Tag Archive | cats

Eventful Two Weeks

Jul10

I had the great pleasure of making dinner for three Ya Ya’s and their husbands at the end of June. It was funny because when I told Mom I’d invited Phyllis and Gord, Penny and Jim, and Maryjoy she went into a total snit about it. She said she didn’t want the dinner at her house, and she didn’t want to be involved and would go straight to bed when the guests came. I said that was excellent, given there’d be six of us, and if she stayed it’d be an awkward number.

She kept bitching and bitching about it, saying she would’ve appreciated more notice of such an event. I said to her I think two weeks notice is plenty, especially given she wouldn’t be in attendance, so why did she care? I think she just wanted to ensure my nerves would be totally eroded by the time the dinner rolled around.

I told Penny and Jim to come early as I said mom wants to talk about death and dying with Penny. They came around 4:00 and so Penny just asked mom some questions about her views on living and dying and so on, and basically it was established even though Mom’s signed up for MAID, she’s too scared to die so isn’t going to go for that and instead will wait it out and die naturally.

By then it was 5:00 so the others arrived, and I’d made crab and cream cheese stuffed mushroom caps for appies, and mom happily scarfed a few of those. Then it was time to sit down for dinner, and I had set the table for six. Mom announced she’d changed her mind and would join us for dinner after all, so in a muttering fit I got out another place setting and grabbed an extra chair.

I’d made chicken Marbella with rice, a green bean salad and a cucumber salad, and Phyllis kindly made an angel food cake containing 11 egg whites for dessert as it was Jim’s birthday in a few days. Everyone seemed happy with the event and the food, especially Mom.

Because of the precarious nature of Denis’ health, Nick flew in for a visit and brought his little five-year-old son Justin. They stayed here in Kelowna for a night upon arrival, then went to Midway to check out old Denis. They visited gramma and me in Osoyoos and camped down at the beach.

At the end of their visit, I’d invited the Taylors to come for dinner which was another successful event. I’d made coconut curried beef stew, rice, and a couple of salads, and also a cake and some brownies for dessert. James and Ashley’s little girl and Justin played like mad hyenas and had a lot of fun.

Then it was time for Nick and Justin to head off, and I said honestly, one visit a year with a five-year-old is probably all old gramma’s nerves are able to take. The kid’s wonderful, smart and really cute, but still a menace in a home unused to children. The dogs and cats were completely traumatized.

I know the child’s mother reads my blog and will think what the hell? But it’s nothing personal, it’s just any pint-sized torpedo moving at a top rate of speed in a home accustomed to solitude could cause a raised eyebrow on the part of the old grand mere, non?

As a follow-up to old Denis’ situation, Luke, Jan and I visited him yesterday and he seems to be very frail after his health incident. He’s not at all able to follow the diabetic menu suggestions and I think not eating properly is a big problem for an insulin-dependent diabetic, but what do I know?

Moulting Hen Scares Coop Mates

Dec10

I noticed an awful lot of white feathers in the run and then saw that Kate was missing feathers at the nape and also under her neck. I figured it must be moulting, but then I saw one of the fluffy-feet grey hens pecking at her, and she was just standing there taking it. I did some research and as the six new hens are young and have never moulted, seeing Kate featherless in some vulnerable areas likely caused bullying.

To reduce any chance of bullying within the coop I got a handy metal fence from Sylvie which she used to corral her little dogs. It can be made big or small so makes a nice little enclosure within the coop into which I can plop Kate for the night. That sounds easy, doesn’t it? All I can say is you go into a chicken coop and try to catch a hen and then tell me about it. I hope moulting ends soon.

It’s not just chickens and people that bully anyone who’s different, as I’ve seen it with cats. I remember when I had my apartment at the corner of 10th and Hemlock in Vancouver in the 70’s. It had a fireplace which I almost never used. But I did use it enough for it to be coated in soot, and one day one of my two white cats snuck behind the screen and came out looking like a panther.

I didn’t know what to do so grabbed the cat and took her into the bathroom, held her under the tap of the bathtub and tried to get the soot off, but wetting the cat seemed to make it worse as now she appeared dark grey all over. I dried her off and set her down and then her sister arched her back and was hissing at her as though she was an intruder! So funny.

My friends the Lynchs came for lunch yesterday and liked seeing all of the Christmas decorations. I said I always do it on December 1st now because the month flies by and then you don’t get to enjoy all the sparkly lights and other adorable things. Sadly, they brought me delicious pastries from a bakery called Sweet Caroline’s in Vernon and so last evening I ate two huge marzipan-coated sponge cakes that were filled with fresh whipped cream.

Calvin and I continue with our very successful tit for tatting. I described it in my book, Okay I’ll Bite (which you should order as a stocking stuffer), but basically, it’s doing the thing the other person can’t or hates to do. I’ll make a pot roast; Calvin will put up the Christmas lights. He changes my tires; I bake him a pie. It seems to work.

This Saturday is our 4th Annual Christmas Party, so I have to shop for food because I really hate buying frozen dreck like spring rolls as the homemade stuff just tastes so much better. I told Calvin we need a double batch of punch as last year we ran out and people were coming into the kitchen with empty glasses and leaving with sad faces.

As you may recall I’m working on a memoir of my ten years in the fruitcake business. It’s ten chapters and so far, I’ve sent seven for editing, so three more to go, and I often feel like I need to take primal scream therapy or at least ingest ayahuasca. As a memoir must have a theme, and as we must understand why this person is doing the things she does, my editor will ask questions like, “you want it, but do you feel guilty about those feelings?” Never mind, I plan on giving this my best shot, just like the hen must.

Imaginary Sore Throat

Oct2

Last week I developed a horrible pain on the back of my tongue and upper throat area. I had to gargle with salt water dozens of times a day, and was taking two Advil every six hours for the pain. I was sure I had something God awful, and of course it was the long weekend, so I knew I would perish without medical intervention. As luck would have it traffic was low to the walk-in clinic nearby so I drove straight down.

There was only one man in the waiting room, so it was a quick visit. I soon saw a doctor who looked into my throat and said, “I don’t see anything alarming.” I was in shock, “You don’t see ANYTHING in there?” I asked. “Nope. Probably just a virus, continue to gargle and take pain meds.” I left saying to the receptionist, who I happen to know, “turns out I’m a hypochondriac.”

Probably some kind of mental reaction to all the care and feeding of the 99-and-a-half-year-old. I’m back to Osoyoos again today, despite having just been there last week, because mom’s in poor shape right now. Last week Luke had found her sitting on the bathroom floor, naked from the waist down, and had to wrestle her into her bed. This caused a few days of confusion, but she was watching the vice-presidential debates last night so she may be making a comeback.

Calvin’s cat Felix had his canine tooth knocked out at the root, and as a nerve was exposed it had to be dealt with by a vet. He took Felix in for an exam, then there was surgery booked for the next day to remove what was left of the tooth. I was in Osoyoos so emailed him and said how much did the vet soak ya for that, and he replied $1400. Can you imagine? I think this is why there are so many pets at the SPCA.

My cat George is just recovering from an abscess he had in his cheek, and which began mid July. It’s the cat’s own fault, as he loves to fight, and he’s also too crazy for surgery, a drain, and a cone. Or I should say I’m too mentally fragile to deal with that cat under those conditions. So he and I have toughed it out, it’s now healing with just a small scab remaining on his chest. Cost? Zero, to both my bank account and my nerves.

But I don’t blame Calvin as his cat is his number one companion and best friend. And you can’t leave an exposed nerve. I could tell Felix was feeling bad prior to the surgery as he loves canned food, and when I went downstairs to open a can for him, he refused it. Poor little cat, but all better now, and back to being allowed outside during the day.

I was thrilled to find a neighbour who’s an expert in WordPress so I now know how to add all of the blogs I wrote in 2006. And magically, WordPress will place them way back ahead of all the others, so it appears as though they’ve always been there. They were always on my website, but for some reason were missed when it was migrated over.

I’m slogging through my memoir of the ten years of the fruitcake business. I’m torturing my editor Judith by sending it to her chapter by chapter. I sent chapter one, she sent a full page of comments. I fixed chapter one, worked on chapter two, and sent her that. This will go on for a while as once each of the ten chapters have been worked on by me after her comments, the poor woman will have to read the entire book and do hard edits.

But as I said to her, you were the one who wanted to be an editor, so cry me a river.