Well, the big day is here. Dad leaves this morning for Minnesota to meet his first grandchild. Baby Elijah was born in March, and dad can't wait to see him. It's also been over two years since dad's seen his boys, and this weekend should be lots of fun for them.
Mom will be here catering to my every whim, and dad's making me promise to stay out of the bedroom until at least seven while he's gone so she can catch up on some sleep. I'm still doing what dad wrote about the other day. Two days ago it was two a.m. Yesterday it was three-something again. This morning I decided to wait until four-ish. Whatever. I've overheard them talking about closing their door at night, but that's been done before and all it did was make me claw at the bottom of the door and voice my annoyance even more.
Deal with it, mom and pop. I run things around here, so get over it. And dad, just so you know- whispering "Shhhh!" or "Be quiet!" means absolutely nothing to me. All I hear is that buzzing noise that I know mom hears when you launch into one of your tedious, drawn-out technical explanations that she so loves.
Anyway, have a safe trip, dad, say hi to the boys for me, and don't worry about me and mom. We look forward to some peace will miss you, and will make the most of our quiet time can't wait til you get home!
Wow, it's been four years today since my uncle left.
As I think I mentioned in an old post dad couldn't keep me at one point some years ago, so his brother took me in to live with him and his girlfriend in her house, and it didn't take long for me to grow on them.
There were several other cats and two dogs living there, which was kind of uncomfortable for me. I grew kind of reclusive (that's a word, right?) and kept to myself, hiding under and behind furniture most of the time.
Once in a while dad would come to visit, and I wouldn't come out to see him. I was so mad, and didn't understand the whole situation.
One of the two dogs there was a little weird. He had a thing for this stuffed bear, a habit most would find odd. Well, I'm sure there are some who wouldn't find this so... never mind. Anyway, this dog would lay there, dry-humping (can I say that?) this poor toy. I guess you had to see it.
My point is that I wasn't so very happy with the living arrangements there, but I did look forward to sleeping between my uncle and his girlfriend, much the way I do now with mom and dad.
Well, my uncle passed away, leaving us in September of 2008. I think of him often, and we all miss him a lot. In spite of all the other animals they had I'll always remember the abundance of love they had for us.
When mom and dad decided to foster poor Grayson I was reminded of dad's brother and his girlfriend. She fostered little ones through the Dakin Pioneer Valley Humane Society, often caring for several at one time.
Anyway, I just miss my uncle. That's all. Goodbye.
Oh, how I wish I could teach orbit how to tell time. That's not asking much, is it? As much as we love this old fart, his shitty sense of timing can get very, very annoying at times.
I'm a hopeless early riser, even when I don't want or need to be, but there are times when- and this morning was one of those times- I'd really like to sleep until at least five. Is that so much to ask, ORBIT??!!
Even at his age a lot of what he does is "cute", and one of our favorite things is his habit of head-butting. We usually get at least one or two a day each, and he's learned that he has to head-butt one of us (usually me, sorry honey!) before he can settle into his favorite spot between my wife's legs for the night. This morning, for whatever reason, he needed a head-butt fix somewhere between three thirty and four, and when he gets something in his head he becomes extremely determined.
We'll take whatever "cute" we can get out of him at this point in his life, but at that hour it's a little difficult to think "cute". He kept going back and forth between (and over, and around and back again) us on the bed, alternating head-butts against our foreheads and noses. I don't know if he was trying to tell us something (I often find myself wishing he could talk- life with him would be so much easier) or he was just feeling particularly loving. Whatever the reason, it was hard to get back to sleep, even after HE settled comfortably in my lap and nodded right off, almost at once soaking his paw and the comforter with drool.
I have to be at work in about two hours, and, as with every other day, I have to be productive. I'll start out bristling with energy as usual, but by lunch time I'm sure my ass will be dragging, THANK YOU VERY MUCH, ORBIT!
But I LOVE you! This qualifier is something my wife and I throw in after insulting one another, usually in jest (right?) Like, "...you're an idiot, but I LOVE you!" "You don't know what you're talking about, but I LOVE you!" You get the point, right?
I'm sitting here trying to tie this up and thinking about breakfast, and orbit's in the bedroom all nice and curled up next to my finally-back-to-sleep wife, in the nice warm spot I left when I got out of bed.
Well, this is me watching the neighborhood from my new perch. I use it now as if I've always had it. I haven't fallen off of it yet, and I
don't think that'll
be a problem at this point. Like dad, I fall asleep very easily, and I don't think it matters how far off the floor I am when I do it.
When I feel the need to stretch out I hop down to the floor when the sun is coming in, and plop down right in the pre-warmed
puddle on the carpet.
I'm not sure how to explain these last two shots, except that I must have stretched in my sleep and let my head slide up under this stool that was in my way. Or maybe I didn't want to
get sunburned on my face.
Whatever the reason, dad thought this would make a funny picture.
He's easily entertained, is all I can say.
Not much going on around here lately. I seem to have mastered the whole damn stair-climbing-so-I-can-get-comfortable thing, and I'm really loving my perch.
For those of you who were concerned with the size of the platform I will say this; I really love the fresh air, the view, and the sun, but when I want to stretch out but still get sun, I climb down when I see sun spots on the floor below, and sprawl out there, where I can stretch and roll into any position I want.
Mom's been busy working on gifts for dad's kids and the new grandchildren, crafty whiz that she is, and dad's getting excited about flying out to Minnesota in a couple of weeks to see two of his boys and meet his grandson in person for the first time.
Though he talks with them now and then dad hasn't seen any of his kids in about two years, and it's been even longer than that since I have. I grew up with them, and still remember when they were little and we all lived in the same house. Boy, how time flies!
Well, dad needs to use the computer to clean up a couple of stories he's planning to enter in some competitions, so I think I'll let him have it and I'll go and do what I do best.
Well flambe me in liquid sunshine and call me Crepes Suzette! Look what appeared in the living room! That's right, someone finally got off his butt and built me a perch. Of course, it's taken me a few days to master the damn steps, since I'm old and you know what they say about teaching an old dog... oh, forget it.
Anyway, dad actually built what he calls a prototype, whatever the hell that means, and he said he'd give me some time to figure it out. Mom's been working oh so patiently with me, and the other day I just started getting myself up it. Going down took a little longer, but I think I've got that figured out now as well.
It may take a while to get used to it, but I've already started getting comfortable, curling up in the sun spot that warms the carpeted top platform nicely. Dad might have to make wider steps, since I seem to have a slight problem getting both sets of paws on each one, but we'll see how it goes.
|
A few days later |
From the looks of things I'd say I have it figured out.
It's a nice quiet day here. Mom's doing all kinds of cleaning, and dad is home sick from work. I'm taking a break from napping in the sun, and I thought I'd share something.
My veterinarian's office, who tried their best to take care of Grayson, sent us this beautiful arrangement the other day. Very thoughtful of them, wouldn't you say?
I've been wandering around the place, snooping into the bathroom and such, sure he's gonna hop out from hiding somewhere. Things are getting back to normal, but, well, it takes time, I guess...
These photos were from a handful of not-yet-published posts. The stories and captions that went with them have been deleted, but the memories will always be with us.
Orbit will be back in a few days, I'm sure.
It is with a heavy heart that I write today's post, folks. This is a very sad place today, and even I feel the emptiness. Grayson's breathing continued to be very labored, and he just would not eat or drink anything, unless mom or dad tried feeding him with the syringe, which stressed him out terribly.
Mom called my doctor yesterday, and they left with the little guy in his carrier, hoping to figure out what was bothering him.
When they came home a while later, their eyes were red, and the carrier was empty. Apparently, they brought Grayson into an exam room where a Vet Tech. took some basic information, and then brought him out back to take his temperature and check him over.
He became very stressed during all this, and though they tried to calm him by placing him in a small cage to chill, they said he went into respiratory and cardiac arrest, and died. Just like that. So small. He didn't even have a chance.
When the doctor came out to talk to mom and dad they expected some sort of explanation about his condition, and what would be done for him. They did not expect to hear that he'd just died. Mom broke down and headed out the door. Dad wanted to comfort her, but also wanted to know details.
This could've been something that Grayson had since birth, and it was only a matter of time.
He was likely the runt of the litter, and, because of where and how dad originally found him was possibly neglected and ignored by a mother who knew something wasn't right.
Whether mom and dad brought him in a day earlier or a day later doesn't make any difference. They said it was probably only a matter of time, and the fact that he'd been such a ball of energy for the couple of weeks mom and dad cared for him didn't mean anything.
Now I feel bad about all the times I hissed and growled at him. I know he just wanted to play, only wanted a friend. I guess I could've been nicer to him.
When they came home dad picked up Grayson's little toys, and the dishes they'd been feeding him from. He washed the syringe and bowls out that they'd been using. His tiny litter box is still on the bathroom floor. Dad will remove it later today, I'm sure.
Mom was up most of last night, and dad got up around three this morning and had her come to bed. She's sleeping right now, and I hope she's not having any bad dreams.
Mom, mostly, did everything she could, giving Grayson a chance to feel loved and cared for. The way he'd follow her around, play with her, and sit with her says it all. Don't be sad, mom. He knows you loved him and wanted to take care of him.
When they came home without him they went in and laid down on their bed, and I almost immediately jumped up and curled up with them. I knew something wasn't right. We have a way of knowing, don't we? I just knew.
I'm sorry you had such a short life, little buddy. Know that mom and dad loved you, and you even started to grow on me. Honest. Please say hi to Isaac for me and dad, okay?
Rest in peace, Grayson
July ?, 2012 - September 2, 2012
We love you
Well now, someone has gone and let himself get all dehydrated and sick. Night before last mom and dad noticed that baby gray wasn't quite the little ball of fire he'd become, and was just kind of laying around. He wouldn't play with his toys, and he seemed to kind of have trouble breathing.
Yesterday morning dad's co-worker, Viv came over to check on the little guy and help out with his care. She's a volunteer with Cat Tails, a wonderful local cat adoption organization, and she's been very helpful to mom and dad in their new role as foster parents.
Grayson became lethargic, and seemed too weak to eat on his own, so he's been getting fluids and softer foods, and he's back to the syringe thingy. Viv came back last night when grayson didn't seem to be doing too well, with the intention of dropping off some pedialyte and baby food, and ended up spending a good portion of her night sitting on the bathroom floor comforting gray and trying to get stuff in him.
He seemed most comfortable curled up in his litter box, and the poor thing looked so sad just laying there. At one point I tucked away my orbitness and poked my head around the half-closed bathroom door to see how things were going.
Mom and dad feel kind of useless, and all they can do is keep trying to get plenty of fluids and food into the little guy as long as he'll take it.
Last night, after they got gray settled and turned off the lights dad found mom crying out in the kitchen. She's sad and scared for baby gray (see- I knew she'd get all attached!), and she feels bad and thinks letting him play too much contributed to his sudden turn.
I kind of feel for him and everything, but boy do I miss being the center of attention!
Uh oh, I pooped. Dad woke before five this morning (I know- crazy fool, it's Saturday!), checked on the little guy, and headed straight for the coffee maker. He walked into the living room and found a log and a half on a pair of his work pants that mom had been mending and left on the floor.
Making a statement? An unfortunate accident? Simply showing my age? What the hell did I do?!