January 16th 2014 8:11 pm
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It’s been a long hard day, and now to come home to find out that our cherished links to each other will no longer be here.
We (the girls and I) may not have been around very much in the past year but never, for a moment, did we stop caring about everybody.
I have a big lump in my throat as I write this and I’m tempted to add one last “Oh nosey!” exclamation from Marrakech and mean it with all my heart.
I think I speak for us all when I say that I made cherished friendships here. The girls and I have been around since the end of 2008—beginning what would have amounted to 6 years had this forum lasted until Colette’s adoption date in late October.
Colette and I met through Catster over its Pet-Finder link. We began to make friends…I noted as I copied and saved every last diary entry I wrote, that heavy-hitter, Marrakech counted 1655 of you as part of her clowder.
It is because of all of you that I began to formulate the idea of establishing myself as a pet photographer. I’m still working on making the business lucrative, which is why I haven’t been here much.
And, because of you, I wrote what I consider to be some of the finest creative writing I will ever produce. Thank you.
You all supported us (me) through Marrakech’s long illnesses and final trip to the Bridge. You were here for us through all of Colette’s travails….cheering on every good poop and pee report and easing the pain of finding out she had cancer. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Before I sign off, (and I’ll try to log back in over the next few days/weeks) I want to:
1. Leave my e:mail so you can contact me. firstname.lastname@example.org
2. Invite you to send me a friend request over FaceBook (Carol Zytnik)
3. Invite you to visit my website: furreverphotos.com
4. Update you on Colette and Samsara
5. Hear from you letting me know how you and your fur kids are doing—I mean that.
Samsara is still doing quite well despite tipping over from onset kidney disease to full-fledged CKD. She’s lost a bit of weight, but all in all, she’s doing well. At 15 going on 16, she’s turned into very much the cranky old lady who will not hesitate to let you know she’s the alpha, to make demands, and to keep on demanding until she gets what she wants. In fact, she never shuts up! Poor me!
At times she still plays like a kitten and she’s starting to learn all Marrakech’s tricks with regard to trying to avoid taking her meds. She’s really come into her own after Keshy went to the bridge and she’s quite a character. She exasperates me and, at the same time, she makes me laugh!
Colette celebrated her 2nd anniversary of surviving cancer. She has slowed down considerably though. I would be cheering the first, if a lot of other stuff hasn’t been going on over the last couple of weeks. I just had her at the vet for the second time this week with regard to getting blood and urine tests. The first results are in. Colette too has tipped the scales from onset renal disease to full-fledged CKD. And what first appeared to be an IBD-related food issue and my fault (sort of—trying to stimulate getting her to eat—and feeding some limited ingredient chicken) may be either nothing or part of a much larger issue. The vet just sent us home with antibiotics for what (hopefully—paws crossed) is a bladder infection that’s causing a lot of blood when she urinates. But preliminary tests show her pancreas numbers are off too. Is she now adding Pancreatitis as part of her Inflammatory Bowel Disorder? Is the blood being caused by a bladder infection or an intestinal tumor? We don’t know yet.
Her walk has also been sort of lumbering in the past couple of months. The vet suspects that she’s getting arthritis.
She’s been a bit on the subdued side for the past few weeks, but she’s still Colette—a darling, loving girl who can sometimes be quite cranky. The 7.5 lb cat I adopted is now 12.2 lbs. When I first brought her home she would not cuddle; she’s now a lap cat. Sit at the computer and ignore her at your own peril—she will put holes in your calf or the top of your hand, pulling at you until you pick her up. She hated being brushed…she shows up in the bathroom demanding to be brushed at least three times a day now.
And so, until we meet again. I don’t want this to be goodbye, just the beginning of something new.
Purrs, huggies, headbonks and love,
Carol, Samsara, Colette & Angels Marrakech, Misha, B.A. & Cappuccino
October 26th 2013 1:43 am
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Okay, I see that we put my gotcha story on my profile page, but did you know that:
1. Mom had been waiting for a month to meet me? Since I had serious diarrhea and a cold, and they didn’t know exactly what was wrong with me they put me in quarantine.
2. Even though Mom had fallen in love with my pictures on pet finder, she picked out the pictures of a couple of other furrs she wanted to meet in case we decided we didn’t like each other. (She really only had eyes for me, though.) Since I was on another floor, the Bideawee folks had her meet the other furrs first. There was a silver tabby girl; she was in the communal cat room. Tabby girl’s loss; she hissed at Mom. Then there was a super-friendly orangie boy. He kept following Mom around. (Mom says she didn’t feel so bad about leaving him behind, ‘cause by the time she started filling out the adoption papers for me, she saw another lady filling out papers for orangie boy.)
3. The Bideawee folks told me I had to look my best--there was an important lady coming to meet me. They gave me a baff :( They had been trying to dry my floof when Mom walked into the shelter.
4. I don’t do very well with baffs and I do even worse with hair-dryers. They weren’t going to tell Mom about the baff, but they kind of gave up trying to get me completely dry. Mom still laughs when she remembers I was a bit soggy when they brought me in to meet her.
5. There were a few days between the time Mom first met me and when she took me home. Mom didn’t want to start out on the wrong paw when it came to our relationship, so she let Bideawee finish the antibiotics they were giving me before I came home.
6. On that Saturday, she brought the kennel cab she used to use for the boys (Cappuccino, B.A. and Misha). They put it down on the floor and I walked right in. How did I know they were going to shut the door?! That’s the first time Mom heard me talk. Until then, Mom was sure they were talking about a different cat when they described me as a “sweet chatterbox”. I don’t chatter…I tell you exactly what’s on my mind and I keep telling you until you listen. I’m pretty easy. If I don’t have anything to say, I won’t say it. But when I talk I expect the humans to listen.
7. I grumbled all the way to the subway and all the way home. So did Mom. That was the last time she used the kennel cab. I only weighed 7 lbs. back then. Mom swore I weighed 50 lbs. ‘cause I kept moving around so much and the kennel cab was so heavy. That’s when she made the decision to get the Sherpa bag, never dreaming she’d have to use it so much for me. Good thing too that she bought a lighter carry case, ‘cause I’m 11 lbs. now. (At this point, I answer to the monikers: Colette, Miss Colette [preferred], and Big Girl [OMC, what next!?].)
8. 5 years ago I didn’t know what lying on top of your human was about and that sitting in a lap was the best thing a furr could do. Now I want lots of lap time. And today, I got lots and lots extra lap time, and hugs, and kisses to the top of my head. And, I’ve been here at the computer dictating every word and occasionally applying paw to keyboard to correct some inaccuracies that crept in.
9. I HATED being brushed back then. What was I thinking???? That’s such a great way to get lots of extra attention. (Like 3 or 4 times today, on my Gotcha Day.)
10. Five years ago I was getting all sorts of medicines to control my IBD. After the chemo, IBD stopped being a major issue. (Doc Josh says that chemo works on the immune system.) I’m only on maintenance meds now. I still get limited-ingredient food (raw) and prescription food, but I only get a little prednisolone once every other day.
11. I am 9 years old now and celebrating my 5th Gotcha Day. That is remarkable. It was two years ago when Mom started noticing what seemed like it might be a lump, and 1 year and 11 months since the official cancer diagnosis was made (December 2011). At that time, untreated, they estimated I would live only 6 months more. With treatment (a lumpectomy and chemo), they gave me 2 years. Within 2 months after completing my chemo they found a small nodule along the scar line from my lumpectomy. That’s when I had my radical resection surgery (August 2012).
12. As usual, my secretary woke up late to the fact that we were supposed to be caturbrating a special occasion. As usual, we had to scramble to apply 'paw to 'puter' to acknowledge our day. Given that it is now around 4:30 AM of the morrow, we will be migrating over to the community property bed, and said secretary is thanking her lucky stars that I am with her and that I'm around to join her, and that I have allotted enough space to allow her to curl up in fetal position. In other words, thank you all for your lovely messages and gifts, we will thank you purrsonally tomorrow.
‘Good times and bum times, I’ve seen them all, and my dear, I’m still here. Plush velvet sometimes, sometimes just pretzels and beer, but I’m here. …. I’M STILL HERE!” (Sondheim)
And I’m Loving It!
September 17th 2013 4:51 pm
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Now that Mom has missed almost effury one of our special days this year, you know what? She went to check on something Norman Dreamboat #93’s mom posted to FB and she wanted to check on my page for something. You know what she found? It’s my purr day!
Do Samsara and I forget her purr day? No….. Sheesh…. I’m getting revenge. The kibble and toy guy, what’s his name…Santy Claws? I’m going to paw a special S.O.S. to him and send it via p-mail. He’s coming early to our house this year!
What was the name of that toy company? Wagster.purrs-r-us? I’m pawing a request to them to send stuff like that great cat tree and some extra donut beds and some extra….
Okay… mom apologized and sang Happy Purr Day to me. I’m a bit calmer now. Only a bit… she says she still wants to comb that matt out of my leg that she found while she was hugging me.
Anyway… it’s my 9th Purr Day. It was a year and 10 months ago that they found the Big C. And now look! It really is a day to caturbrate. I made it to my 9th Purr Day! It won’t be long before we can say that I’m a 2-year cancer survivor.
Thanks again effurybody who stopped by my page with lovely gifts—you kitties are the best!
I propose a nip toast! A santé and viva Colette! (ME)
Purrs & headbonks!