Goosebumps

You've probably already seen this and I'm CERTAIN you've already heard this (perhaps not this exact version but I'd doubt you'd never heard this song) but - especially this time of year, when it is easy to get lost in details and shopping and planning and list-making, I invite you to take a moment and just close your eyes and listen.



Honestly it just gives me goosebumps and I wanted to share it here so that it doesn't fade away into Internet history.

Are We There Yet?

After a pretty awful false start at introducing Tabby (resident cat) to Shiloh (upstart cat), the Awesome Boyfriend and I decided that the only fair thing to do was to find Shiloh a loving home and it didn't seem like  it was gonna be ours.

Things were tense when we first had them meet face to face but they got downright ugly one late Saturday night/Sunday morning when they formed the "little ball of fierce cat hate".  So we separated them and decided that each cat deserved a good home.  During the week that followed, the Awesome Boyfriend created a "free to a great home" flyer and I took multiple photos of Shiloh and said helpful things like "look friendly" while she vogued for the camera.

I also asked for the advice of various "cat" people, basically just to make sure that we'd done the right thing.  The resounding polite response was "no, actually, ya' didn't".  It seemed to everyone that we'd rushed it.  We saw things were going well and we pushed too hard.  Slowly we both agreed that we'd try again.

I had more hope this time that things would go well or, at least, better.  For five days, Shiloh lived in the office while Tabby continued to have the run of the house.  I kept hoping that Tabby would at least seem somewhat curious as to why the door was staying shut but - honestly - it appeared that she couldn't have cared less.  I wasn't sure this was a great thing - I wouldn't have minded seeing a little more interaction under the door - but I wasn't gonna push my luck.

This past Friday, Shiloh had a vet appointment.  This would be her final scheduled follow-up visit from when they'd first seen her a month prior - when she weighed just over 7 1/2 lbs, was feverish and trying to recover from having kittens.  It was surreal the difference that just a few weeks of food, attention, and care had made.  Not only had she outgrown the kitty carrier that was less than a month old, but she managed to gain close to 4 lbs!  Her coat, eyes, whiskers and attitude have all just thrived.

Boosted by our success, when the Awesome Boyfriend came home this past Friday, I opened the door to let Shiloh join us.  I don't know that I can say we held our breath, but I know that I was far more on edge than last time we'd tried this.

Well, we've so far done alright.  There is still the occasional hissing and spitting, and Tabby clearly doesn't like how Shiloh follows her every move, but at least Tabby isn't hiding under the bed for hours at a time.  We've also learned that Shiloh doesn't understand boundaries (human OR feline) so if you don't want her to follow you into the bathroom or downstairs, you'd best close the door as soon as you can.  For the next few weeks, she'll continue to sleep alone in the office at nights, just to give us all a little peace, and we'll make sure that one of us is here when they're both roaming about but maybe, just maybe we DID find her a loving home.

So for Thanksgiving this year, I'm pretty sure that we all need to thank Tabby, for giving us a second chance.

The Wednesday Wimper, Whine and Wallow

Just because I don't tend to write, talk, whine, discuss, whimiper, dwell, or wallow on the "not so great" parts of things going on in my orbit doesn't mean I don't have any such parts.  So, in no particular order and to just get everything out in the open, here's just three of my "not so greats"...

Whimper

• The 16-year old gray cat (already crying as I write those six words) that I left in good hands is dying.  I was care-ape to this feline ... this life-line to my weak grasp on sanity ... for more than 14 years.  He got me through *e*v*e*r*y*t*h*i*n*g*.  And now I'm a country-width away and am powerless to change anything.  (Realizing that I could have him sitting on my lap and I'd still be powerless.)  So I'm here waiting for the phone call to tell me that he's passed.

Whine

• The "new" cat that the Awesome Boyfriend and I have nursed back to health will need a forever home and it can't be ours.  I'm worried that it won't matter how great, fun, good, loving, soft, and beautiful she is that it won't be easy to find.  I don't wanna fail her after all this.  (See above bullet point for the line of guilt on this.)

Wallow

• The cousin who was fighting her cancer battle when her mother and I were doing the same is back on the "not recovering" list.  I got nothing more to add to this one.  I believe the amount of suckage involved here rather goes without saying.

So yes, I'm a little less social and a lot more bitter than usual.  As with most things, I will work through all of this  (I always do) but give me a break and let me figure it out.  Don't tell me how it'll all be alright.  Don't tell me how you can relate.  Don't tell me how it'll get easier - because, honestly, this part is NEVER easy.

I just don't wanna hear it right now.  I deserve a good wallow and I at least have enough decency to wallow quietly and to myself.  I know I'm not in fit shape right now to be good company to anyone so just be thankful I have enough respect to spare the rest of humanity.  I will recover when I'm ready to do so.  I'm just not ready yet.

Just because I don't share every crappy thing that happens doesn't mean I don't have crappy things.  We all do.  These are but three of mine.

Shiloh's Battle ... The Update

Shiloh, the little kitty who could, is in full-recovery mode.  Her coat is soft and clean and she's keeping herself looking beautiful.  Her appetite is balanced - she's no longer ravenous but she eats when she's hungry and enjoys treats on a regular basis.  She's playful, *loves* her catnip toys, and even her meow has improved.  She'll have one more vet appointment (a booster shot) and we have one more bit of medication to give to her but, other than those minor details, she's a very healthy - and clearly a much happier - kitty.

The Awesome Boyfriend and I introduced Shiloh to Tabby this weekend.  I can't speak for The Awesome Boyfriend, but I figured it'd be a cold reception and just hoped that Tabby would ignore Shiloh for the most part.  Well, long story short, we gave it a try but Tabby made it clear that she enjoys being in a one-kitty home.  (It was Shiloh that was doing the ignoring, actually - she was a very gracious "guest" visitor.)  But we decided at the onset that Tabby's was the only vote that would really count, so now a different journey begins.

Shiloh's primary job will be to continue to recover and I will do my best to find her her new family.  I don't know if it will be difficult or not.  She's got so much going for her ... I'd think there's gotta be lots of families just looking for a warm, loving, quiet, well-groomed, healthy, soft bundle of fun to welcome into their homes and I can't think of cat that has earned that more than Shiloh.  I'd like to think I've helped her in her recovery thus far so hopefully I can help her just a little bit more to find her a deserving forever home.

You Can't Go Back Again

There are few (if any) things that we, as a human collective, agree upon.  In most experiences or circumstances, there are too many variables to get even a group of a dozen people to all say "yes" or "no" if asked the same question.

So the question that is in my head currently is this:  If you could relive your high school experience again, would you do so?

Responses to this question tends to let you know what that person's experience was like.  I know people who couldn't wait to get out of high school, and others who enjoyed their years so much that they look forward to reunions and thumb regularly through their yearbooks while wearing their mascot-laden sweatshirt.  I'm somewhere in the middle - I know where my yearbooks are but haven't glanced at them in years and I actively avoid reunions.  (I'm not one for establishing friendships just because time has gone by and you've forgotten what a tool you were back then because now you've found peace or whatever.  If I was close to you way back then, I'm likely still close with you now.)

I started thinking about this today when I read about a Sundance movie that was released last month about five different stories of children going through various organizational issues in their high school.  One of the individuals highlighted is a student at the school I graduated from more than two decades ago, and as I read about her frustrations, I found myself squarely on the side of ... ... ... the school.

After all, that's My high school.

I loved my high school years.  I had a great group of close friends and extended acquaintances.  I had teachers who really cared and gave the extra effort.  I had extra-curricular activities that helped me express myself as a angst-ridden teen.  I also was part of one of the smallest graduating classes that the school had ever had so it's not an exaggeration to say that we all really did know each other - some of us had gone through our entire 12 years of lower education together.

But I don't want to relive that experience again.

You see, I visited My high school the year after I'd graduated to visit a favorite teacher and quickly realized that, in just less than a year, things really HAD changed.  This wasn't the place I'd left behind at all.  Sure, I still knew most the staff and a lot of the student body, but enough had changed that I saw this wasn't the school I remembered so fondly.  Time continued to go by and the school itself grew and changed (new buildings, new teachers, etc), but each time I drove by, I would remember my years there fondly.  The school I'd graduated from had changed, but the one I'd graduated from that still lived, untouched in my head, had not.  Time has a funny way of doing stuff like that.

Strangely enough, I found myself listening to my hometown radio station (online) today and they were talking about their high school reunions.  One speaker was repelled by the whole idea of reunions and how fake they can be and the other, who had gone to the same school but in a more recent decade, was in active (Facebook) communication with all his friends and teachers and was excited to see them again soon.

I'll bet he was a tool.