything. The next day he wasn't doing any better, so that afternoon we decided that I should bring him home and see how he'd do there. Being at the animal hospital freaked him out to the point that he didn't eat, drink, or use the litter box the entire time he was there. It had been over 24 hours, and considering that they had been pumping him full of fluids, that's an awfully long time to hold it in. He must have been terrified. He was so scared when I picked him up that he didn't even seem to recognize me until he was home and out of his carrier. Within the first 20 minutes we were home he peed 4 times. A few hours later he was acting like himself again, aside from a little soreness that made him walk like a cute little bowlegged cowboy. So now I know not to board him there during our vacation this summer; being there for a week might kill him.

My little guy's pretty much completely healed now, and he seems a lot happier than he did before the surgery. I guess less testosterone=less frustration from wanting to go find a little girl kitty and not being allowed outside. Eric has had to stop calling him "Numbnuts", his nickname of choice, and instead refers to him as "Nonuts", which is presently much more accurate.

Kitty Discipline

Since I'm not working right now and spend most of my time at home, my cat Walker has become my best buddy. He keeps me company while I'm cooking, cleaning, paying bills, chatting online, watching Dr. Phil, and all the other highly intellectually stimulating activities that comprise the day of a stay-at-home-almost-mom. Although he's not quite as good at conversation as a human companion would be, he does an excellent job of keeping me company. He's normally extremely affectionate and friendly, despite common belief about cats.

Lately, however, he's developing a problem. He's about 4 months old now, and I suspect he's beginning to go through kitty puberty, because he's suddenly become very aggressive. He attacks my hands, scratches them, and bites them so that every surface of my arms is covered in cute little kitten-made puncture wounds. The worst is at around 7:00 a.m. when I'm in that blissful state between sleep and waking and I suddenly feel ten kitten claws digging viciously into my arm.

I'm not very experienced with cats, so I'm mostly clueless about how to train them. I've tried flicking him on the nose, picking him up and dropping him on the floor, yelling "NO!", and even emitting an odd high-pitched scream that makes Eric jump out of his skin. None of these measures does anything to deter the little 4 pound ball of fluff from trying to kill me. In fact, he takes them all as a challenge which he is more than ready to meet. "You like that?" his eyes say. "Well here's some more!"

Yesterday I had a stroke of genius, which experienced cat people will scoff at because they all would have thought of it weeks ago. I keep a spray bottle filled with water near me, and when he attacks I just give him a squirt. It works like a charm. He hates that stream of water with intensity. I'm amazed that he would rather be smacked and yelled at than have a little bit of water hit his fur. And he's definitely learning. Now I don't even have to squirt him; all I have to do is show him the bottle and he's off like a shot. I'm hopeful that soon I'll have my loveable kitten back.

And getting his testicles snipped off will probably help too.

P.S. Thanks so much to everyone for your kind thoughts after my last post. It helps to have your support and to know that my feelings are valid. Love you guys!

Ten Reasons Why I Love My Cat

1) He wakes me up every morning at 4:00 by sitting on my neck and purring loudly. I pet him, and he sticks his head between my boobs and falls asleep. It's our little ritual.
2) While I'm cooking he sits at my feet and talks to me - literally. "Walker, how was your day?" "Mrew." "I can't believe it's already September, didn't the summer just fly by?" "Mrew." "Here, do you want a piece of chicken?" "MREOW!"
3) He falls asleep in my arms with his belly up and his head hanging back. Holy cuteness.
4) He's possessive of me and jealous of Al. Once when we were cuddling on the couch Eric turned to me and said, "Chels, look at Walker!" He was crouched in a dark corner, glaring at us with pure malice in his eyes, which on a 3 month old kitten is actually kind of cute.
5) Like most kittens, he has a Jekyl and Hyde personality: one second he'll be tearing across the floor chasing his rubber ball, and the next he'll collapse on a newspaper and instantly be fast asleep. Ten minutes later, he's up and going again.
6) He sleeps on the side of the tub while I'm reading in the bath. Once in a while he climbs behind me and perches on my shoulder and watches the pages turn, like he's reading along with me.
7) He's friendly with everyone, even people and animals he doesn't know. He even likes the vet.
8) He thinks I'm his mom, probably because we got him so young. He trusts me so much that it makes me feel terrible when I inflict baths on him and he gives me that betrayed look: "Why would you do this to me? Why?" Even so, minutes later he's already forgiven me.
9) He purrs every time I pick him up, even if 5 seconds later he's struggling to get down.
10) He's been my little buddy through this whole IVF process. He tolerates my tiredness and my moodiness in a way no human ever could, and having him curled up on my lap takes my mind off of all the stress and pain I've experienced.