Tigger

It can be frightening, really, if one stops to think about it for a moment about how brief a pet’s life is when compared to the span of a human’s life time. When I adopted Tigger from Hubby’s mom back before he was hubby the thought never entered my mind that she wasn’t always going to be there with me. As years wore on and my life’s circumstances changed she was always right there, a static and predictable aspect of my home life. It seemed though, that there was always room for more love in my life. Anyone who knows me will agree that I’m an un abashed animal lover and if I could I would open my home to many more than I currently have. Which is why when Hubby and I moved in to a house we adopted a dog, and then six months later another cat.

I feel a bit guilty, in retrospect, for being selfish and bringing more animals into our home, but at the time I couldn’t have known how Tigger would react. With the two other animals in the picture and vying for Hubby and my affections Tigger became more reclusive choosing to spend her time alone in the sleeping in the bay window or on the back of the couch in the other room rather than in my lap or on the cushion next to me. We joked that she was just becoming a crabby old lady cat, but I made sure that her spot next to me was available at night, and most times she took it.

A month ago Tigger started throwing up every two hours or so and acting very lethargic. It wasn’t like her at all, and it worried me. Hubby and I drove out to the emergency vet hoping it was something easily cared for. After two hours and inconclusive x-rays we drove home with her still sick and instructions of hopefully care for her to make her better.

The next day Hubby came home for lunch to check on her to discover that she was still throwing up regularly. He took her back to the emergency vet to have blood tests done. Her blood pressure was so low they had difficulty drawing her blood, but what little they did get confirmed that she had developed feline diabetes and her body was essentially shutting down. I was at work, crying my eyes out trying to decide what to do. She was my baby, she had always been there for me even if she didn’t know why, and here I had put her life in question because I wasn’t paying attention. Maybe that’s just my guilty conscience talking.

In the end my amazing boss drove me to the emergency vet so I could be there with Tigger and Hubby and make the decisions necessary. Ultimately, it came down to five days in the veterinary ICU and a lifetime of two insulin shots a day for her or end her suffering. If money hadn’t been a factor I would have done anything possible to make her healthy again. But, as it is with everything in life there are no guarantees. And as I held her, and looked down at her I asked her what she wanted. Unquestioningly, I know she wanted us to let her go. So, we did.

Ultimately, she lived a good eleven years and was a very happy spoiled cat for most of them. I know we made the right choice to let her go because it was what she wanted. I still miss her terribly, but I know she’s in a better place now.

Holly Hobby

I often wonder if I have too many hobbies. When I was younger just about any craft that you put in front of me I would instantly become infatuated with. Often my mom would take me to Michael’s and we would wander the isles and I would say, like most children, “Oh Mom, can you get that for me?” She would take one look at the drawstring bag, or the beaded necklace, or piece of doll house furniture and respond “You could make that.” Now at this point in my life, fifteen or more years later, I don’t know if she was saying that as a way to get me to stop asking her for something or if she honestly believed that I could make everything I wanted. To this day, I still hear those words ringing in my ears when I go shopping.

I explored many, many crafts in my youth including: sewing and quilting, scrapbooking, cooking, baking, making miniatures for my dollhouse, flower arranging, writing, drawing, painting, collage, decoupage, gardening, and beading or jewelry making. I still practice a few of these hobbies to this day, and I may have picked up some new ones, and part of me is thankful for my Mom’s voice ringing out that I could make anything I wanted.

Now when I walk through a craft store my mind reels with all of the things I could make - oh that charm would look great on a beaded necklace, oh that fabric would make a nice skirt, etc. Truly, it’s a dangerous thing for me to walk in to a craft store unattended. I am glad though, that I have learned the importance of the reality check, because really I could make all of those things I want given the time and money. However, seeing as I have a full time job with an hour commute each way and a husband with three pets that don’t take too well to me ignoring them for long periods of time.

So I’m left with a mere few choices for my creative habits, but that’s okay with me. It is far less expensive, far less time consuming, and far less crazy making if I limit myself to the number of crafts I do. On the other hand, I can’t limit myself too much or I find myself crying out inside for a creative outlet. As it is with all things, hobbies come down to a balancing act.

I Believe It Is Called a Menagerie

I have always been a lover of animals. My mom told me once before I moved out of her house that she had had a nightmare that she came to visit adult me and had to literally step over animals no matter where she went. I promised her at that time that it would never be that bad. While I was growing up my family always had just one dog. This is all well and good because, looking back, that one dog didn’t get nearly the attention and love he deserved. I was always pestering my parents for more animals, and they thought for some reason that giving me fish would do the trick. Not so much.

When I graduated from college and moved out on my own I adopted a cat from my now husband’s mother, who couldn’t afford to keep all three of hers. My cat, Tigger, has been my steadfast pal through four moves in as many years, and I think quite content to be the only creature in the house. When hubby and I moved into our own home this January we started to contemplate adding to our little family, but not in the same way most newlyweds do. We wanted a dog. So at the end of March we adopted Cleo in to our life. Cleo is a great dog, very low key, and we joke that she is more cat-like than dog-like, and on top of that could care less about Tigger. As a result of Cleo’s addition to the family, Tigger hid out in the one room Cleo wasn’t able to go in to only making brief ventures out to go to the litter box and after a month or so to come back to sleeping with me. It took at least four full months before Tigger would venture out regularly to make her patented comments on things or occasionally to curl up on my lap while I’m watching TV. I honestly felt bad for her, and there were times when I would seek her out in her hiding spot to pet her that it looked as if she truly missed the attention.

Hubby decided for an anniversary gift he would take me to a shelter and get me a kitten. For the week prior to our journey to visit with kittys needing a good, loving home, I struggled. On the one hand Tigger had taken this long to adjust to having Cleo in the house, how long would it take for her to adjust to a third animal? On the other hand was the kitten who I knew would likely adjust immediately to the living situation and because it was the same species likely make it easier for Tigger to adjust because she’d lived with other cats before. On yet another hand (three hands, creepy), Tigger might like having a kitten to boss around. I came to terms with the whole situation by the time we hopped in the car to go to the shelter. Really I felt like I was getting a friend for her as much as anything else.

Enter Elwood. Elwood is a wiry five month old tuxedo kitten that had called to me from the pages of PetFinder.com for weeks. The shelter suggested we get a young kitten and a boy to make it easier on Tigger. I can tell from their interaction now that Elwood has been with us for over a week that Tigger still doesn’t like it – but accepts it more readily than she did the dog. She knows she can, and will, put Elwood in his place when necessary. Like last night. Tigger was happily laying with me in bed and in blast Elwood and as he flies on to the bed (because we all know kittens don’t actually walk) he discovered that Tigger was where he wanted to be. But Tigger, quickly discerning the situation and not having had a good snuggle in a while put her ears back and gave a low growl. Elwood hopped back a bit and went to lay down next to my husband. Content, Tigger went back to purring. I think Tigger is okay with the situation.

So our house is up to three animals, and I don’t think we will be adding any more any time soon. That will probably make my mom very happy.