The Story on Stitches

I love this picture of Stitches. She is often this unimpressed by the food offered, whether the amount is large or small. Here, she's probably questioning the miniscule size of the offering.

Stitches is in long-term kidney failure, and that we still have her now - it's almost two years since she was diagnosed - is more a testament to the stubborness of this cat than any great care she's had from us.

When she was first diagnosed, the vet suggested a pill to help extend her life. I cannot now remember the drug's name, but I remember that she would not willingly take the pills, and we decided quickly that we didn't want her last months to be full of the stress of her being forced pills she didn't want to take. In our case, this was a good decision, because she has done quite well on her renal-assistance diet (Royal Canin).

She used to be fairly plump, but now weighs next to nothing. I would be surprised if she weighs three pounds.

Still adorable though.

All The Kitties We Can Handle

 The settling-in period saw Jasper and Blaze confined to the living room. They get along alright, but they don't snuggle together at all.

Exploring the surroundings.

As you can tell from this picture, Blaze has a lot of extra weight. He came to us at 25 pounds.
We put him and Jasper on a diet right away.

Part of the problem with these guys was they had been given only junk food, which is how I describe Friskies. It's not the worst food available, but far from the best.  Also, I think they were allowed to just eat whenever they liked, with  no portion control.

Blaze in February

Jasper in March

Looking out the patio door, in June.

By the summer, both cats were much trimmer. Blaze still has a lot of loose skin and feels very cuddly as a result.

Blaze needed a major dental surgery.  We put it off for a while, being unsure of his overall health,  but finally had it done in August, and he came through just fine.

The boys really enjoyed the cottage, where we spent the whole summer.  There, they could go outside sometimes (on a leash or very closely supervised).

Back at home in the fall, Stitches has accepted Blaze - and vice versa.

They say when a door closes, a window opens.

Our Christmas in 2021 was a bit quiet, with only Stitches here. The house, VERY quiet. No one playing kibble chase, or looking for pets and brushing.

So when January rolled around, I was finding the house terribly empty.

And then this showed up on my Facebook feed:

Here were two senior cats - who reminded me of Snaps and Jezebel - in need of a home. Their owner had passed away and the woman's son could not keep them.

I don't always listen when the angel taps on my shoulder and says "You should do this", but it seemed to be fate. We had always said that if we could adopt a senior cat in need of a home, that that is what we'd do.

So, in mid-January, we had two cats delivered to us:  Blaze and Jasper. The gentleman who delivered them to us brought them in and then said "wait a sec, I've got more stuff". He then brought in a whole bunch of food and litter, and a small basket full of toys. I'm talking about at least 20 toys!

For the first few weeks we kept them in the living room, and had a barrier up so that they couldn't see Stitches, and she couldn't see them.  As you may have noticed, these cats both arrived with extra weight on them.  Blaze, especially, was obese - Jasper was a bit plump but mostly just very furry - and neither of them were very active.  We used a gate to close off the room, and it was nothing that would have kept a typical cat inside, but for these guys it was more than adequate.

After a few weeks we introduced them to Stitches.  Blaze is a typical male tabby: he wants to get along with everyone; so he has not been a problem.  Jasper, however, doesn't like other cats, and to this day he still hisses and growls at Stitches for no reason at all.  Stitches is deaf, thank goodness, and doesn't realize what's happening most of the time.

Next post:  more pics!

Time To Post Again

I haven't blogged for over a year. The last time I wrote here, I was feeling pretty happy, despite Covid being the asshole it has been (and continues to be). I just haven't had much to say that I thought would be interesting to the world; and I was enjoying being retired, and flying under God's radar - not catching Covid, no deaths in my immediate family, just humming along.

So when Snaps got sick in November of last year, and we lost him in just a few weeks, I didn't come here to talk about it. I was heartbroken - fuck cancer - and I still miss him, but I just didn't want to talk about it. But now I do.

Snaps was the sweetest, funniest guy.  He showed up in our back yard one day in August of 2010. He was just there one day and didn't leave.

When I realized he was eating our chipmunks to survive (He popped up in front of my window with one in his mouth) I began to feed him.

As the weather got wet and chilly as it does in the fall, I couldn't leave him outside any more. I mean, look at this face - who could say no?  

He had a rocky start with Onyx, but soon settled in. Being a male tabby, he was loving with everyone, and soon even Onyx accepted him.

He became an indoor cat quickly and completely. We never had to worry about him running outside - he'd had enough of that life - and when it rained he would walk around the house meowing, as though he remembered how awful it was to be cold and wet.

His favourite game was "kibble chase". His kibbles were large and round, and we would throw them down the hallway for him to find.

Every morning he sat on the couch with me for pets, as I read or played an iPad game. And he was often on my lap, or Iain's, in the evening. But his favourite spot was curled up in front of the fireplace.

Or under our mini-tree.

So, for a while, we had four cats. And then three.

During this time we began to take the cats to the cottage in the summer. He had no desire to be outside, but he loved the cottage, where we entertain our friends often, and he loved being with them.

And then there were two.

And then he left us

I never imagined that our wee Stitches would outlive them all. 

But life goes on, and I still feel young enough to have cats in my life. In my next post, I'll bring you up to date.

Why gardening at our cottage has been difficult.

 More so this year than some.  Mind you, we see these ladies EVERY YEAR. They like my south-side-of-the-house garden, and they lay in the same spot, always.

Madame Snapper can just be seen amidst the milkweed and chives.

Here she is smiling (?) for the camera.

And this is one of her buddies, strolling over to the large sandy spot under the pine tree, which is popular with both Snapping and Painted Turtles.

This is a Painted Turtle enjoying the sandy spot.

I don't have pictures of the hail, since we weren't there when it happened, but it made swiss cheese out of most of my hostas, and broke dozens of ferns. Also damaged one milkweed, which I hope did not have any Monarch Butterfly eggs laid on it.

We also have to contend with the squirrels and the chipmunks, who think digging up my plantings to see if there is treasure under the roots is fun.

They're so darn cute, though!

Something we saw for the first time this year was a Giant Hornet a.k.a. European Hornet. Not very aggressive, fortunately, but HUGE! Head to tail he was about 1 1/4" long.

According to my insect books, they are supposed to only come as far north as Maine. It's another sign that North America is warming - everything is moving farther north.

And just for the heck of it, here's a picture of a dock spider that is unsettlingly large. He was hiding, but peeked out to see if I was edible, when I stepped onto the dock.

Goodbye to Jezebel

Another reason that 2020 has been sad for us is the loss of our amazing Jezebel.  We knew this was coming, so it wasn't a shock, but saying goodbye is always hard.

Jezebel came to live with us in 2002, when she was already approaching one year of age. We never knew her exact date of birth, so we gave her  Iain's birthday in June of 2001.  It was because of her connection with Iain that she came to live with us: Iain had gone to the humane society to bring home a new kitten (Phantom) - they were giving us one in place of sweet Sage who had been unhealthy when we got him from them, and had died tragically when he was only about 6 months old - and when Iain was filling out the paperwork for him, Jezebel kept giving him headbonks and looking for attention.  So he came home with two cats instead of one.  And it was one of the best decisions he ever made.

Some cats are born to be queens of their household, and that was Jezebel.  She was beautiful, and had the softest fur of any cat I have ever known.  She had an aura of regalness about her, and yet she could behave like any other silly kitten when the mood struck her.

We were blessed to have her with us for 19 years.  For the last three years of her life she failed, gradually, due to her kidneys deteriorating.  Keeping her on a special diet (Royal Canin E Renal) made a huge difference in prolonging her life.  She didn't like pills, and we didn't force them on her, and I think it was the best choice.  The picture below was taken on the couch at the cottage.  She was not as comfortable sleeping in the last months; and doing a face-plant like this was one way she coped.

We still have two cats in our small house, but the place is feeling very empty.  She was my lap-cat, and liked to sleep next to me most nights.  We didn't need an alarm clock with her in the house, as she would wake us up as soon as the automatic lights came on downstairs.  Profoundly deaf for the last two years, she never forgot how her meow would make her presence known. I think she could still hear just a bit, as she would go into the bathroom (good acoustics there) and yowl at the top of her lungs.

I miss that, and I miss her, very much.  Good memories, though.  Love you, girl.

Animals!

Going to the cottage is extra fun when we see wildlife.  A few weeks ago we saw some really interesting ones.

This guy was displaying for a nearby female, who was studiously ignoring him.

I had never seen a partridge (as we call them - officially they are Ruffed Grouse) in full courting display like this.  When we saw him by the side of the road, my second guess was that he was a decoration - he just looked so perfect!

Another great sighting was this young moose who came across the lake and onto shore at the cottage next to my cousin's.  She stood looking at us for the longest time.  Curious about the people staring at her, I suppose.

Red Plum Jam

It seems like everybody is canning stuff this fall.  I think a lot of people have time for gardening and tending to fruit, due to Covid giving us all more stay-at-home days.

One of our neighbours is an elderly gentleman (who has actually been in the neighbourhood longer than we have, which is saying something) who I have given jam and cookies in the past.  He has reciprocated with cookies and other goodies, but this is the first time he has brought fruit to us!

Look at this big box of lovely ripe plums!

Since I had never made jam with red plums before, I had to search for a recipe on the internet and in my canning books.  I didn't find one that suited me, so I cobbled together this one from a couple of recipes.

5 cups sliced red plums

3 cups white sugar

1/2 cup water

Pretty basic, huh?

Combine in a big pot (I used a dutch oven) and heat over high heat until boiling, then reduce heat and continue to cook, stirring often, for about 30 minutes.

If your fruit is not so ripe as this, you can probably shorten the time (since there is more pectin in less-ripe fruit).  Just do a gel check after about 20 minutes, to be sure.

When it looks like this, it should be ready!

I always use a water bath to jar my jams and jellies, so they won't spoil.

Ten minutes is long enough to make a good seal.

This jam has simple ingredients and is easy to make.  Iain seems to find it his new favourite!

Foxy

Today marks 15 years since I lost this guy.  I miss him.  I looked at my blog today and realized I had never mentioned him - but at one time he was a big part of my life.

Foxy came to live with me when I had an apartment on Renfrew's main street, and I already had two cats at that time.  He was the same colour as one I had (Coco) and the young lady who brought him to my door thought that one of my boys had escaped.  I looked at him in her arms, sighed, and said "No, he's not mine, but I'll look after him."  And our friendship was born.

He was about six months old when he came to live with me.  I don't know where he spent the first six months of his life, but whoever he was with lost a great cat.

Foxy could jump - and he had incredible agility.  He liked to sit atop a six-foot tall narrow cabinet I had in the hallway, and he reached the top by first leaping onto a stair bannister (about 3 feet up) and then leapt the rest of the way from there.  The stairs had a large post at one end, which was a shallow pyramid shape, and he would lie on that and turn his head upside down to look at me.

Iain likes to remember the time Foxy somehow managed to get onto the porch roof, and sat outside the second story window looking in.  Since we wanted to go to work we couldn't wait for him to find his way back down, so Iain had to climb up and get him.  Foxy accepted Iain as important to me, but wouldn't allow him to come between us:  if Iain's arm was around me in bed, Foxy would calmly pull at it until Iain moved it, so Foxy could take his usual spot cuddled next to me.  He almost always slept with me, and as he got older he would curl up under the covers next to me.

In the morning when I read the paper, he would settle into my lap while I finished my coffee.  He started and ended every day with me.  And he was a bit of a "guard-cat"; I can remember him hearing someone at the door, and a growl escaping his throat as he listened for an intruder.

He was an excellent hunter.  One time when we were at the cottage, he escaped outside; gone for no more than five minutes, he came back with a chipmunk in his mouth.  Another time, Iain and I came home to find him lying on the lawn, looking rather majestic, and when we called to him we heard a "scree-scree" noise.  He quickly pawed at whatever he was holding down, so we went to investigate.  It was a bat, which we made him let go (at least we were able to save the little guy).

Foxy was 21 when he left us.  He was healthy for all but a day or two at the end (except for the time he decided to leap from a chair back onto the wood stove - that required a visit or two to the vet).  He was a loving little guy, always acting like I was his mom; when he came to the door, I didn't really need or want another cat, but I feel like he was sent to me as a gift.  I was lucky.

How are we all surviving COVID-19, hmm?

2020 is basically a Chinese curse:  interesting times.

We've been doing quite well.  Iain is one of the blessed ones who can work from home.  We're really enjoying our time together, and I am not anxious to have him return to regular workdays.  Nor is he.

The Mourning Doves have been nesting in our neighbour's downspout.  And in ours.  Lots of little doves around our place, now.  We have feeders and a very popular bird bath in our backyard, so when Iain's workday is done we can retreat there to enjoy a bit of nature.

This spring has been hard for many others.  Our neighbour has fallen victim to advanced Alzheimer's.  A nephew's wife has been fighting for her life in hospital for months.  We are so very blessed to have only minor problems.

One of those problems is car trouble.  Both the truck and my dear old Camry ("It's only 21, it's too young to die!") have gone the way of the junkyard.  We are, for the time being at least, a one-car family.

The truck seems to have been given a reprieve by some enterprising soul who wants to fix it up - we've seen it at a couple of places in town.  It's the perfect vehicle for someone who has the time and ability to work on it - just needs a lot of rust fixes, and the electrical is somewhat dicey.  And I hope they don't want to drive it in -30°C weather; it likes to slip into 4WD low and stay there for a time.  It's nice to think it will be around for a while, though.

This being a COVID spring, we were unable to have the yard sale we had planned.  I've been selling some stuff on Facebook (the only use I make of that platform nowadays), and giving some away there as well.  The dining room was packed with junk, and now it's merely sprinkled with junk - a huge improvement!

Spring is here, finally!

Song Sparrow!

A favourite sign of spring.

And we made a quick trip to the lake.