What is the world record for days without sleep?

I finally handed in my paper, and I am more or less done. I have a few more things to do next week, and then classes are over.

Thank god.

I *was* going to celebrate by getting a death-on-a-stick sub, but D'Angelo's was out of pastrami (bastards), so I stuck with their lobster bisque, which in my pedestrian opinion is every bit as good as Legal's.

Romeo is doing ok; he is still not really eating, and Dr Vet has changed his mind and is concerned about it. I dropped him off this morning before I went in to Eviljob, and Dr Vet gave him a Valium injection, after which Romeo ate a little bit. He sent me home with some pill that starts with a C (it is in the other room; I will check later, if anyone desperately wants to know) that I have to give him half of when I give him the Buprenex that he is now on instead of the morphine that Dr Vet would not let me take home to dose him with (but did give me an entire week’s worth of Buprenex today, all in syringes…I do not quite follow the logic, because I will be bringing him back to stay all day for probably all next week, but ok; Romeo looks better on Buprinex anyway; when I would pick him up, he looked half-dead and slept a lot. He still sleeps a lot, but at least he does not *look* half-dead. And he remembers to purr. Maybe the extra is for in case he crashes? I wish people would just tell me these things and not wait for me to deduce them if that is the case, ‘cos that just occurred to me). But Rome cannot have IM Valium with the Buprenex (I may be misremembering this, ‘cos I was talking to Dr Vet and also trying to do five different things at Eviljob today; there was *some* reason I cannot give Rome a Valium injection myself at home) I suggested that Rome should share my Valium prescription since I only use mine when I fly, but apparently shots work better than pills. I dunno. He will lick a little a/d and then lose interest for me. If the little dork does not start really eating soon, I am going to go buy weed and blow it in his face. ;-)

Well, that would be nicer than scruffing him and force-feeding him.

I am watching The Terminator (it’s on Spike), eating a cupcake, and looking at watches on Shop NBC right now. I am trying to let Romeo sleep. I have gone for so long without sleep that I cannot sleep. Gah. Of course, this has nothing to do with the stress of the past week combined with the totally spooky crap I am working on as a side thing right now. Sigh. This is why I just adore being alone. Sigh.

Oh!!!!!!! I forgot!! Good news: Harry trapped the broken-pawed cat in a drop trap, whatever in the hell that is.

I think I am going to try to lie down. If I were not so worried about not hearing Romeo if he yells, I would take a fricking pill myself.

Sigh.

.

Augh

Everyone is still ok. I never realised it was possible to be THIS
exhausted. I think i am supposed to start hallucinating soon, or
something. I am still not done with one paper...I lost. I have never
been late with an assignment like this before. This sucks. I will
finish it tonight when i get off work and get Rome back...and take
care of the other kitties. And find food. I may just grab a lobster
sub and see if Romeo will eat some of that. He took like a mouth-full
of a/d in total. Not bad, but not great. I thought he would
voluntarily eat more, but no. Ok...i have to go be productive. Snort.
Tonight's blog topic: preferred ways to die.

Ok... Bad joke.

The Red Paw of Courage

This is Romeo yesterday evening. They sent him home with a 'Red Paw of Courage'. :-) He is hiding in the upper storey of his cat condo, trying to sleep, wishing Mom would go the fuck away.

Mom did -- rilly. Dr Vet said to.

Today I could not stay home and watch him, so I stayed with him typing for as long as I could, then I phoned Meg to stop by on her way out of town (she is going to Vegas) and take Rome to Dr Vet's for water, another shot of antibiotics (he looked at the Baytril in a Pill Pocket and told me to go screw myself, and he is too sick for me to get into trying to force the pill down his throat), more pain meds, and whatever else.

Right after Meg left, Dr Vet phoned & said that he wanted another kidney function test anyway, so Romeo got that. BUN was still around 80-something, and CREA was 3.9 (he phoned a few hours later, 'cos he was leaving and knew I would want to know). Dr Vet said that was ok for now, all things considered, and he has older pets with similar values who are staying stable with fluid therapy. I offered that if it gets worse, I would want to put Romeo down before making him live with feeling like shit all the time. High Creatinine (I am told) is not *painful*, one just feels shitty and run-down all the time, like being permanently sick. That's a suck-ass QoL if you ask me. I may reconsider if I can get him to purr regularly, or if he *seems* happy and ok with feeling shitty...we'll see when it happens. *IF* it happens.

I have a break right now; I also was told to make Rome eat tonight. Something. Anything. :-) Dr Vet said if Romeo wants pizza and beer, he gets pizza and beer. Seriously, though; I will start with a/d, and if that does not work, I will syringe-feed baby food (again, bless Wildrun for educating me about that!!).

I still have to finish typing one paper, then I am (mostly) done. I still have to go to work all day tomorrow (Eviljob), so I have already made plans to drop Romeo off at Dr Vet's and somehow miraculously pick him up before he closes at four. Argh.

Today I started shaking -- my right hand and arm -- and I thought, 'oh, wonderful; I am sure that's MS or Parkinson's'...then I realised that the last actual sleep I had was Monday night, and the last time I actually ate was Wednesday.

That might have something to do with it. Maybe tonight I'll have some a/d with Rome.

Sigh.

.

Romeo has not yet left the building...

I have to make this fast; I am in the middle of typing my ass off.  I will for now just copy & paste what I had started on my cell, and fix it all later, but I wanted to share this joke, 'cos it has been in my mind for the past two days:

A man goes to the doctor, and the doctor looks over the patient's records.  The doctor is nodding, and making an occasional, 'hmmm'.  Then he looks up at the patient, and says, 'wow'.

'Wow?' says the patient; 'doc, what does "wow" mean?'

'It means,' said the doctor, 'that you look much better in person than you do on paper'.

When i picked Romeo up from the emergency vet, he looked just as bad, if not a little worse. Dr Vet took an x-ray of his chest to see if his shallow breathing might be asthma-related, and said his lungs were clear (enough for a fifteen year-old cat with asthma). Then he palpated what the ER vet had thought was constipation, and took another x-ray of Romeo's hind quarters. It turned out to not be poop, but a 'space-occupying mass' that Dr Vet felt was probably cancer. Odds of surviving without surgery: 0.  Odds of surviving with surgery: less than 5%.  We shot Rome up with morphine, and i phoned Meg to come over to say good-bye. After much internal debate, spurred on by the fact that on paper Romeo did not look all that bad (overall, he looked much *worse* in person than he did on paper; on paper, he was an older cat who was largely in really good health.  If you had to match the cat to the blood work, I doubt Romeo's would be correct -- he should not look this sick, and so I figured there was a possibility that it was something immediate or benign wrong), i and Dr Vet agreed to perform exploratory surgery and euthanise on the table if warranted. To Romeo, there would be no difference; already on morphine, Dr Vet started the anaesthesia-slash-euthanasia in the exam room, and took Rome back into surgery. I signed papers that said i understood this was a total Hail Mary and agreed to pay regardless, and went out into the waiting room.

Some time later (I was just sitting, willing myself to not cry or get a hellacious migraine), one of the surgery techs came out and said that Dr Vet would be out in a few minutes, but he thought I would want to immediately know that Romeo was still alive, and the 'space-occupying mass' was actually one of Romeo's kidneys, with one of the worst abscesses Dr Vet had ever seen -- the abscessed kidney was almost the size of a fist -- and Dr Vet had removed it.  The tech said that almost the moment the offending kidney was removed, Romeo's colour dramatically improved.  The abscess ruptured as it was being removed (it had been about to rupture the whole time), and Dr Vet was doing as much cleanup as possible, but it was not cancer, and Rome was still alive. 

Ok, this is good.

Dr Vet came out later and said that he had never seen anything like this, especially because Romeo's WBC count did not indicate an infection, especially not an infection of this magnitude; an infected kidney of any kind was the last thing Dr Vet had expected to see.  He said that Romeo was down enough physically that recovery was still touch-and-go, but *if* he recovers, he can live a happy life with one kidney, as long as that kidney kicks in and works right.

So I now own a nephrectomeasle.  :-)

He spent the rest of the day at Dr Vet's, and then I had to pick him up at closing time and transport him to the emergency clinic to be monitored all night, since his temp still needed support, and he had not awakened, but he was still breathing on his own, and would not close his eyes (though his being open-eyed did not mean anything, Dr Vet said; he was not actually awake). 

The not awakening part Dr Vet was not really thrilled over. 

So he had to be monitored all night (let's not even talk about how much all of this has cost me); they set him up on a heating pad with fluids and some monitory-thingy, put artificial tears on his eyes every however-often, and turned him so that he did not bake.  The tech supervisor at the Emergency Vet Clinic warned me that they would do everything possible for him, but the not waking up part was potentially bad (in case my vet had not told me).  I had to pay extra for CPR, and if he did not need it, I would get the money back in the morning.  Of course I paid for CPR; even with a 3% chance of success, without it I have made a very shitty investment of money here. 

Sigh.

So I went home, and picked him up Thursday morning at 6am to transport back over to Dr Vet to continue hospitalisation, and when I got there, HE WAS AWAKE!  Not completely 'there' awake, but he was still on morphine, after all.  But he was sitting up somewhat, and the tech said that a few hours after I dropped him off, he started responding (whilst still lying there, looking like he was in a coma) every time she came over to tend to him -- one time he would meow, then next time he would hiss, the next he would purr, the next he would growl...she said it was kind of fun to see what he would do next.  :-)  Then he sat up (his front part, at least), and got as feisty as a Siamese on morphine (great name for a band there, eh?) could get; he tried refusing treatment by pulling his IV paw under his body.  So she had to pull it back out.  Dopey from the drugs, he would let it stay out for a while, then remember he was wanting to be obstinate and pull it back in, making the monitor beep.  They played this game for a couple hours before I got there.  :-)  I apologised for my obstinate measle, and she said not to worry about it at all, 'cos with a cat as badly-off as Romeo, signs of feistiness are a *really* positive thing. 

So I got his feisty self back over to Dr Vet, and they put him back on the heating pad and fluids, and said that they were going to try to feed him today.  When I phoned yesterday afternoon, they said that he was 100% awake (save for the pain med dopiness), and they wanted him to go home to see if he would eat there, 'cos he REALLY did not like being at Dr Vet's.  At all.  In the least.  And Dr Vet thought that he might benefit more from being home and not stressed than he would benefit from staying there and being so stressed out.  So I picked him up. 

He immediately crawled into the top floor of one of my cat condos and went back to sleep.  I put a litter box right in front of the condo, as well as food and water, and just let him be.  What is funny is that in his sleep, he was purring, just really slowly!  I could hear from the condo this 'tick..........tick..........tick..........tick........' and I thought he might be having trouble breathing, so I phoned Dr Vet's back, and the tech told me that he had been doing it there too, though earlier that morning, after his morphine dose, and they had decided that it actually *was* purring.  It *sounded* exactly like purring, only way slower -- like he was too drugged to remember to purr, or something.

Ok, so he is home.  He is still mostly sleeping, though he moved from the cat condo to this padded cat cube thing I have.  He did get up last night to urinate, and it was a normal amount, so that is good.  He still has not eaten, but I have been told that will not be a big deal until it is Monday and he still has not eaten.  He has also not pooped, but Dr Vet's said that is totally normal, so ok.

So I am trying to leave him mostly alone. I have stayed with him a couple of times for an hour or so, and he will purr and sleep.  I think he needs sleep now more than anything.  His ears still look pink.  I need to check his gums again in a bit.  But the take-home message from Dr Vet was mainly to let him know that he was home, and to let him sleep and eat/drink if he wants to.  And give him one Baytril a day, and hold off the Theo-Dur for one week.

His prognosis is still guarded, and Dr Vet is not exactly reassuring me that Romeo will be ok.  I understand that.  He is fifteen, after all.  If he does die, at least I gave him a *chance*, and that is what was important to me when I signed off on the exploratory surgery instead of euthanising him.  He is purring, he is happy to be home, I do not think he feels as badly as he did when I took him to the vet in the first place, and if he cannot heal, at least he had a little more time with me.  He is enjoying it, I think.  He is still at an ok quality of life right at the moment.  If that changes, then I will do what is right by him. 

ok...now I have to get to work.

.

The Hospitalised Measle

BUN 71, CRE 5.5. He is staying in hospital to stay on a heating pad
and get fluids and some shots to keep him from being nauseous or
getting mouth ulcers, i forget. I am picking him up at 7am to take him
to Dr Vet to continue heat and fluids, and then possibly taking him
back to the emergency clinic when they reopen at 6p if he continues to
need observation, cos they have people there at night, whilst Dr Vet
does not. And somehow i have to write a final paper for one class,
administer two exams, and give a presentation in all this. Just kill
me now. Please let my Measle be ok, though. Please. I guess this means
no more cortisone shots, though. I will have to buy that Aero-Kat
mask. I am ok with that, though. As long as Romeo is all right; that
is what matters.

In a past life, i was a Very Evil Person...

I am at the after-hours emergency vet with Romeo. His temp is 96, and
they have taken him in back for thermal support, a cath, and to run
blood work. I put Revolution on him yesterday at four in the
afternoon, and at first i thought it might be a selamectin od because
of his age (he was drooling a little, lethargic, and appeared to have
voided on my bed), but the vet thinks that the low temp might indicate
his organs shutting down--in other words, probably kidney failure. I
had been feeding him Nutro's senior crab and whitefish (or whatever
kind of fish) pouches, but he had seemed ok. We may be making another
notch on the side of Menu Foods' building. When i got back from
Boston, he seemed a little dehydrated, so he had two boluses (boli?)
of 100cc last week...

I guess i am just venting, or nervous-typing, or something. I do not
want to lose my Measle. I love him so much that if i have to put him
down i will probably become suicidal at this point, 'cos i have
already been depressed. Really depressed. Please, please,
please...pull through this, Rome.

I know that he is fifteen, and not going to live forever, but... I
want him to. Shit. This sucks. We are waiting for the vet to get out
of emergency surgery, and my Measle is really important to me, but i
hope whomever's baby is in surgery will be ok, too. This place is so
freaking expensive that whatever it is, it must be bad. I empathise so
much with whomever the owner is.

Meg is with me, but she is grading papers.

I am so very depressed. Do they do kidney transplants for cats?

Lady, you're more than sorry, you know? You're *sad*!

I should be working on school crap -- this is yet one more night where I get no sleep -- but I need a break.

I was asked via email why I would put KotPL to sleep and then whine about it; wouldn't it have been less nutty of me to get him placed somewhere? It was phrased more nicely, but I am a brass tacks kind of girl.

Allow me to clarify, since I am sure others are wondering:

I had no say in the matter. Much to my own chagrin, I am not yet rolling in cash -- particularly because I am still subsidising Harry's existence. As a result, there is no way in hell I could have afforded to continue on speutering through Dr Superhero at $40 for a male and $60 for a female (and forget Dr Vet, at $120 for males and $160 for females). The twenty-three I have had done in the past month would have cost me around $1,080 with Dr Superhero, pre-tax.

And that is not counting the extras I also pay for, like antibiotic shots and doses of Frontline or Revolution, like I was going to do for KotPL -- pick him up this afternoon and take him to Dr Superhero for a dose of antibiotics and Revolution ('cos it does ear mites).

Because I do not have limitless disposable income, I am going through Rescue Group (RG) to speuter the parking lot cats. RG will do it for free provided I come on their free days, and the cats are ferals that come from my township. The only catch is that all speuters will be ear-tipped (thereby making them 'unadoptable' in the eyes of many), and Animal Services performs random testing for FIV/FeLV... and any infected cats are destroyed immediately -- no ifs, ands, or buts. We drop the cats off at Animal Services in their traps and cages between six and seven in the morning on the free days (after having made appointments), and retrieve them from two to three in the afternoon. If one comes after seven, one does not get in; if one comes back after three, the animal is gone. No rescuers can stay and wait for their speuters; if your cat is destroyed, they will *try* to give a courtesy phone call to let you know that you will be picking up an empty cage. Sometimes they cannot get around to phoning people, and one has an unpleasant surprise when one returns.

Animal Services does not fuck around.

RG talked them into basically donating time about a year or so ago, and I only found out about RG a handful of months ago. Until today, I had never taken a cat from Eviljob and had it test positive for FIV/FeLV. KotPL was randomly-tested, found to be positive, and destroyed.

I could not have 'saved' KotPL. It would have been nice if I could, though; I do agree. He was a beautiful cat. I honestly have never seen anything like him.

He had a good life though; probably as good as it gets in a parking lot if you are a cat. With those jowls, huge paws, and powerful body, if he was not King he had to have been damn close. He had his pick of food, ladies, and sunny spots. And he was put down before FIV brought him down and made it so that he was beaten, tormented, and starved by the younger, stronger, healthier cats.

It is not always good to be King, especially if you are on your way out. It's that nasty, brutish, and short thing again.

I *am* sad. I *am* depressed. I wish it had not happened like this. I am afraid for all the other parking lot cats now. I have to get the FIV-positive cats out of there to protect the others.

And, for what it is worth, I hear all the time about some Valhalla that takes in FIV- or FeLV-positive cats. I have yet to see one. I think these places are just one more urban legend; can you imagine the expense involved in maintaining everyone on AZT and Interferon? My beautiful Bombay had FIV, and I can assure you -- that shit is EXPENSIVE. Keeping up with meds, vet appointments ('cos with FIV, even a sneeze is potentially serious), expressing his bladder when he had a bout of paralysis...all that COST MONEY. A *lot* of money, and I will not even touch on the amount of *time* one cat cost; I cannot imagine two...or three...or fifty. I have difficulty believing there is some Mother Teresa of cats out there who is footing the bill for all these meds, vet visits, food, cleanings, and so forth. I think this is something guilt-ridden owners have made up in their minds so that they feel better -- they can abandon their sick cats to looneybirds, and not be guilty of putting them down.

I call shenanigans on that lie.

There is one psychotic woman who hangs around RG, trying to take in cats...the two women who are heading up the speuter part of RG tell everyone not to give her any cats; she's a fucking cat hoarder. She has some obsessive-compulsive disorder and went off her meds (I am not kidding), and her husband threw her out because he could not take any more of the nutsy shit. RG cannot keep her from coming around (and in fact encourage her to bring all her new cats for speutering, to avoid another cat explosion like the one that made her husband throw her out and take the kids), but they do discourage anyone from letting her take more cats because she is batshit.

My point in gossipping about her is that she claims to take in 'infected' cats (yet does not know the difference between FIV and FeLV) and care for them. The thought gives me the leaping yellow shivs -- in my mind I am picturing one of these hell holes where cats are crapping everywhere, never fed, wheezing with respiratory infections, and resorting to cannibalism. One huge point of dispute between Chrissy and myself is that I want this woman to die, and Chrissy sees her as a way to get rid of some cats guilt-free.

'Cos, of course, they are being 'cared for' by someone who 'really wants them'.

Snort.

I am not like Chrissy and Bonnie in this one area -- I do not have the tolerance for that crap. I do not want to help people like that. Or, rather, I want to 'help' them by getting them as far away from animals as possible. Unlike Chrissy and Bonnie, I do not see them as being fundamentally well-meaning people who have gotten in 'over their heads'; I see them as mentally ill assholes who are abusing animals because they can get away with that more readily than abusing children, and I see them as richly deserving a boot to the head. Along with some fines, imprisonment, restrictions on pet ownership, enforced medication regimens, and possibly electroshock therapy.

Voluntary or not.

Butsoanyway.

Because B&C 'feel' for these people, they end up with a lot of clean-up jobs, like the couple who just moved out of my state, and were keeping over sixty cats in a 700-square foot condo/apartment dealy-thing.

I never got the full story, 'cos I told Chrissy she should show up to take the cats with Animal Services and law enforcement, so that these fucktards could get what they deserve. If you are housing over sixty cats who are not speutered and have never seen the outdoors in a 700-square foot apartment and they are ALL feral, you aren't rescuing -- you are HOARDING. You are BATSHIT. You have NO intention of adopting these cats out, I do not care how busy you say you are. For years? Years you are busy?

Puh-leez. I am the QUEEN of busy, yet I do not have stacks of cats at my house, and all my cats are speutered, vaccinated, taken to the vet regularly, and *amazingly* friendly and loving (Christ; you should see Squoosh work the room at Dr Vet's! He has this whole 'I Can Make You Fall In Love With Me In Thirty Seconds' schmooze down to a science!) -- with the exception of Weebie (who was traumatised, and hides when new people come to the house), and Cookie, who is just skittish around strangers. But all my cats are friendly and loving to me and people they see often. And I *know* that I am too busy to go collect forty cats from Eviljob and stack them in my garage hoping to have a windfall of money and free time, whereafter I shall Do Right by them... Feh. I do not think anyone realistically takes in sixty cats thinking that Publisher's Clearing House is going to give them $2,400 (assuming they are all male, at $40 per neuter) and they will take that and go get everyone fixed and adopted out.

For what it is worth, B&C disagree with me. Chrissy and I agree on most (most!) other points, but Bonnie and I also disagree on whether aborting kittens is Wrong and Bad. I say no, Bonnie says yes, and I say Bonnie is free at any time to come take ALL my pregnant mothers at Eviljob and tend to all their kittens and get them all adopted out; I will even trap them for her and drop them off at her house. *I* do not have the time for that, and god only knows the world is not experiencing a kitten shortage, unless CNN has just deemed this event un-newsworthy and is refusing to report on it.

Until Bonnie takes me up on my offer, any unpopped mama I pick up is getting aborted (provided she is not too far along that it would be unsafe, or the kittens alive enough to possibly survive -- like being a week or so from being born, provided that I can tell; thankfully, I have not run into that situation yet. The one mother I was not sure about had her kittens the day after I trapped her, and I just posted about that a few days ago; that mother and four kittens are doing just fine). If you want to be a Fundamentalist idiot, you have to do it on your own dime and time, not mine -- period.

I mean seriously; newsflash: Cats are not subject to the same moral rules as humans, even if one *does* believe abortion is morally wrong. And to make a mother cat suffer through yet one more litter, feeding yet more mouths, and feeling frightened about her babies just to have her babies get killed or adopted out to shitheads who will abandon them when they are not 'cute' anymore, well...I think if there were a god, he would have some really choice words for your sorry, selfish ass.

And because my Cliché Closet is getting a bit full, let me drag this gem out: If you are not a part of the solution, you are a part of the problem.

You are welcome to disagree with me on any or all of the above points if you wish; it is a free country, last I checked. And if you want to run a Home For Unwed Mama Cats, I am able to hook you up like you wouldn't believe, provided you are not a psychotic hoarder. Email me.

Butsoanyway.

The short answer is that I could not have done anything to change what happened to KotPL. And even though my heart disagrees, my head says it was for the best. He had a very nice meal of chicken and mackerel Saturday night, and was eating for about ten minutes before Harry closed the trap on him. As important as food is to them, I feel horrible about tricking them with food. Especially really nice food that I know they want, like mackerel and roasted chicken.

I know that sounds stupid, but I really do; thinking about that makes me cry.

But he had a nice meal. And if he had to die, I guess this was faster than many other ways, all of which are more probable in the life of a feral cat. Especially one with FIV. And when I got my phone call, I did ask if he had been already put down 'cos if he had not, I would have gone over , talked my way in, and given him more mackerel.

Don't ask me how, but I would have. I am good at things like that. I did not have a plan and still don't, but a goodly percentage of my plan probably rested on them not turning away a crying Ancodia with an open can of mackerel for a condemned King of the Parking Lot. But by the time they phoned me, he was being cremated.

So that is my explanation. And a little ranting. Sorry. I am sad.


.

I am sorry to report...

King of the Parking Lot tested positive for FIV and was destroyed this morning.

I am sorry, KotPL. You were a beautiful and regal cat, and deserved much better than what Life handed you. Had things been different, you would have been the light of someone's life, a true friend and comfort. I am sure that you ruled your parking lot with dignity.

.

My Really Busy Saturday

On Saturday I started out at Eviljob, fielding stupid non-urgent training questions, then I had to leave early to go to Job 2, where we were running a linguistics study...then it was back to Eviljob, where Harry was with a manual trap, trying to catch the Little Broken Tiger. We did not catch LBT, but Harry did close the trap on Mr King of The Parking Lot here:



This picture does not do this majesticable baby justice -- he is HUGE. And yes, I know 'majesticable' is not a word, but if it were, KotPL would be it; he is downright *regal*. In the trap, I had to make bird noises to get him to look over at me, 'cos he was giving me the Silent Treatment.

No, seriously; he turned his back to me, and refused to look at me. After smacking his head but good on the manual trap (see pic), he settled down and refused to interact. We are not worthy of his attention. I seriously think that he is Head Kitty In Charge; I have not trapped a cat yet that had such *attitude*!

So on Monday, King of the Parking Lot will have an attitude adjustment; I tried preparing him for it by explaining that Life is not all about who has the most ladyfriends, the most kids, or the biggest balls. He responded by igging me -- turned his back on me, and everything.

Hmmph.

I also want to get him an antibiotic shot and some Revolution for his ear mites; he has a bad case of ear mites, I think.

And these traps are AMAZING! They can be used either manually or automatically, and they are just probably damn close to the best traps I have ever seen! They close in the blink of an eye -- faster, even --and are super-easy to operate. If the cat walks in, the door can be closed before the cat is even to the back where the food is (if it is being manually-operated), and the door is down too fast for the cat to even turn around! If it is being automatically-operated, there is no way in hell the cat can make it to the door from the trip-plate before it closes unless it can teleport, or something. I asked Melissa in this rescue group to get the purchasing info for me, 'cos they are hand-made by Some Guy. I think Melissa said that they are $50 for the manual and $75 for the manual/automatic, but I will have to check. It sounds like a lot, but they really are that awesome -- once that front door is down, it is DOWN, and they have a back door that locks that food/water/litter can be put through, and they are also big enough to use as recovery cages. One of the guys that does rescue showed me how to take sticks and put them through the cage wires to keep the cat at one end so that the food/water/litter can be safely changed, so these things are total one-stop-shopping cages; you can trap, speuter, recover, and release all from the same trap, and they clean up with just a hose.

I finally got home around eleven...after getting up at five; no wonder I am tired all the time. I have finals to finish writing (and take myself...oh, the injustice!), but when I got home, I *had* to watch Charm School. I am hoping Saaphyri wins; she is *so* cute! Seriously--look! It's fiffy-fourf an' Crenshaw:



Butsoanyway.

I have to make up a PowerPoint presentation and work out how I am going to get KotPL down to be speutered since I am going to be at work, so...laterz.

.

Loads of free crap...

I feel as if I will never have a good night's sleep again.  Sigh.

But I did find a free movie:  Penny Serenade

Somehow, that makes staying up all night more...bearable.  Now I am going to order free earrings.

Whee.

In Other News, I was just cited (something I wrote, rather) for the first time in someone else's work.  Go figure--I am an 'expert' in something.  Snort.

Ok...I am off to watch my free movie.

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Anyone want a kitten?

The mother cat that was caught the other night had her kittens--four
of them--this morning. Sigh. So spaying her is out for a while. I am
stuck at Job 2 all day today, and probably all night, the way things
are looking; we are having hardware issues. For now, i am in a
meeting, and should be paying attention...

Kitten Season officially begins...

O-kay; i was just told to not try to catch the kittens right now, and
to give them as much as two weeks before i start trying. So i guess
that is good. I guess. Job 2's other facility is locked, so i am
standing outside, waiting on everyone else, who happens to be late as
crap. This is what i get for being 'conservative in my access
requests', as we all are asked to be. Sigh. God only knows that were i
to try and piggy-back (being a 'rider'), i would end up getting drop
tackled, so i'm waiting. But at least i am getting to hear some really
fascinating conversations about the recent shooting. Amazingly,
prejudice is alive and well. Sigh. I do not understand people, and
probably never will; any excuse to create an Us and a Them, and they
will take it. I think that one reason alone is why we will never
completely get rid of things like outcasts and school cliques;
everyone seems to like the situation just fine, for the most part. And
god only knows, i break out in hives when i hear some of these
people... Speaking of people, mind just pulled up. I guess that means
we are an Us.

Such is Life (Bon Temps Remix)

I am on my way to do calibrations at Job 2 after being all day at
Eviljob and being hideously behind in class work, and i get a call
about a parking lot cat that just gave birth back by the loading
docks. Of course. Sigh.

Honey, I'm home!

Do not feel badly; you are not the only one who does not care. ;-)

So I got home and immediately received a text message from Harry, who had taken over the Little Broken Tiger efforts from Chrissy, who had, in turn, taken over the Little Broken Tiger efforts from Pat.

This just never ends.

Harry had a manually-sprung trap, and caught a pregnant female, cos he thought I would want it, so I had to go out and beg for some place to keep it (Pat accepted it until Saturday), since I cannot bring it here for so many different reasons that it boggles the mind. First off, I do not have the time to take care of it, and the only place it could stay is my garage, and even that is not ideal, cos I have let Harry The Cat be in my garage too often, and the last thing I want to do is infect my whole colony at Eviljob with FeLV.

BWAAH.

So I took care of that, and Harry will trap again tomorrow.

I have to get some sleep, but I want to give you something for free:

FREE JEWELLERY!

No, for real. I have ordered a couple things from them myself and it is not a scam, though I was sceptical at first. One pays for shipping, but even at $5.99, I think that it is worth the price. Seriously. Right before I left, the pair of garnet earrings I purchased (or paid shipping for, whatever) came in, and I was seriously impressed. Not too bad for free.

I would sign up and be an affiliate, but I would have to give them my name, and I am not going to do that if it is liked to this blog. But I urge anyone else to go sign up and be an affiliate and get the money. Let me know who you are (what website), and I will do my best to remember to go to you to click through when I order.

Yay, money.

I am going to go try to get some sleep now. Go get yourself some earrings; you deserve it! ;-)

Hugs.

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Email is marvellous...

But i still cannot figure out how to reply to Blogger's comments...
Gah! If this were not p-card travel (in other words, scheduling out of
my hands) i would. Training is going well, and i will be home in --
ideally -- twenty-four hours. I did get to go to Legal Seafood though,
and it was awesome...and a REALLY welcome break. I am so tired that it
defies description; that is the one thing i hate about business
travel; everything is rush, rush, rush. I hate rushing, i hate having
62,000 connecting flights, i hate living out of a carry-on, i HATE the
TSA and their stupid rules that are SUCH BULLSHIT (e.g., if you want
to carry a lighter or extra lip gloss, just stick it in the pocket of
your pants... What is the use of all their stupid rules?), i hate
trying to remember names and faces, i hate not being with my cats, i
hate 'socialising' with strangers in Hampton Inns just because we are
both so desperately, pathetically bored and lonely... And i hate...

Oh, i forgot what all else.

though i did get a job offer today, which was funny and surprising.

Ok...time to sleep. I hope.

Bwaah! I am in MA, and am swamped with work.

Here’s the deal:

I phoned around and a lady from the RG came out to Eviljob and helped me try to net the cat for almost two hours. It is not the tuxedo I thought was injured, it is one of the tigers that were not supposed to be let off at Eviljob after the large speuter day we did. We could not net it, and I finally *had* to leave, so the other lady put out a trap.

To make a long story short, she ended up trapping (I think) Blacktoe. That is a sort-of yay.

I had to fly out; with the coming storm I was sweating leaving period, and hanging around pit I was sure for a while that I was not going to get to bos, but I did.

Butsoanyway.

So Chrissy went out on Sunday and then again today; she did not see the cat on Sunday, but managed to trap four more, one of which was already neutered and one of which sme jackass guy accidentally released at RG’s speuter clinic.

Just fucking shoot me.

Chrissy and two other people will be trying again tomorrow to get the tiny tiger with the broken paw; this time they are going to try to gang up on it with nets like Pat and I did Saturday evening. That almost worked – if only I had been able to start sooner, or had not had to leave, or had more day light, or something.

Everything is ok, but I am all hormonal. That is why I am being so fucking psycho. And I am tired. Very, very tired. I spent all morning thinking about the broken tiger, the lost orange cat (of course Chrissy had to phone me and leave that message, so that I could come back from break teary-eyed, like the psychotic batshit girl that I am), and being generally lonely and miserable. It is this weather – this kind of weather is always my Final Straw.

Ok…g’night.

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I am so depressed.

I am at work, trying to finish crap up to leave tomorrow, and Security
phones me to tell me that some employee saw a cat with a hurt leg; i
guess this is the same one i saw before that was later walking
normally, or so i thought. Or it could be a different cat, cos the
employee did not describe the cat. I simply HAVE to finish what i am
doing; i have no options there, and right now there is no end in
sight. I HAVE to leave in the morning; no options there, either. I
just left messages for everyone i could think of to see if they could
help, because i have no time here--none. I am in a mess, though this
poor cat is in a bigger one. I could just cry.

Been painting today...

Chroma Key Blue is one of my favourite colours. We are painting and
working with Chroma Key Blue, and apparently having (1) no one
particular favourite colour 'cos you love a bunch of them plus a lot
depends on mood and (2) Chroma Key Blue in the Top Five of one's
favourite colours is weird.

Oh! And!

I forgot! I am also enraged about something else! As i was phoning
all over, i turned on the television and was cruising through the
channels... What am i angry about, you ask? Well, i am glad you
asked! I am also infuriated that The Future Mr Ancodia Candidate
Number One has failed to keep me apprised of his whereabouts. Did
everyone on Earth but me know that Eddie Izzard was on an FX show, The
Riches? I need to watch more tv, i guess. Sigh. How am i going to
come up with all this free time?

Now i have to record all of them, damn it. And buy the dvds. And all
that stuff.

No idea if it is good, or anything; i was busy fussing on the phone
and watching FMACNO.

Earl, do you see this face? This is the face of a woman on the EDGE!

Ok, so... I was alerted yesterday that some friend-of-a-friend to one
of the couples that was helping me trap last month were planning to
dump cats at Eviljob, where they 'knew they would be taken care of'.
Oh, fuck that. No way in hell. So i had to file a notice with Eviljob
advising them about this, so that Security could be on the look-out
for their asses. They actually told the lady who phoned me that they
were *entitled* to drop them off there, cos they had taken them in as
rescues (if you ask me, they sound like cat hoarders), then the cats
had babies (uhhh...not getting their 'rescues' fixed is a big tip-off
for me--cat hoarders!!), and some of *those* had babies, and before
one can blink (give me a fucking break already!), they are swimming in
cats, and faced with having to move out of state. And no one will take
ALL of the cats, and since somehow they heard about what a great job i
was doing keeping my colony fed, they decided that Eviljob would be
the perfect place for their cats.

ohellno.

I have phoned five different people to try to get word to this couple
that this is a Very Bad Idea... I guess i will see what happens. If
they try it, they will likely end up arrested, so i guess i will hear
about it from security. At least one good thing is that if they try
it, they are caught for sure; the entire Eviljob facility has security
cameras (even in the parking lot). Assholes. I am really infuriated
that they would feel justified in dumping kitties or making more work
and expense for me in any way. Those two points have me enraged.

Drama, drama, and more drama...

So at one of my jobs, i am doing a favour for someone. I am doing this
just because i am a sucker, basically. Yesterday evening (right before
my evening class), i was basically told by the facility director to
not do this any longer. So i phoned my program coordinator and told
them that i was told to stop...and can you believe, my coordinator
said to stop, and that they do not CARE that this 'filling in' that i
have been cannot continue...after all the fussing and crap earlier.
That this Situation is *not* important, that they do not want me
risking anything, and that i *am* important. Coordinator then went on
to gush about me...which is SO weird that i was about to ring up a
crisis centre and see if they had any empty cells. Sigh. So...what? I
am back in favour again? After all this time, it feels strange.

I have to also get my crap together for business travel this Saturday.
After squirrelling out of travelling for so long, it was only a matter
of time before luck ran out. Pfft.

im in ur pkng lot theftin all ur kitteez

I have been meaning to put this link up for weeks...

The first page is not that great, but the rest is FUNNY! Chatspeak Cats (thank you, You!)

Chrissy trapped at Eviljob last night, and caught four more! This rescue group has clinics every Monday (I cannot do Mondays because my Mondays are full of two jobs and classes, just like damn near every M - F), and she did that last Sunday, too (I did not know in advance about either) -- this brings the speuter total to twenty-three.

Yes. TWENTY-THREE. And we haven't even gotten everyone; not even close.

Chrissy phoned me this morning to tell me that the two intake ladies at Rescue Group (to be referred to as RG from now on in the spirit of brevity) *finally* understood that I need some farking help out here (I have told them before that there may well be fifty to a hundred cats out here, and probably MANY more if the whole technological park Eviljob is in is taken into consideration, but apparently Chrissy telling them carries more weight), and will try to round up volunteers who know what they are doing.


I am fully aware that I *should* do more, but the fact is that I *can't* do more; I would fail out and get fired from all my jobs. This is at the very least the equivalent of a full-time job, if not more, and I have been saying that since (almost) two years ago when I found my little Squooshable and realised that the problem was way bigger than just one or two cats running around. I had NO idea they hid like that, but at dawn and dusk, the parking lot and its bushes are *alive* with kitties, if you stand still and look. The problem is, I never stood still and looked before Squooshable.

I love you, baby Squoosh!

Butsoanyway.

I have to get back to work, but I just wanted to mention quickly that the cat that I thought was hurt, I guess is not, or he/she got better, or something; (s)he is walking normally now, and I have seen her two times since. One of the cats Chrissy caught had an eye infection so bad that his third eyelid was covering his eye, and RG wanted to put him down immediately, but one other rescuing lady there said that she was pretty sure he was (at least at one time) a pet, because he was being sedate and quasi-friendly (Chrissy said that she also agreed that probably this cat was owned, cos he didn't act feral), so this other rescue lady took the cat and said that she would get him medical treatment and let him gain a little weight and get neutered and then adopt him out herself, or maybe keep him.

So yay.

And since I am on a chatspeak kick, I am thefting a fave comic panel... Cited, of course.

Happy Easter, Happy Spring, Happy, Happy Everything!

I spent today with my family...both of them. Not all at once, though; that would have been too convenient. Meg was in a foul mood for most of the day, and then when I drew her attention to it, she accused me of trying to pick a fight. I dropped it, figuring she is PMS-ing or something, and then she started acting normal. Whatever.

I was playing the Google Easter Bunny thingy, then I realised that he seemed to be doing just fine without my help.

Figures.

.

Am i a huh?

I just left Job 2, and swung by Eviljob; no hurt tuxedo cat. I will go
back by in a bit, and look again tomorrow if i do not see it again
tonight. I do not know what else to do, other than to hope i see the
cat again and if i do, trap it. Or try to.

We got all our crap set up and running in our 'extended off-site work
area', and that is fantastic; everything works as it should, and
believe me, that is a miracle. One of the girls at the off-site
ummm...site today asked me if i was Indian (she is; a lot of the
people at Job 2 are--though there are a lot of things many are not
allowed to interact with because of a bunch of dumb bureaucratic rules
that i can't explain--but we have a lot of Indian and Chinese people,
probably because Job 2 has some aspects that are tech-intensive), but
so she really flipped me out with that one; i'm thinking, 'only if
there is some type of extremely pale and extraordinarily hennaed
Indians with green eyes that i have never seen'. I told her that as
gorgeous as many Indian women are--herself included--i was quite
flattered, but no. She said that my jewellery and some of my hand
gestures had made her think so, particularly my anklet (she thought i
might be married because of it, or my toe rings, i was not 100% sure,
but i think she meant my anklet). But that has to be the oddest
mis-identification i have ever had. Maybe also added to that the fact
that i have been setting up stuff all week with two Indian guys (whom
i eventually need to get around to talking about, cos they are FUNNY,
and one of them is really cute (when i first saw him, before he opened
his mouth, i thought he was an Arab) ; one of them was using my cell
and speaking in Tamil, and when he launched into it, i said under my
breath to the other guy, 'my cell doesn't speak Tamil'. The guy on the
phone shot back, 'oh, yes it does' and went back to his conversation
without missing a beat. Here *i* have to pause between languages...but
that may be because i am stupid...

Sigh.

Went to feed the cats on my lunch break, and the only one i saw was...
Breakfast. Chrissy caught some other tiger girl. Bwaah! No hurt
cat...no other cat at all. And i have to go back to work.

What do i do?

I just left Job 2 to feed the cats at Eviljob; one of the tuxedos
seems to have a hurt back left foot. It is walking slowly, but when i
tried to walk up close (of course today i don't have a trap with me)
to see if i could grab her, she walked quickly away just fine--no limp
or anything--and hid in some bushes. I do not know what to do...i have
to go back to work right now. Should i get some Clavamox tablets and
Pill Pockets and just try to dose her when (if) i see her? I do not
think i can take time to try to trap her; during the week, there is
just no time, and that is assuming i was even successful and got the
right cat...

I do not know what to do.

Rhett Bruvver

Multimedia message
Originally uploaded by Ancodia.

This is Rhett Butler's brother. He has been neutered and released. The man taking care of him as he was recovering named him Oscar. Unlike Rhett, Oscar is all blue. This is not a very good picture, but it was the best I could get before he was neutered.

Kitty update!

I am in class right now, but...

My presentation went well!  Thank god.  And Chrissy was trapping at Eviljob Sunday night, and caught Breakfast (I think).  :-)  Now I just have to get Blacktoe.  And Mehitabel, of course.  And her kittens. 

I never ends, does it?

One of my profs has been ill, but they seem to be doing better now.  I think.  Yet more upheaval.  Woo-hoo!

Ancodia Turns Squooshable Over To Animal Services...

Ok; that is not even funny.

I am typing my fuzzy butt off, and cannot come up with a good prank for April Fool's Day; in an attempt to maintain my high standards of quality, I shall instead steal The Very Best Mischief Ever* from The Very Best Prankster Ever*:





What's a little BSI between friends, right?

*organised religions taken out of consideration in order to make it a fair contest for everyone else participating

.

The Revolution Will Be Televised...

It is entirely possible that I may not get to sleep until Tuesday, though I am going to try to get some sleep right now before I get up again to work on my presentation for Monday.

You Have Given Me A Raging Headache, You Bastards
by Ancodia

Pain.
Pain in brain.
Like a train.
Running over brain.
Big train.
Big brain.
No matter what anybody thinks.

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