Good Bye Kitty

It's a super sad day for The Gang. Today, The Boss took our diva kitty girl, Maggie, to be put to sleep.

It's been a long hard road for her these last 10 months. She started having seizures back in September of last year. Each month they've gotten progressively more intense and more difficult from which to recover. Around January or so, she started losing control of her bladder with almost every seizure. And then in March or April, she started to have lingering temporary paralysis of her hindquarters after almost every one. By May we knew we were looking at having to make a pro-active decision about ending her life humanely. In addition to the sadness of the condition and the unsanitary nature of losing control of her faculties, we knew that the increase in frequency during day time hours likely meant she was having seizures at night and when we weren't around to witness them. That's no way for my girl to live.

This week, she had what seemed to be the "mother" of all seizures to date. It was terrifying for us all to watch. And we said, "enough."

But it made it NO easier to actually pack her up into her crate and send The Boss out the door to the local SPCA to carry out our joint decision. In fact, since Tuesday, she's been so "normal" and affectionate and interactive that we really were second-guessing ourselves right up until he walked out the door this morning.

Please indulge me while I take a look back at my diva kitty girl. She was a gift to our little growing family and tolerated the many changes of 17 years with grace. Such a tolerant kitty - two big moves, four additional kids, and countless bonnets, blankets, and stroller rides. She never understood that she was "too big" to be a lap cat and though she permanently stopped lounging in my lap shortly after I got pregnant with LadyBug, she was a regular on The Boss's lap every night after the gang headed off to bed. These last months, she couldn't always make it up to the couch but settled at our feet or on the low ottoman for some late night foot-warming. She will be missed.

 First days home, in June 1997, at only 8 weeks old.

Her favorite perch when "play time" with Shaggy and Dr. D

(almost 3 and 18 mos at the time)
got to be too much stimulation and she needed a kitty nap.

One of her favorite perches in this past year,

tucked away in a corner but still in the middle

of The Gang's activity.

A tearful good-bye for this momma.

Beautiful girl, you will be missed.

April 26, 1997 - July 11, 2014

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I can't believe this is what jumpstarted my blogging brain again. But at least SOMETHING has. Man, the drought of coherent thought around here has been a drag. Stay tuned, I have some catching up to do in this "family scrap book" of mine and some give-aways coming up soon, too.

Wordless Wednesday

Yes. I really did find her asleep like this.

Yes. She really did give me the evil stink-eye

for disturbing her slumber.

For more Wordless Wednesday fun,

head over to 5 Minutes for Mom.

I'm pretty sure mine is the only kitty

embracing a Honey Ale.

But it's still lots of fun.

Ummmmm. Yeah. About That.

The other afternoon, Li'l Empress was playing on the stairs.

AFTER I had asked her twice to come down off the stairs

and "please don't play upstairs alone right now."

So, I called to her from the adjoining

living room and waited for an answer.

I called a second time, a little louder in case

she was further up into the hallway and didn't hear me.

In the middle of the third call, she yelled back to me, "What Mommy?"

"Li'l Empress, please come back down the stairs. I asked you earlier not to go up right now."

Silence for a split second.

"But Mommy . . ." (to be read in that universal tone of "that's sooooo NOT FAIR!") ". . . But Mommy, Maggie is playing upstairs!"

Ummmmm. Yeah. Maggie is the cat.

"Li'l Empress?  Maggie doesn't have to obey Mommy. Git your hiney back down the stairs now."

That Crazy Girl O' Mine!

Every so often, when things are getting too quiet around here,

I go looking for Li'l Empress.

And every so often, this is what I find when I go looking.

That cupboard normally looks like this:

But when Li'l E is bored, or when she needs to show a

certain member of this family JUST WHO IS REALLY THE BOSS,

she does this:

And stuck behind that open door, fortified with all the biggest pillows, toys,

and blankets that she can find to keep it barricaded "just so" 

is that previously mentioned family member:

I'm not sure just who needs therapy

more at this point: my poor diva kitty, Maggie

or that crazy girl o' mine?

Making Friends

Our kitty has a bit of a diva reputation. She really only loves The Boss, and tolerates the rest of us. She claims her rightful throne on his lap most nights as soon as the chaos of little gang members has faded to the upstairs. Like clockwork, we see her look around from "her chair" at about 8:30 every night. If she makes eye contact with him, she takes that as her invitation. She stretches, trills in her throat, and leisurely strolls across the room to The Boss's lap where she spends his t.v. time being petted and lavished. The kids have all recognized her limits and her boundaries of wanted attention and fallen into line accordingly. All her humans submit to her queenly ways.

Until September 27th, 2008.

Now, there's a mobile, squawking, noisy little human. Now there's toys strewn everywhere. Now there's little hands to rock "her chair" even if she doesn't want it rocked. Now there's little eyes peering through the cat door, babbling and attempting some kind of interaction. Any kind of interaction. Now there are grabby little hands reaching for a tail that she snobbily keeps JUUUUUST out of reach. Now. There's. ANOTHER! BABY! In. The. House.

I don't know if Maggie has forgiven us yet.

She weathered the birth of two of my children and survived the toddler-hood of all four older gang kids. I am seeing faint but hopeful signs, one month into the baby's arrival, that she just might weather this fifth interloper, too. Even in her advanced years. She just might be making friends with said baby.

Maybe . . . .