One of the little black toms has been going to town on his belly, just suckling the heck out of his entire tummy area. He does not look sick, he is eating, drinking, playing with the others. I am used to kittens suckling on each other, generally paws, tails and testicles are the objects of choice for motherless kittens, but this is the first time I have encountered one suckling on himself.

I am not a fan of bitter apple or any other topical solution that is used to stop unwanted chewing or suckling. Besides, I don’t want this kitten to injest something distasteful…so, I took one of my old ped socks, cut a hole in the toe of it and stretched it over the kitten from underneath the rear legs, to the beginning of his front legs.

I thought it was difficult wrestling Mike’s diabetic socks on his feet every morning, but that is nothing compared to a squirmy kitten! Seemed like every time I got his rear legs into the opening, he would move and push them right back out. After several ill-fated attempts, I managed to put the sock on him, gently guide his tail through the opening and stretch it out across his body. He looks like he is wearing a sweater. To keep it in place, I gently fastened a piece of vet wrap around the bottom and the top of the openings making sure not to make it so secure that it might crush the kitty as vet wrap tightens the longer it is worn.

Now his brothers are chasing him around the room, not because he looks different, cats don’t go on looks, but because he smells different (the vet wrap) They really aren’t sure that this stylin black kitty is their brother!

Last night sleep was difficult. I kept thinking I heard the horses out in the pasture whinnying. Several times, I started to get up and check on them.

Old habits die hard, at the grocery store yesterday, my friend who works in the produce department asked me if I needed some throwaway carrots for the horses. I told her yes, then I paused and started to cry.

The people in town who know the lady who now owns the two boys tell me that they have gone to an amazing home. Although I am grateful for the validation that I did the right thing, they already had an amazing home! We went to dinner last night, a rare occasion for us, but Mike was also sad and we just wanted to feel better. The gal was there in the restaurant and showing everyone who would listen the photos on her phone of “her babies.” It really hurt. She has had them not even 24 hours yet lays such claim on them. I know, I need some whine with my cheese. I am completely grateful that they will be loved and have a good life. I just miss them so much and right now, my life feels very much out of balance. I just need time to work it all out.

Tomorrow morning will undoubtedly be the worst day in my life. After spending 12.5 years with my two horses, Racer and Traveler, they will both go off to a new life with someone who I hope will love them as much as I do.
This is not a decision I entered into lightly. It was not brought about by the fact of my mother harping into my ear every time we talk on the phone; ?Do you still have your horses? You really need to sell them you know.? It wasn?t decided on the weight of the obvious disgust of the step kids wondering why I have horses I no longer ride. I have not decided to put them up for sale to ?get rid of them to the first customer.? I have turned down six homes already.
I had decided the other day to remove all ads up for their sale and after I did that, I sank down on my knees and had a long conversation with God. It was the next evening when I received a phone call from a woman looking for two horses. One, a pasture pet, the other a rideable, trained trail horse.

After talking to her several times and checking her out with my vet. He gave her glowing marks, I decided to yes, sell them and turn them over to her and her family. They have five and a half acres and will soon be moving to her parent?s place (300 acres) Both horses will go together, both will be loved and cared for and I know this is the right choice even though it hurts so bad.
She also wants them for therapy- she was recently diagnosed with cancer and she has had horses her entire life, until 5 years ago after a messy divorce.
There are two kids to lavish attention to both of them, and she has listened to every detail about my care very carefully and asked me to write it all down.
I am doing this because I love them, but life changes. Mike, any time I am late coming home, if he goes out and tries to feed them or care for them, invariably he ends up getting hurt. He can?t rebuild all that fences that Racer keeps destroying, and I have to make a choice here, my husband or my horses.
I will miss them more than I think I can even comprehend right now, but I also know that this home is an answered prayer.

I was thinking yesterday if there was a reality show around my life, what it would it be called? Inside the mind of a crazy person maybe?

Would the cameras follow me as I care for the thirty some cats who live here with us? When I look at all who are underneath my charge, I think octomom has nothing on me! I am however wishing I was part octopus because there are times in my day when I need more than two arms to scoop litter pans, feed and pet kitties, administer meds, fill water bowls, play interactively and not be completely wiped out within a few hours.

I received a call yesterday about a “feral cat.” It was stuck in the barn, yowling and creating “a racket.” “Could I come and fetch this cat before it bit anyone?”

Armed with my arsenal that I use when rescuing a feral cat; thick leather gloves, a leather apron, humane trap, food and water. I struck out for this rural location.

Upon arriving at the address, I was met before i could even get out of the car with a woman wearing a worried look on her face. She was a bit frumpy, red in the face and clearly distressed. I rolled down my window and asked her to please back away from the car so I could at least get out. She finally backed away.

As I stepped outside the car, I could clearly hear the meows of a distressed cat. The tones were deep, not like a kitten and so I knew that I had an adult who needed help.

The woman hung back, wringing her hands and wiping them on her apron. As I started into the barn with flashlight, trap and food, she shouted to me: “Be careful it might be rabid!”

I stepped into the musty barn and it took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust. In a normal situation, once you enter into the same territory of a “feral cat” they become quiet and they run and hide. Not so this time. The yowls became more frenzied and I recognized that this cat was scared, hurt, God knows what.

Following the screams, I knelt down under a large workbench and shined my light into the depths.

Tucked in the farthest corner away from me there was a siamese cat. His eyes glowing in the light were fixated on me. The flashlight traveled down his body and came to rest on his source of torment. His right paw was riddled with porcupine quills. He had quills under his chin as well and was clearly in pain.

I talked to him quietly and slowly slid forward watching his movements. I had a dark towel in one hand, the flashlight in another. He stayed still although his sounds of distress grew louder almost into growls. Dropping my eyes and bending my head, I crab crawled until I was right in front of him. He didn’t flee, I think he was just to exhausted. He allowed me to wrap him in a towel and slowly extract him from his hiding spot. I carefully placed him into the trap, covered the trap and carried him outside.

The woman was waiting, she was all but dancing with impatience. “Did you get it? Did ya huh did ya get the feral cat?”

I looked at the covered cage where someone’s beloved pet huddled in pain and fear. I told her that this was not a feral cat, but one in agony. That the cat had tangled with a porcupine and come out on the losing end of the battle. She seemed disappointed that she didn’t have the pleasure of seeing a snarling, growling feral cat trapped in a cage.

I thanked her for calling and told her I needed to go, but first I asked if I could use her phone to call my vet. She produced a cell phone from her apron pocket. I called the clinic and told them I was on the way to the office with an injured cat. I gave them a estimated time of arrival and said I would be out of communications until then. I just hoped the vet would be there when I arrived. Then I hung up missing my own cell phone. I turned it in a few months ago to help cut down the cost in the household budget.

Thankfully, when I got to the clinic, the vet was there and we both pulled quills out of this kitty. The vet scanned for a chip and found one! YAY! Medicated the girl, gave her a shot and I had the pleasure of calling the owners this morning that I had found their cat. They were so thrilled. They had gone camping and the cat got out of the motor home and they said they lost her. They stuck around for a few days looking for her but finally had to go back home.

So if there was a camera following me in my life, I wonder what the audience would make of it? For as many purrsonalities that I deal with during the day, I could take on such drama as Big Brother and Real Housewives. For as many times as I race to the vet, run to the grocery store because I am out of kitten or cat food, or race around the house picking up hairballs and taking hair off our sofas, i could be a contender for Amazing Race. As for Real World- this in my world and it as Real as it gets.