I was talking with a dear friend last night about how devastated I am with the loss of Tilt. I don’t know if Tilt was just the catalyst of my tears I have been holding back during the last few months as I have had to say goodbye to several rescues; Torah, Maverick, the three fading kittens, Cyrus, Frankie and then Tilt and I just reached my breaking point when Tilt died.

We were talking about everything regarding rescue. She recently lost an older cat and she said to me “Mary Anne, it would be so easy to stop doing this rescue work. So many people walk around ignoring kittens and cats in distress, you will never be able to stop the tide of homeless kittens no matter what- so why not just stop?” Then before I could answer- she said it for me. “It’s what you do.” And, she is right. It is what I do right or wrong, black or white, it is my path in life. I have tried to stop so many times, but as I jokingly tell my friends “God must not have gotten my memo!” I see these cats all over the place and to not help them isn’t in my character. One of the gals who works with me- we drive the same route home told me the other day she never sees cats run across the road in front of her. Funny thing, I do. I see them scoot across the highway, I always slow down, honk make noise try any aversion I can because I know their life is short enough as it is.

Today, early this morning, I went in to get Baker. I went early before the vets got there and at first the girl wasn’t going to give him to me! You don’t do that- you don’t play that game with me, not with my cats anyway. I got him back- I signed him out “against medical advice” (what a joke that was) I did have to promise them that I would pay off the vet bill before the end of August and I will, even if it kills me. Then I rushed him to my regular vet and lo-and behold the first thing he did was take an x-ray!

He gave him some lactalose and before we got back home, Baker had pooped in the carrier.

He is now back in his cage. I suspect they weren’t giving him water or food because he drank so much water when I released him that I had to refill up the Drinkwell! He is eating- and I hope he will poop again tonight-if not, I will get some lactalouse and help things along…..because after all- it’s what I do.

I am a bit miffed right now. Baker is back at the vets because he still hasn’t passed poop on his own even after two enemas. The vet doesn’t think that films will tell them anything, nor will she take any. At first she said she didn’t see any need for it- then she let it drop that my bill is high and they just won’t take that extra step. I guess my kitty isn’t worth $750.00 except to me.

I have been a client there a very long time and have never cheated them out of one thin dime. He is staying overnight so they can see if he will pass stool. he is eating and drinking and there is no other reason he isn’t passing his waste except the car collision. But- I guess that’s not a good enough reason to explore the options, not while there is “Past Due” stamped on my bill!

She was only here with us for about two-and-a half weeks. Surviving despite all the odds against it-feline distemper caught in utero. There were three in the litter, now there is one. She was special, Tilt was a CH kitten with a big heart, she would be walking across the floor, suddenly fall to her left side. She would lay there as if puzzled as to why her world suddenly went sideways, then she would get up, shake herself off and go off on her next adventure.

In the litter pan it became both painful and comical to watch her as she tried to keep her balance. She would cross one back paw, then lift the other one cautiously up off the litter and fall over.

Once she figured out that it was vital that she keep both her rear legs on the floor, she would circle slowly while the stool came out- causing her to get quite messy. She would need a butt bath after every bathroom break.

The light went on one morning and she learned that if she balanced her rear legs against the lip of the pan, then the floor needed a bath not her.

As it always seems, the special ones are taken early. She was insatiable in her quest for my love and attention. Circling my head over and over, crawling underneath my neck and chin, racing around my chest if I even dared to stop petting her. There were times when I just wanted to put her on the floor and tell her to please stop. But I never did.

In retrospect, she must have somehow known her time was limited here on earth and she swallowed every moment of bonding she could get. There never seemed to be enough for her. Not enough of me, of Mike or of life.

One night coming home late from work, I popped off my Victoria’s Secret bra and threw it on the bed. Exhausted, I fell into my pillow only to wake in the morning to see that Tilt had found her perfect kitty bed.

After that day, she would wait for me to come home and slip off the bra, then quickly grab the strap, dragging the bra under the bed where she would sleep the night away. Hubby said it made perfect sense to him. Afterall, her name was after all Tilt-take away the ” L” in her name and she was right at home!

Her brother Franklin died two days ago- the symptoms came on quickly without warning. Before I knew it the leukemia had taken over his body. Tilt died this afternoon in my arms at the vets. She is buried in the garden next to her brother. It seems the only thing our garden is growing this year is tears.

Tilt I love you and now my world is out of tilt. I miss your furry presence on my chest, your comical face peeking over the bra cup, the endless chin rubs and chest laps. I will never forget you. You were the brightest light in my world, shining brighter than the candle burning in my window tonight. I know that you will never come home again, never steal my bra and drag it under the bed, but you did, Sweet Tilt, steal my heart.

There is a verse from a great American poem that starts out “The Brightest Light..” That is what Tilt was to me, the brightest light and now that light has winked out. Goodbye Sweet Tilt, I am sorry your last minutes were so stressful. That new vet had no clue how to help you exit this world. Find that special boy and climb on his lap and keep him company until we meet again. Say hello to your brother and tell him that I love you both- so much-

Whether you have one cat, or several, you will encounter cat pee either in the litter pan or in other places of your home. The more cats you add to your home, the higher the possibility that the cat pee will stop being in the litter pan and will appear in other places not wanted by you. Anyone with five cats or better who say that they have no spraying issues- well they are either letting their cats out of the home secretly, or they are delusional.

Think I am kidding? I recently talked with several cat authors who also have a high number of cats. They have asked to stay anonymous, but they confess to going to such extreme measures to keep cat pee out of some of their rooms.

One gal says she never allows her cats in her office. I understand that thinking- my last computer fried because a cat peed on it in the middle of the night.

Another well-known author tired of her books being “baptized’ had her husband chasing studs. NOT those studs! The ones in the wall of their home. Once located, they mounted all their bookshelves up high enough so even the most accurate sprayer would miss.

For me, my computer seems to be the main target. That and by the front door. I believe they are guided by my scent- upset when I leave for work without taking them with me (I wish I could!) and spraying their scent to cover mine and offer them comfort, and my computer because I spend a lot of time there as well and my signature scent is the strongest.

They seem to love plastic shopping bags, trash bags, wood and cardboard. They aren’t acting out to try and piss me off (no pun intended) they are being cats. When I bring a new cat or kitten in the home, I can expect for my main hosers- Charlie, Baker, Everest and McKinley to try and “right” the signature scent of the home into something they are more familiar with.

I have Noked-Out, Urined-Offed and Nature’s Miracled my home to death. I have huge litter pans in the living room, dining room, bedrooms, upstairs, on the patio and in the enclosure. I scoop and clean daily so many times my arms feel like they are falling off and still they spray.

It is just a fact of life- one that even cat authors don’t want to allude to that they are dealing with. There is no shame in what the cats are doing. They are acting instinctively. But no one wants to admit that parts of their home at times, smells like a litter pan!

Franklin died this morning. He went from a vibrant, loving kitten one minute, to a lethargic, no appetite no interest in water or life the next. He just crumpled in front of me and died. The vet suspects FeLV, Franklin was only 4 weeks old.

Rest well sweetie- I am sure the birds of heaven are better playmates than the stuffed one you slept with.

He was hit by a car last night. He is at the vet right now in surgery undergoing a three-toe declaw. 🙁 Baker is one of those cats who is miserable inside. He sprays, he scratches the door, he cries endlessly. He wants to be out in the back in the barn catching mice. I need to go set up an area for him to be comfortable in in the barn now. I know if I put him in the house- there will be hell to pay. 🙁

He is home now minus four toes. He has had a partial declaw on his back rear foot. He is in so much pain right now that he doesn’t want to eat or drink, but he does want me to hold him and comfort him. Poor Kitty- he has to be in the bandage for five days and he gets a re-check in two weeks. He has 81 stitches in his paw.

A family in a town nearby is losing their home. They have 2 kittens; Skye and Raven that they have been trying to place with anyone who wants them. The problem is, no one wants them. I heard about this family through another story shared to me by a fellow cat lover. One of the cats’ family member called a local shelter to find out if they could take the two kitties. According to what I heard this is what the person at the shelter replied:

“Sure, bring them RIGHT over- then we will be faced with having to decide which older cat we need to put to sleep to make room for these kittens!”

I’m astonished- I know the reality and yes, that is the reality most times at over-crowded shelters- but to tell a heart-sick owner this steps over the line.

I found out the family’s contact number and called them. I spoke with the mother and told her I would be happy to take her two kittens. They are on their way now. They have to be out of their house by tomorrow afternoon-

Sounds like a shelter worker needs to have her ears boxed soundly! If she is so on burn-out then quit your job! You aren’t getting paid for it anyway!

These babies are in bad shape- they have been treated with over-the-counter products and are suffering because of it. They are extremely underweight and they don’t have a lot of fur on their backsides and legs.

they also act like kittens who have been hit -ducking their heads away from me when I approach. I don’t think these sweeties came from a very good place.

She is wary of me now when I step into the room. If she even catches my eye, she quickly darts under the bed, daring me to try and fetch her. I understand her hesitation. For the last few days, I have been force-feeding her, giving her liquid meds and syringing out her nose and dealing with her runny eyes. Poor baby girl- she must really view me as her ultimate predator.

She quit eating last night, so now I slowly get her take her liquid meal complete with 200 mg of crushed L-Lysine. If I take Axle out of the room, she will sit by the door and cry until I relent and put Axle back into the bedroom with her. I don’t want Axle to get sick and so far he hasn’t- but I also don’t want to stress Tandem out anymore than she already seems to be.

I went to the docs today about my ankle. It has been a year since it flaired up like it has lately. The diagnosis is acute achilles tendinitus and according to Dr. B- my tendon is hot. He wants me to wear the boot for 8 weeks and he told me “I don’t want you to do much!” What does that even mean? I have a husband who can’t do anything, if I don’t do “much” we are going to be in a bit of trouble. He also wants me to take up to 8 advil daily (Yikes) and he gave me some pills so I can sleep. Better living through chemicals.

If this doesn’t work to calm down the tendon, then he will be injecting my ankle next. If that doesn’t work- it will be the radical way- the surgery. I really don’t want them to carve on me. I have already had enough surgeries in my life to last me quite awhile. If he does the injection, he says I need to wear a walking cast for 8 weeks afterward to immobilize the ankle. I am hoping the pills and boot work. he also wants me to learn to drive with my left foot. I don’t think that will even be in the realm of possibilities for me. My car isn’t made for you to be able to hitch your leg over to the passenger seat and drive down the road.
At least I still have two days off before i need to go to work. She only has me working two days a week right now if that. Summer time we are really slow-

Over the last 24 hours, Tandem has started to become lethargic. She has runny eyes and a runny nose and she is multiple sneezing. I suspect felineherpes virus. I brought in the big dog carrier and set it up with a box she can hide in, food, water and litter pans. She isn’t happy and of course she has to be the least socialized of the kittens right now, so she is looking at me like I am a green-eyed monster. I set up the vaporizer and will start her on L-Lysine tomorrow morning as i am out of it at the moment. She is crying which is breaking my heart- but there isn’t anything I can do about her being so scared and out of her comfort zone.