Empty Nest

Michelle has already posted about this on Insanity Plea, but I'll post the story again here.

Last Friday night the house was still, like a tomb. It was the same Saturday morning. Later that morning Michelle and I left the house, mainly to get away from the stunning silence, to get a pair of new work boots for me and a cat toy to place with Odie's remains. We took Kaiser along. We even took him into several Petsmart's. (He did very well, I might add. The only time he growled was when strange dogs approached us. He's still very gunshy of dogs getting too close after his experience in Dahlgren.)

In one Petsmart, I asked Michelle if she wanted to look at cats. I had to talk her into it, but it was my feeling that the house would feel empty until a cat inhabited it again. Petsmart didn't really sell cats, they provided the local SPCA with a place to showcase their animals for adoption. That was fine with me, and I think Michelle. I'd rather have a mature cat than a kitten running roughshod all over the place. 

One orange-haired kitty got our immediate attention. He's the only one that noticed us that morning. He looked at Kaiser and was thoroughly unimpressed. A cat that could put Kaiser in his proper context had to be a good thing. 

We got an employee to let us in and pet the orange-haired cat, appropriately named "Pumpkin." Michelle took an immediate shine to Pumpkin.  Unfortunately, the SPCA volunteer wasn't in the store, so we had to come back later. A second trip was a no-brainer at that point, even though we had to travel to Virginia Beach to do it.

Later that day, we returned to Petsmart. Michelle filled out the adoption paperwork. I'm not sure what is more extensive mortgage paperwork, the SF-86 form for a security clearance, or the SPCA's paperwork to adopt a cat. Filling any of these out feels like a visit to the proctologist. A proctologist with cold hands and long thick fingers. 

While we were there filling out the paperwork for Pumpkin, there was a mother and daughter there looking for a cat. I overheard one of the volunteers tell the daughter about a gray tabby named "Kyla." Kyla had been at the Petsmart since April. Pumpkin, by contrast, had been there less than a week.  The volunteer got a laser pointer out to entice some of the cats to play for the mother and daughter. I noticed that Kyla was under a shelf, hiding, but she wanted to play. I could see there was more to her personality than she felt comfortable showing there. She was just scared to. Pumpkin did play a little, but he was irritated by some of the more obnoxious kittens.

Well, to make a long story less long, I told Michelle that when she went to pick up Pumpkin on Monday to go ahead and get Kyla too, if Kyla was still available. Luckily she was.

So Pumpkin came home on Monday. The house definitely started to feel right. Pumpkin appreciates the house's low windows and wide window sills. He's an early riser, a day napper, and a night walker. He looks very striking in his green collar. He likes to play on occasion. He has ambushed Kyla, and likes boxes. He is a bit older. He's four years old, and I get the impression he hasn't quite come to terms that this is his new home. Like I said, it was about a week from his old family until he joined ours. He's definitely a cool customer. He takes everything in stride.

Kyla came home on Tuesday, after a paperwork SNAFU that no one at the SPCA is willing to take responsibility for. They say she's three years old, but I find that hard to believe. She's got the attention span and claw control of a cat of a younger age. I would place her age closer to two years old. She is a bit of a spaz. She isn't impressed with the house's windows. She is impressed with our couches. She likes to sit behind you and read over your shoulder. She likes to play, a lot. She looks very lady-like in her pink collar, until she assumes her normal and decidedly unlady-like posture. 

The house feels full again. 

NOTE:  And Kyla is definitely a 'daddy's girl'.  She immediately bonded with Jim and I'm second choice in this situation. -Michelle  

Good bye old friend

The first indication that something was wrong was silence. At 9:00P.M. every night Odie would meow, demanding to be fed. Thursday night it was 10:00P.M. before we heard a peep, and when he did remind us of his nightly meal, it wasn't as insistent as it normally was.

That night we slept in our bedroom in the new house for the first time. Odie didn't. 

We didn't think much of either. We thought our lack of a schedule disrupted his. We thought that after a night of sleeping in the new room, he'd realize that's where we were going to be from now on.

In the morning, Michelle was worried because he slept with his head against his water dish. He never did that before. I thought Michelle was being paranoid. Later that morning, I thought I saw him breathing erratically. Michelle thought I was being paranoid. We ran some errands that morning. After an hour out and about, we returned. It had become obvious by then that Odie's breathing had become laborious. 

Michelle called our vet. We managed to get him in before noon. The vet kept Odie for the day. He said several times that Odie's condition, whatever it was, was serious. Michelle called the vet at 3:00P.M. The vet told her he thought Odie had bronchitis, but he thought there may be an underlying condition. She was told that he had to be picked up at 5:00P.M., and that the vet would write a referral to a 24 hour animal hospital, should we want to take him. Odie's condition then seemed to be on the upswing. His breathing wasn't as labored, and we were told he was talking to the assistants at the vet clinic. 

At 5:00P.M. we returned to the vet's office to find out Odie's condition had worsened. Taking him to the 24 hour animal hospital no longer seemed like an option, it was a necessity. The vet was talking about cardiomyopathy causing there to be fluid in Odie's lungs. We gathered Odie's things and went immediately. Odie, I could tell by his muted meows, didn't like being moved so much. 

We waited at the animal hospital for over an hour to speak with their vet. They took digital x-rays and could see things with better clarity than or normal vet. The condition was far worse than our vet could tell with his x-ray machine.  Cardiomyopathy was indeed the diagnosis, what type exactly would have taken a echocardiogram to determine.  The walls of Odie's heart had thickened. His heart had enlarged and had become valentine-shaped. There was fluid throughout his lungs. The assistant brought us a list of things they were going to do to get Odie to make it through the night, maybe. The list was extensive, covering a full page. Even then there were no guarantees. In fact, the read we got from the vet was that it was a long shot. The treatment the first vet gave for bronchitis actually worsened his condition. (There is no way our vet could have known based on the information he had at the time.) The vet talked about DNRs and if we'd like to be called if his condition worsened throughout the night.  No one was talking about long-term treatment or care. The focus was only on finding a way for Odie to survive until morning. 

It was the thought of Odie dying alone in an oxygen cage that was too much. He died with us there, comforting him. 

When we bought this house, Michelle told Odie it was our forever home and that he would never have to move again. She "sold" him on the house's low windows and wide window ledge's, perfect for a catnap in the sun. Odie got to enjoy those windows for too short of a time, but he did enjoy them. 

Odie and I had an antagonistic relationship most of his life, but that had changed a lot since I went on shore duty. Over the last three years, I had become his second-choice for pets. This is a major step up. For a long time, I wasn't even a choice. Since we moved, there were a couple of times where I was his first-choice. 

Odie had his 15 minutes of fame in the mid-90s. He was featured in the Marmaduke comic strip's "Dog Gone Funny" section. We have the stip around here somewhere, in a box no doubt. It was his desire for affection that gained him fame. He loved giving "kisses." By that I mean, he would put his nose up to your mouth, about an inch away, and he would not go away until you made kissing noises. It was funny enough for Marmaduke's creator Brad Anderson to feature him one Sunday a decade ago.

Odie demanded affection. Kisses, head-butts, you name it. Woe be unto the book that got in between you and Odie. Odie would chew the corners of a book if he thought it was taking too much time away from him. That is if you could even read it with him head-butting the book until you stopped what you were doing and paid attention to him. 

Odie was also a hunter. One of the fastest cats I have ever seen, when it suited him. He's got mice and birds to his credit. He seemed to enjoy the hunt and would often stalk through the house just looking for a cricket or a moth or some other unfortunate creature to cross his path. 

Most of all, I'll remember his purr. He purred often and loudly. He couldn't help it. He purred when touched.

He purred at the end.

Edit:

I made a mistake. Odie was not featured in Marmaduke. Rather he was featured in Larry Wright's Carlyle's Cat Hall of Fame, part of the strip Kit 'n Carlyle, in 1998. The date on the strip is 11-23. I have a copy which I will scan and post later.

A Tropical What?

So over the past weekend Jim and I traveled back to Virginia to check on our new place.  Tropical Storm Hanna was coming to the area and we wanted to make sure the roof didn't leak and that no damage, however minor, occurred.  Hey we're homeowners now.  Plus we had a few things we wanted to take down there.

We arrived at midnight tired and bit cranky with a doped up dog in the back seat of the truck.  Yes, I medicated Kaiser for the trip.  You deal with an aging 60+ pound dog in the back of your car for 9 to 10 hours and we'll see how you hold up.  I bless the person who made cat and dog Valium every time we need to take a trip.  Odie, our cat, is very vocal.  But I digress.  Our arrival did not go unnoticed in our neighborhood.  If I didn't know what it felt like to be watched before, then this weekend changed all of that.

We had brought a small TV in the hopes of catching the local news to see if Hanna had been upgraded.  I never realized how much I missed WAVY TV10.  There's a huge difference between local and national news.  The local weatherman informed viewers that Hanna would be very much like a summer thunderstorm and to just be cautious out there.  While the weather person on the Today show freaked out.  Proclaiming that it was horrible and just look at those waves.  Argh!  Run for the hills.  Amateurs!

So what did Jim and I do when the tropical storm did hit.  We were in Lowe's buying area rugs for our new home.  You know it's not that bad when people are at a hardware store not for provisions to board up their home, but for things for their weekend projects.  Man I love this area!

We also managed to hand all of our blinds before moving in completely.  Some had to be custom cut.  Ugh!  And our A/C broke on our second day.  Luckily my best friend, Greta, was around today to let the repairman in to fix it.  You rock Greta!  We also were able to see Steve before he left on deployment.  Plus we swung by another friend's house to make sure he didn't have any damage since he was still in Rhode Island.  His house was fine.

All in all a productive weekend.  And the movers were scheduled to come on Monday, but that's a story for another time.

-Michelle

P.S. Kaiser loves the house.  And we met our next door neighbor, who has been to Ingleside.  And likes wine!  Hooray!  We look forward to living in this neighborhood.