autographedcat

Nearly fifteen years ago, shortly after our apartment burned down and we had moved into a townhouse in Norcross, our neighbor asked a_blue_moon_cat and I if we'd be willing to adopt a couple of kittens. She'd rescued the mother from the parking lot of her workplace, and she had two that she'd been unable to find homes for. We already had two cats at the time, but the kittens were adorable, and we decided to take them on. We named them Tarrant and Dayna, continuing the Blake's Seven theme our other two cats shared.

When a_blue_moon_cat and I split up a few years later, she kept all four cats, but a couple of years after that asked me if I'd take one of them, as she was about to move and didn't think she could find a rental that would let her bring in four cats. We agreed to take Dayna.

Dayna was a neurotic cat even by feline standards. Wild-eyed and curious, she loved sounds, and would frequently rattle blinds or scratch the sides of boxes just to hear the sound they made. She was convinced the knowledge of mankind could be hers if only she could eat enough magazines, and any periodical left within her grasp soon looked like it had been attacked by a confetti punch.

She was often shy about attention, but she always liked being near people, if not quite within arms reach. In recent years, and especially since our other cat Jenna passed away she'd become much friendlier, and spent many a night curled up between kitanzi and me while we watched television, and she slept many nights on the bed with us, purring contently to be near.

As we prepared to make the move to Seattle, the question of how best to move Dayna was discussed. She had become older and frailer as her years advanced, and she'd lost some weight recently which concerned us. We took her to the Cat Clinic in Roswell, which had been her vets her entire life, and they checked her over and found some early kidney disease, but otherwise found her to be in good health for a cat her age. They gave her some meds to help with that and to clear up a small infection, and said she should be fine. As we got closer to Thanksgiving, I again raised concern to the vet, and they even did an ultrasound to rule out any early cancers. The vet cleared her for travel, saying our only concern was finding something she liked to eat to get her up to a healthier weight.

She flew back to Seattle with runnerwolf, who would take good care of her and help get her settled into our new home. But it quickly became obvious that she was continuing to fade. Tonight, Beth called me, a couple of hours ago, and said "I don't think she's going to last much longer." We discussed her condition, and I asked her to put the phone down where Dayna could hear me. I said "Dayna....we love you. If you need to go, it's okay. We understand." Beth says that when I spoke to her, she flicked her ears a couple of times, and a few moments later peacefully slipped away.

In her last days, as in all her life, she was pampered and loved by those around her. She had a long and full life, and in the end her suffering was minimal. I wasn't ready for this, and I will miss her more than I have any words for...she's been a constant presence in my life for 15 years, and you are never really prepared to say goodbye.

Farewell, Dayna-cat. I love you, always.

As we were out driving on an errand this morning, we got a call from our vet, and he said three words that none of us (him included) expected to hear him say:

It's not cancer.

Whatever was bothering Jenna appears to been some sort of inflammatory disease or condition, but the biopsy came back clean. And since the biopsy was taken during the surgery, he feels completely confident that the sample he took was from the most abnormal looking section of the bowel.

We're continuing to treat her for the inflammation and the thyroid, and she needs to put some weight back on, but whatever else she has, it's not the lymphoma Dr. Ray was nearly certain she had.

(There's other big news from today, but that's another post...)

Well, she came through the surgery with flying colours, and was awake and eating late this afternoon. They're keeping her overnight, but we should be able to bring her home tomorrow.

The surgeon said there was no mass as was suggested on the ultrasound, though the colon was thickened and abnormal, and there are signs of lymphoma. We'll know more when they get the biopsy back. At any rate, there are hopeful signs at this stage.

Thank you all for your kind wishes and support. It means a lot to all of us.

This morning, our cat Dayna (seen in my userpic) was being very annoying. kitanzi finally got fed up and this conversation ensued:

kitanzi: Dayna, stop it. You're obnoxious!
autographedcat: And disliked.
kitanzi: You know that's true.
autographedcat: Yes, I do.
kitanzi: And apparently historical.

Dear lord, our cat is the reincarnation of John Adams.

I have concluded that Jenna is insane.

I reported earlier about Jenna's adventures with the fireplace. After finally giving her a bath and a couple of weeks of self-cleaning and shedding, she was starting to look almost normal again.

So, of course, I came home today to find that she had gotten into the fireplace again and was as grey as before, if not more. Of course, this time I had the necessary stuff on hand, so I got undressed and, with a helping hand from telynor's son, G., we gave the poor dear another bath.

She's hiding under the bed and refusing to talk to me now. I don't know when she'll ever be white again. And this weekend, I have to go and spend some time figuring out how to close off the fireplace.

Meanwhile, the cat is insane.

Jenna continues to settle in. She still spends a large portion of the time under the bed, but is starting to come out more and more. Dayna still hasn't quite gotten used to the idea, but now MOSTLY just glares at her, and is hissing less. Last night, they even spent some time on the same bed together.

( Picture of Dayna and Jenna )

I was really hoping this was the final acceptance, but alas, this morning Dayna pounced on her and chased her from the room. Two steps forward, one step back.

Jenna has gotten remarkably good at finding places to hide. Last night I couldn't find her again when coming home, but eventually found her inside the couch. (We have a double recliner love seat that was given to us by weirdsister's ex-husband before he moved away). If she keeps it up, I may yet have that nervous breakdown. :)

I got home from work today and promptly checked the answering machine. There was a message from the Cat Clinic asking how the new kitty was doing, and inviting me to call back. I made a note to myself to call back tomorrow, since it was after hours by that point, and went to actually see how Jenna was.

And I couldn't find her. Anywhere.

Now, Jenna's currently spending most of her time confined to the front part of the house, to allow her and Dayna to settle into each other's company gradually. So it's not as if there were copious places for her to hide, and I already knew where most of her favourite places were. And she wasn't in any of them.

So I went and looked in the bedroom area. Again, no Jenna.

At this point, I freaked out slightly, tearing through the house looking in the most implausible places. I mean, opening cabinets. Checking in the furnace closet (a door which is almost never opened). I even went outside and glanced around... having her get out would have been my greatest fear.

So, just about the time I'm about to become completely hysterical, I check under the bed in the bedroom for the fifth time. And for the first time, notice her, all the way back against the wall, her white fur blending perfectly with the wall. I pulled her out and hugged her tightly, a transgression for which I'm still not sure she's forgiven me for. :) But all is well, and she's just fine.

Our cat Dayna has always been a bit high strung and neurotic, but she had been getting increasingly clingy and needy with her requests for attention. We finally decided that she's probably lonely from not having other cats around (something she had for the first five years of her life). So Saturday morning, kitanzi and I went down to The Cat Clinic of Roswell to see what they had available for adoption.

( Close scruitiny and many adorable animals... )

First of all, happy birthday to the sublime catsittingstill on her natal anniversary. I'm still entirely convinced that Cat is not strictly human, but somehow a Tolkien elf who never passed into the West, but at any rate, we're damn glad to have her around.

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I adore Mark Morford. Sometimes he goes a bit over the top, but i love the sensibility that anchors his work. I especially liked column today. I could have written the following about myself:

"I don't watch NASCAR or "WWE Raw" or "The Man Show." I don't read a lot of Maxim or ESPN Magazine or Sporting News nor frequent Gold's Gym with a cadre of thick muscled dudes named Rick or Tony who stand over me and spot my bench presses with a lot of c'mon dude you can do it pump one more rep yeah yeah yeah, just before we all high five and go out for pizza and beer and talk about SportsCenter and the crazy shopping habits/frustrating fellatio inhibitions of our wives.

I do not spend endless hours of every weekend out in the garage rebuilding my rusty old '67 'Stang. I do not grill giant slabs of beef ribs on the Weber every night. I do not reshingle the house or wear khaki Dockers or pound pitchers of Bud Light at O'Shaunessey's during the Final Four. Maybe I should. But I don't.

In fact, I engage in few stereotypical manly guy things largely because I live in the City and enjoy a wickedly urban and decidedly lubricious lifestyle, and tend to find many traditionally "guy" activities to be sort of unfulfilling and uninteresting and occasionally sort of dorky and faux macho and sadly devoid of divine sensuality and intellectual mystery and really good booze. But whatever. That's just me."

The truth is, I've never been entirely comfortable with "guy things". Most of my close personal friends are female. I enjoy "chick flicks". I cry over sentimental things. I find most of the concerns of the "average male" to be banal. I often wonder if there wasn't some sort of mixup in the Souls Routing department, and somewhere out there is a very tomboyish girl who enjoys auto repair and football who was supposed to end up in this body. Something to think over.

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Dayna is definitely feeling much better this morning, and back to her old friendly self. And I got a voice mail from the vet on her blood work from last week, confirming that she's negative for FIV and feline leukemia. This doesn't remotely surprise me, since she's never been outside a day in her life, but it's still reassuring to know her health is in top shape.

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Rejoined the Columbia House DVD club for another set of nearly free DVDs (seven for the price of two, essentially). Picked up Willy Wonka And the Chocolate Factory, Harold and Maude, Sense and Sensibility, The Englisman Who Went Up A Hill But Came Down a Mountain, Schoolhouse Rock, Forrest Gump, and the amusing Mel Gibson/Helen Hunt film What Women Want. Also picked up the Matthew Broderick remake of The Music Man, because, let's face it, I'm curious. It takes a lot of guts to step into a part that is so firmly and universally associated with one actor, in this case the late, great Robert Preston. I admit that Harold Hill is a part I've always wanted to do on stage myself. And of course, I got Pirates of the Caribbean because it rocks and stuff.

We didn't actually watch any of these last night, opting for The Daily Show and the last part of the sex in the 20th century documentary that was stacked up on the TiVo. TiVo good. I like the TiVo.

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Almost no one wants to ask me questions? The poll is still open!