This One's Sad. Read with Kleenex.

After I graduated from college, I moved away from home to take an accounting job in Charlotte, North Carolina. I had a month between graduation and my first day at work, so after securing an apartment, I went home to rest, relax, pack, and plan for the move. At some point during that month, my mother told me I would be taking the family cat with me.

Abby the Tabby was 12 years old and finicky. We got her the summer I turned 10, and she pretty much ruled the roost right from the start. We had a couple of dogs along the way - large Labrador Retrievers - but size never mattered to her. All 8 pounds of tabby cat were definitely in charge at our house. She had her moments where she loved us, usually involving a can opener, and quite a few moments where she was an outright terror. I'll never forget her nightly escapades where she chased my little sister down the hall or up the stairs to her room each night for bed. And then she would sit on the bed, right next to her face, and watch her fall asleep. My sister used to fake snoring just to get her to hop off the bed. I bet she was the one who suggested that I take the cat.

Anyway, Abby and I moved together to Charlotte that summer. The drive was excruciating - the first 3 hours she spent howling at me - and I know it was a huge change for Abby. She must have been miserable not having a whole family to boss around any more. But we grew pretty close over that first year, and I watched her turn from a bossy and demanding pet into a very loving and sweet cat. She followed me everywhere, and it was really nice to have her around. The next year, I made plans to visit the family for Thanksgiving. I was going to drive straight from work, and had left a big bowl of food & water for Abby to last all weekend, but I forgot my ATM card at home that morning. So I headed home to pick it up after work. When I came in the front door, no cat greeted me. I found my ATM card and then went hunting for her.

Abby was under the bed, panting hard and not moving toward me when I called to her. Alarmed, I dragged her out from under the bed and carried her to her food bowl. She sort of sat there, continuing to pant, but not touching her food or water. So I put her head in the water bowl, and she kind of sipped at it. I called the vet, who at that hour of the evening was already sending calls to the emergency clinic, but said to touch base in the morning if we needed her. I took Abby to the clinic, and they proceeded to do a bunch of tests. She wouldn't walk - I had to carry her. She just panted and kind of moaned once in a while.

After a lot of crying, I ended up leaving her at the clinic overnight for testing. I went home to tell my parents that I would not be driving home yet, and I cried a lot more that night. This was the one pet we'd had forever, and this was a very sudden change that I was not prepared for yet. I was so worried and upset. The next morning, the clinic couldn't tell me anything new. They'd checked everything and done a ton of tests - $250 worth, to be exact - and still no sign of what could be wrong. So I drove to the vet's office.

This was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, at 8 am. If you've ever been to a vet on that particular morning, you already know that the parking lot was full and the line was out the door. Everyone in the county was dropping off dogs to be boarded. Me, I had a box lined with a towel, and a sick cat lying inside, panting and hooked up to an IV. To top it off, I'd been crying all night. So I went to the front of the counter and asked quietly if I needed to be in line, since I actually had an appointment to see the vet. The lady behind the counter said yes. She claimed there would be other people in line ahead of me who were also waiting to see the doctor. I told the last person in line, a kind older woman who was just down the steps outside the door, to please save me my place, because I'm going to sit in the waiting room with my cat in a box. And everyone shuffled slowly past me, some giving me sympathetic looks, others trying hard not to look, and a few brave enough to ask me what was wrong. It was pretty darn clear what was wrong. To this day, I will never forgive that lady behind the counter for making me sit there, and not letting me go sit in an exam room. Needless to say, not a single person ahead of me was there to see the vet that day.

The meeting with the doctor was short. We went over the results from the clinic. I vaguely recall having an x-ray for her to see. She couldn't see anything obviously wrong to cure, either. I think she had planned to take the long way toward a discussion of what was going wrong and how to best make Abby comfortable, but after that much crying over a long night, I had really come to the decision already. Abby was suffering and it was time. So I said goodbye and then the vet gave her the shot, and that was it. The end of an era.

I drove home to my family after that, crying the whole way. It was a 7-hour trip. My contacts were a giant layer of salt from all the tears, and I had to stop about 4 times to clean them so I could see through the blur. Really, it was one of the worst days I had ever had in my whole life. When I got home, my dad said that my mom and my sister were out shopping but should be back soon. I took my things up to my room, composed myself a little, and heard my mom & my sister arrive. I headed back downstairs. My sister rounded the corner with a tiny black kitten in her arms, and my mother right behind her. My first thought, which I did not say out loud, was "Oh, how incredibly tacky. I just put Abby to sleep this morning, and they want to replace her with another cat ON THE SAME DAY."

And then he looked up at me and meowed. Oh my lord, that meow. It was like sweet music. I took him in my arms, and I didn't put him down for 4 days. The rest of the trip was a blur. I'm sure I helped cook Thanksgiving dinner, but I don't remember it. Sometime that next day, I named him Max. I drove 7 hours back to my place on Sunday, and realized my family was really thinking about me. I didn't have to show up alone that night and see all the reminders of Abby everywhere - I had a little kitten to distract me! And I promptly found a brand-new vet, one with a staff that was awesome.

It's hard to tell what kittens will turn into. My mom and my sister wanted to get something that wouldn't remind me of Abby, so they bought a male black cat. He turned out to be a long-haired one. Who knew? Plus, he was massive - 13 pounds. But he was adorable and awesome and I basically doted on him.

About 2 years later, I moved back home with my parents, and Max promptly became their first grandkid. He'd wait for them next to the treat drawer whenever they appeared with grocery bags, and 100% of the time, he was rewarded for that minimal effort. Max went out on their screened-in porch nearly every day to watch the birds and enjoy the breeze and sleep in the sun. During the summer, tiny lizards used to crawl in between the boards. My mighty hunter was waiting for every single one of them. He got nightly pampering from my dad who had dubbed himself as keeper of the king-sized lap. They missed him when I moved out on my own again, so I brought him to visit Camp Grandma frequently.

As much time as I've spent brushing his fur off of every single thing I own, that guy is mine, all mine. He's the nicest cat on the planet. He put up with me bringing other cats home, and moving across the country and back, and switching apartments every 3 years. He put up with my late nights during my single years, and even later nights during the infant years. He patiently tolerates my children who yank on his fur. Last fall, he turned 15. I sent a couple of texts to my family and gave him a lot of hugs and thought about how fast 15 years has flown by, and kept on going.

There's a lot of kitty throw up that you tolerate as a long-haired cat owner, but daily for a couple of months is a bit much. He's gotten pretty skinny in the past few months. So this past Saturday, I took him to the vet. The vet did about $250 worth of tests (hmmm, I'm sensing a pattern here) - but the short answer is kidney disease. He's not getting good nutrition, and he's pretty dehydrated. There's a plan, not a great one (it involves pilling a cat - woo hoo), but it's a plan.

I'm not sure what to expect in terms of how long. Right now he seems fine. He loves everyone, and he plays, and he cuddles, and you would never in a million years guess that he is 15. But the vomiting is a problem, since he's not getting food or water to stay down long enough to keep him in good health. I can see where this is headed, much slower this time. I can stop and appreciate him and hug him and care for him, and it will still hurt like hell when he's gone. It dredges up awful memories and tears to think of that morning with Abby, and it was really just me handling it on my own. Thank god I'm wearing glasses while I'm writing this. I'm not sure another pair of contacts could take it.

NOTE TO MOM AND SIS - YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO VISIT PET STORES, BREEDERS, RESCUE SHELTERS, OR HOMES OF FRIENDS WITH RECENTLY-BORN LITTERS OF CUTE ANIMALS. NO "GIFTS FOR THE GIRLS." NO, NO, NO.

Zootopia

Last month I took the girls to the zoo. It was one of those weekends where Brian went fishing on Saturday, and I was with the girls all day, and on Sunday he made plans to get some work done that would take all day, and I was like HECK NO I'M NOT STAYING IN THIS HOUSE ONE MORE MINUTE, YO. So I packed a couple bags with snacks & lunch and headed off for a very expensive picnic.

Actually, it's not that expensive, especially if you bring your own stuff to eat. You could haul a refrigerator in there, as long as you pay your entrance fee. I know a lot of places don't operate that way, so I was glad for the small reprieve. And this is the first year I've had to pay for Helen, but Alice was still free. So thank goodness for that.

The weather was great, and except for all the walking, the girls did fine. Alice has about 10 minutes of patience with sitting in a stroller or a buggy, and then she gets really tired of me not holding her. Let the screeching begin! The good news is that I can hold her and about 10 minutes later, I can put her back in the stroller. The bad news is that she's 20 pounds right now. So I alternated with pushing her or holding her. Helen tried a few times to get in the stroller when it was empty. I definitely got my workout.

We saw giraffes and elephants and some tigers eating lunch. We saw cougars napping and monkeys screeching. We even saw OH MOMMY THERE'S A PLAYGROUND!!! I WANT TO GO TO THE PLAYGROUND!!! CAN WE GO TO THE PLAYGROUND? PLEEEEEASE?

So yes, we did go to the playground. It started raining, and there's a sheltered area where I parked Alice's stroller and sat with her while Helen ran around and got wet. Dear Reader, that girl would change her entire outfit if she spilled a drop of milk on her shirt, but at the PLAYGROUND, it's RAINING, and she had a ball, not a care in the world.

I had to buy her a $2.50 bottle of Sprite to get her off the playground and back to the animals. We saw the meerkats and the alligators and MOMMY, I WANT TO GO BACK TO THE PLAYGROUND.

After 3 hours of too many animals and not enough playground and a lunch that she tried to feed to the crows, we got in the car to leave. She protested for about 15 seconds and then I heard blessed silence from the backseat. Sneaking a quick look as we pulled out of the parking lot, I found her head slumped to one side and eyelids slammed shut.

Thank you, PLAYGROUND.

More Cows

We traveled to Uncle J and Aunt L's farm this weekend.  Helen has been jonesing for about 2 weeks now, begging us to take her to see the cows.  Once we arrived, I discovered why.  Turns out the cows got busy last summer, and there were 7 baby calves running around the field.  

You could say they were a little hungry at this point.  As soon as we came into the yard, they gathered at the fence.  They get to eat all the grass they want right now, but I think they wanted a little bit of feed.  Instead, they got a little bit of Helen.

Here is a picture of some calves.  They are a little wild and won't let people pet them.  This is as close as we got.

This cow seemed fine with posing for a picture.  I don't know why.

Farm living is the life for me, especially when the weather's nice and the people are friendly.  Aunt L did a great job of hauling out all the stops to entertain a very tired little toddler.  I wish I could explain how much that meant to me, since we had arrived without any resources of our own.  I guess I was expecting the cows to take over the show.

I promise I won't take so many cow pictures the next time I'm there.  I am probably the only person who finds these animals fascinating in photography.  I didn't get good shots of them this time because the moms were hanging back with the babies.  I learned that one of the moms had lost her cow (she tried to deliver by herself in the middle of the night) and I felt a little pang of sympathy for her.  It must be the most horrible feeling to stand in a field full of those calves, and not have your baby by your side like all the other moms did.

I gave Helen a little extra squeeze that night when I put her to bed.

Farm living is the life for me

This past weekend, we visited some of Brian's extended family, who live about 100 miles away from us. The important part of the story for Helen is that when she visits them, she gets to see a puppy, and COWS.

Prior to the trip, we taught her how to say, "I want to ride the cows." We thought it'd be fun for her to announce this to Uncle J., and see how much he laughed. Instead, he got on his tractor and drove around until he found the cows, and hauled them home. Then he promptly invited the kids to come out to pet the GIANT bull.

When I say GIANT, I don't even begin to do this guy justice. Everyone stepped carefully around him, because one big swing of his head could have sent a grown man flying. Yet he munched on his feed and stood patiently while Uncle J. waxed poetic about desirable cow and bull features. He called the bull a "baby." And there was no way he'd let his whole family get on the same side of a fence with a bull who had a little attitude. So Helen did her petting, while I took lots of pictures of the whole herd. Believe it or not, those cows were so interested in me running around with my camera pointed at them, safely behind a barbed wire fence, that they hardly noticed the crowd standing in the field with them.

I have to say that it's a little unnerving to watch something weighing as much as my car make a conscious decision to keep an eye on me. And then proceed to do it, no matter which direction I move.

Oh, but where are these pictures, you ask?

Never fear, dear reader. I escaped the farm unscathed and am ready to unleash a torrent of pictures. As usual.

Helen ran around the farmyard, and I tried to get some good pictures of it. Oh, and by the way, her dress is from a Puerto Rican souvenir shop. No really, her grandparents went to Puerto Rico, and now that she has a pretty white party dress, IT'S THE ONLY THING SHE WANTS TO WEAR. Thanks, Nana & Grandpa.





Here's the sweet border collie named Lady that lives at their farm, herding the cattle at the slightest tsk-tsk of the tongue.



Here's a gorgeous old tractor that Uncle J. still rides all the time. He took it aross his field to find the cows, who, due to the seasonably appropriate, but blistering hot weather, were standing *in* a nearby creek.



After they heard the tractor rumbling around, they mustered up the strength to head our way, just in case we had stumbled and dropped a big bag of feed in their trough.



Here's the GIANT bull, with Helen petting him:





Brian can confirm this if you're skeptical, but I took at least 20 pictures of the cows. Nearly all of them were looking right at me. Really. It's a little scary. This one in particular was the "hussy" of the herd and pushed around some of the other cows who got too close to "her man." Apparently, that jealousy extended to a zoom lens on a nice camera, too.



The men contemplate the farm.



And here, we contemplate a beautiful day with family.

Zoo Trip + Camera = Joy

So yesterday I took Helen and MY PRECIOUSSSSSSSS to the zoo. This time, I had my fancy zoom lens, and took some great shots of the animals.



Here we have a good example of Helenicus Monkinius, or as it's more commonly known in this part of the country: "Monkey Toddler." Note the squinting eyes, the deceptive grin - clearly, this creature is contemplating her mother's every move and deciding how loudly to say "no." Oh, it's a wily one, to be sure.

I took a lot of pictures yesterday, and here are some animals that stood still for me:







My favorite pictures came from the Elephant Savannah, where they took advantage of the watering hole to bathe:



And I also got some great shots of flowering water lilies near Monkey Island:



This perky bird would not sit still for the camera, but I managed to snap one of him after a great deal of patience:



And here sits a meerkat, giving us a little look that says, "Hey, I'm working on a reality show here, move it along."



It was steaming hot yesterday, but I managed to endure over 3 hours in the extreme temperatures. Helenicus Monkinius, on the other hand, wilted like a lily at the end. And as I put that sweaty creature back into the car, she mumbled, "More animals."