Monday, March 02, 2015

Good Riddance

The birthday weekend is gone.  Good riddance.

Birthdays, Christmas, they're hard on me.  Nothing says loser in America like being alone on holidays or your birthday.

That crap sinks in with me some years.  I'm the QUEEN of losers.  I admit it.  I embrace it.  We're all losers, all fuck ups, in our own way.  Think about it.  Who do you remember after they die and for how long?   NOBODY!  So forget trying to be somebody!  Embrace your nothingness.  Ok, so much for lectures and self justification.

Well, it really isn't easy to be alone, have to do everything myself, figure out everything on my own, there's nothing easy about it.

Sometimes I collapse under the weight.

Yesterday I collapsed.

I could go mad with only myself as company and for conversation.

It's the way we are now, in America.  However.  Nobody really cares much about anybody.  I have to be ok with that and able to survive that way.   It's the norm.  Half the people on this block live that way.  The ones who don't are Mexicans and their places are crammed to the gills with people.  Are they happier?   I don't know.  I don't speak their language.

Yard stray Funny Face comes here a lot.   I see him on the stray feeder and go out with wet food for him, since his teeth are bad.   He sees me and hisses in my face, as usual!  He doesn't change!


WhiteFace comes all the time too, wanting wet food, hoping for it, but he'll eat the dry too.   This is him from way back (photo below), taken four years ago.  He only comes in the dark so I just have the old photo.



Zeva spends her days mostly in my backyard or in dead Jack's backyard, under the bushes, or stalking my cats.  She likes to play with them through the windows in the cat yard.  She technically has the home a block away.
Zeva, on the right, visits Mooki

Same home as owns Simba, whom I also got fixed, like I got fixed Zeva, Funny Face and White Face.  Simba comes running when he sees me, and wants in my garage, so I let him in.
Simba

Of all the dozens of cats I've gotten fixed, from my yard, all those brown tabbies and gray tabbies and Siamese and buff orange and blacks and black tuxes, only these four still come back for treats or kind words, or medical care when its needed.

Good.  I couldn't deal with fifty some yard strays!  That's how many I've gotten fixed from my yard.  Over 50!

Now there's another unfixed male roaming through, making my cats nuts and causing them to start with the marking.  The Himilayan.   I'd love to sue people who allow unfixed free roamers.   Those boys often never make it home.  They're often killed on the road.  They often end up fighting and getting FIV, then spreading it to other cats.  But people don't care, and let their cats free roam.  Because it's the easy thing to do.


Ignorance should not reproduce.

Yup, that's it.  My nugget of wisdom for the week.
You might be expecting too much here.

Sunday, March 01, 2015

Crime and Age

Yesterday my world crumbled.  I got too tired and let the boogie man in.  I allowed discouragement to take over and then wallowed in it.  Sometimes it happens.

Also, the woman who abandoned cats in some apartments came by again to claim a cat inside my house is her cat. Of course it isn't.  I reminded her she was not to come onto my property.  She played victim, then turned vicious as she did the last time.  I tried to help her at one point and there was my downfall.  She used that and turned out to be one of those people who can scare you to death because they are really really nuts, manipulative of truth, and perhaps their insanity is caused by drug use, which is even scarier.

I couldn't find my phone to call the police and photograph the car they come in, her and her boyfriend.   I was shaking afterwards for an hour, relocking doors, assembling weapons I might need, I feared, for defense, and cursing myself for ever trying to help her.

In my disgust, I almost dumped the nonprofit application.  Why help people?  I only ended with lots of cats to care for, that others didn't, and fear and financial worry.  Why repeat that?   Well, because I have to, so I can care for the cats here til they die, that's why.

To top it off, an unfixed Himalayan went door to door, in the dark, spray marking everything.  I set a trap, then half hour later, quickly took it up, chiding myself "You can't be doing this, you have no money."  I put the trap away, but an unfixed male coming through stirs my cats into spray marking.

What is wrong with people around here?

Good gosh that's unfixed cat coming through my yard number 53!  WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE AROUND HERE?

Another misery yesterday, a woman a few blocks from here, an off and on cat woman, claims the gray and white stray I got fixed when he came into my yard two years ago, needs to go to the vet and be tested for FIV and put down if positive.  He tries hard to get her to love him even wrapping his paws around her legs.  I tried to plead his case, tried to get her to educate herself about FIV, even though it is unknown if he is positive, she especially if she's calling herself a cat helper, but when I called back, her boyfriend hung up on me immediately, as he always does.    He needs someone to love him, not someone to kill him for any little reason.  It's so sad in this town.

This morning a young Mexican was on the side of dead Jack's house, touching his feet, hopping, acting high on something, someone I'd never seen on the block before, and I came for my phone again, just in case, this time to have it at least, and he had vanished instantly and is probably on the other side of dead Jack's house now and I'll just keep watch and hope he too isn't trouble.

 My birthday, alone, isn't helping.   I think to myself something's got to give.   I know I need to cut off internet here.  Living beyond my means by having it.  I need to just do it, and I keep putting it off.  I can still check my email at the library now and then.  I wouldn't be doing photos anymore, or many blog updates, but I'd do some, and it might make fundraising very tough, but it could still be done.   Someone told me just get a tablet and use free wifi spots.  Like I have money to lay down for a tablet, or would feel comfortable hooking up somewhere, settling in, like at McDonalds' without buying at least coffee, which I can't afford either and would make cancellation idiotic.

I go back and forth because I like having it.  Like buying certain things online. Lots of people around here can't afford internet.   I'm one of them and just faking it.   But doing so is making my financial woes worse.  I need to cancel, plain and simple.

But this morning I'm having a nice cup of peppermint coffee, sent me by my sister friends, one of whom lives up in Washington state and one down in Eugene, after being awakened by Miss D.

It took ages for her to wake me, I think, according to my hazy dream memories that include Miss Daisy poking at me over and over, through chain link and computer connections, me objecting and rolling, hidden cameras and the whole thing being released on YouTube because it was on a state server involved in the Governor Kitzhaber resignation investigation and how I objected through the fog of the dream to the embarrassing release.  Here's to the groggy haze of dreams.

The sun of the warmest winter ever in Oregon is burning into my house this first day of March and the coffee is burning through my hard night's sleep. I'm waking up.

On paper, I'm seriously old.  My brain is working age backwards.  I may as well be four.




Friday, February 27, 2015

Slinko's New Life and Thoughts

Slinko is doing great.  Once I picked him up from the vet and he knew he'd gone there for treatment, not death, and was then coming back home with me, he exploded in happiness.

He knew. The vet care for his bad tooth means someone loves him.

It's such a relief for a cat like him, who has been dumped and treated badly, to understand, he's good now.  The cares can be left behind.

And not just me.  People out there who have never even met him helped him out.

But he takes it out on me.  It's ok.  I can handle his love just fine.

Slinko not only knows his name and comes when called, he will stand on his back legs, upon command and even reach out his paws. 

Blueberry is doing well after her dental also.   I gave her  a partial Mohawk.   Apparently my skills with a clipper have not improved.

The Takeover.  I'm only allowed on my own bed at certain hours.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Slinko Gets His Dental


Slinko went to the vet today.  He was experiencing mouth pain.  He'd cry at times, when eating, or even yawning.  So I made an appointment.  I saw no reason to make it more expensive with an exam first.  Fortunately the vet I use now, a country vet, is practical and affordable and the dental was scheduled for
today.

Slinko spent last night in the bathroom, so he wouldn't eat and get sick on anesthesia.   He felt special and I was in and out before bed, holding him on my lap and he loved it.

But this morning, he knew something was up and began to get very nervous.  I put him into a carrier first then thought I better put him in a live trap for his safety at the clinic.  Cats in traps can be given the first shot of knock out drugs through the trap mesh which is safer for the cat and the vet.  Slinko becomes hissy when scared and he was scared out of his mind. He strikes out when scared.  I know he thought I was going to dump him there or have him killed.   My poor baby.  I had to leave fast.

It wasn't more than a couple hours later the vet called to tell me he had one really bad tooth, all tartared up and with a hole in it and infected into the sinus cavity above it.  It was the last upper right premolar, at the very back, next to the lonely only molar.

Other than that, other than some cleaning needed on that side, he was good to go. He was also updated on his rabies vaccine.  I feel a cat needs to get three rabies vaccines in their life and then that's good enough but I also feel it is a public responsibility to do that.  My cats go in and out, although the yard is contained, but not well enough contained to keep bats out of it.

Cats have 12 incisors, six up top and six on the bottom. These are the teensy little front teeth. They have four canines, two above, two below---the fangs.  They have ten premolars, six up top, three to a side, and four on the bottom, two to a side.  Then they have only the four tiny molars.  Cats don't chew their food.  They rip and tear it apart.  They have no need for molars.

Slinko's feelings were hurt when I loaded him into a trap then into my car and took off with him this morning.  He was scared to death I was getting rid of him too.  He's had a lot of that in his life I think.  He was so relieved to see me come back for him this afternoon.  Now he's happy to be home and sleeping it off.
Under the Influence, in the car, for the trip home from the vet.

Thanks so much to the donors who made his vet visit and pain relief for Slinko possible.  Midori and Mark of Washington state, but formerly of Lebanon, and Barbara Anderson of Nebraska both of whom have many many rescued cats themselves and care for them well.  These are our heroes of the day.   I'm so grateful to them and everyone else who has helped with other cats.  I have no words except THANK YOU!








Sunday, February 22, 2015

Bye Bye Tulip and Rusty

Today I met a Washington state rescue woman in Wilsonville, to hand off Tulip and Rusty, two of the Lebanon colony cats released for further medical treatment and adoption.

Rusty has a clouded over left eye, not sure if that will ever resolve.  He is the sweetest little guy.  The moment I moved the pair into my bathroom, on Friday, after returning everyone else from their colony, he wanted in my arms, on my lap or to be playing.  His happiness and constant activity miffed poor little Tulip who had a spay to recover from, which takes a lot more than recovering from a neuter.  She needed some sleep.

They're unbelievable young cats with personality plus, and will always likely be small, almost munchkin size. I will miss this loving fun pair.

 Now my own cats have the bathroom back and that makes them feel justified.  It is their bathroom, after all.  But also, naturally, they are angry at me, because strange cat smells permeate their bathroom.  That's my fault and I must be punished.  I'm always in hot water with them for something.

Maybe I'll just live in my car with nice cats like Rusty and Tulip.

The Oscars will take over TV tonight.  My TV reception has been bad lately, so bad I mostly just watch Netflix if anything at all.  I need to get up on the roof and redo the cable in from the antenna.  I ran it down through the top of the former wood stove chimney, so it hangs in the air for a few feet off the roof and I think that's where it picks up interference.  What do I know though.  I'm lucky to sometimes get a channel for awhile.  I'll shut up and be happy for that.  That old man in Lebanon I just trapped for only gets a couple channels real fuzzy from his antenna.

Anyhow, back to the Oscars.  I never watch them.  Puts me to sleep.  It's nice that they all dress up fancy and give each other awards and pats on the back and lengthy boring thank you everyone in the world speeches, but I don't want to hear or see that.  Good gosh.  Yuk.

So tonight will  be slim pickings on the TV if the antenna is catching any signal at all.

That's life.

Bye bye Rusty and Tulip.  Good luck, little sweeties.



And here is an oddity, you might think, but you would not think so if you lived here.   The recycle center here is often used as an illegal trash dump and trash oddities abound.  I don't know how the garbage company puts up with it.  Twice I've gone there only to find human feces near one post.   I recycle my wood pellet fuel bags there.  They have one bin dedicated, or so the sign says, to plastic bag recycling.




Thursday, February 19, 2015

Meet The Kitties!

So, 14 cats have been fixed in the last two days.  11 of those are from the Lebanon colony and fed by an 83 year old man.

The other 3 of those 14 came from around an Albany house and there is one more there who needs fixed.  I did not get photos of those three.  But I will describe them.  There was a classic brown tabby boy, for one.  There was a medium hair light orange boy, for two.  Then, to round out the three, was a long hair white girl with a few black blotches here and there.

Someone I know drives through there on her way to the library and had seen them and worried there would soon be lots more cats, if they were not fixed.  She was absolutely right.

So we went over to talk to the folks and they were eager to get them fixed, but the day I picked them up, the wilder black tux (allegedly female) was nowhere to be found and there was too much activity to set the trap I'd brought.

There were only three boys among the 11 I trapped over at the Lebanon colony.   Rascal is HUGE and very beautiful.  Yes, beautiful.  Take a look!

Soft spoken too.


Isn't Rascal something?
Rascal had found his field of dreams, with 8 reproductive age unfixed females.
Until I came along.  Sorry guy.  I think you've done your share.

Then there was Beau, the black and white older male, judged senior in the FCCO records, been around some, but still very sweet.

I've now returned  both Rascal and Beau because their smell was driving my cats mad.

Beau, before he was trapped and, um, neutered.


There have been three long hair gray girls now fixed, including today's girl, Spotty, so named for her white chest spot missing in the other two gray long hairs.  Here she is....

Spotty!
Then there is Splits, a gray girl with a chewed up ear.   The old man thinks a dog did that to her.

Splits, who also has a tiny bit of white on her chest but nothing like Spotty.
And last but not least of the gray girls, there is Norma Normal who reminds me so much of Blueberry, it is uncanny.

Norma Normal
There were two girls judged senior, in age (over six) by the FCCO in their paperwork.  Those would be gray and white girl Suzy and Gray tab on white sweetie---Mrs. Whitey.

Here's is sweet Mrs. Whitey...

Mrs. Whitey is quite wonderful.
Suzy, the gray and white,  is an older kitty and also very nice.
We have the tabbies too, two fuzzy brown tabbies, one a girl and one the third boy, plus a brown tabby on white, with short hair, also a girl.

Matterly, a cute young girl!  The tabby on white!
We have hay lover Martha, a fuzzy tabby girl.
And we have Rusty, who needs some long term antibiotics and eye care, as one eye has turned slightly cloudy.  He is a young male.

Rusty loves Tulip, the young black female who also has a cold and had lice.  The FCCO tested her, because of the lice, but she is negative for Felk and FIV, as was Rusty when he was tested today at Heartland.  Lice can indicate ill health, disease or malnutrition.  Or it can just indicate they live in a very dirty environment.  The pair have been ownership released and will travel to a rescue to get the care they need, and eventually--homes.
Well, now you've met the 11 cats who have been living in my garage since trapped a few days ago.  All but the two who have been released will return tomorrow and that pair will be gone by the end of the weekend.  Off to the Portland rescue taking them in, for care.  The two adult males are already back home.

I gave the cats their names.  The old man would never remember them.  He can't recall the name of his new puppy he got from Safehaven (it's Barney).  I like to name cats.

And as for me, I was happy to solve another cat situation.  It gives me something to do that helps cats and people, and prevents lots of suffering down the line.

Wednesday, February 18, 2015

Day of Cats and HIkes

I trapped ten cats at the Lebanon colony, over two days.  And found three more in town here that needed fixed but wouldn't otherwise get fixed.  Today all 13 went with me to Portland, to the FCCO clinic, to be fixed.

I dropped them off then headed out I84, intent on a day at Multnomah Falls.  I stopped in Troutdale and ran into this in the parking lot of Jack in the Box.


A woman came out to talk to me.  Yes, it is her cat.  She and her guy live in the car right now, with the cat.  They were inside Jack in the Box having breakfast. The windshield was seriously shattered.  The cat stays close to the car or jumps back in an open window. He had to check out my stinky cat car too!

I headed east and quickly took the Corbett exit and drove old highway 30.  It was beautiful and I stopped in at Vista House.  It was closed, too early to be open, but I took some shots anyhow, and the wind blustered but nothing like the wind this location is famous for.



Looking east from Vista House up the Columbia River Gorge



I stopped at the first Falls I came to and they are numerous water falls along the Gorge highway with many pull outs and trails up the mountain.  However, at this point, my phone rang.  It was the old man in Lebanon.  He said one of his gray girls was out on the porch, should he catch her?  I said yes, and talked him through refreshing the trap bait.  He caught her.  Then I called various people to ask if they could drive up and pick the cat up and finally found a friend who answered and agreed to go get the cat in the trap.

Next I called Heartland to see if the cat could be fixed tomorrow there and they said yes.  So the cat will be fixed tomorrow, although I don't know if the old man will pay or not.  Costs $40, darn it.

Then I went up the trail to the upper Latourell Falls. The falls in the photo below is Lower Latourell Falls.  Why I did so, out of shape as I am, I don't know.  Just a glutton for misery, I suppose.  It was a mile up there to the top and a mile back down and it didn't take that long.

These falls are beautiful!


Looking down at the parking lot



I stopped in a Wahkeena Falls, but I really needed to use a bathroom and there were no restrooms there.  It was so pretty, but only a half mile farther was Multnomah Falls and lodge with bathrooms!  There were too many people around to "be a redneck", if you get my drift.  So on to Multnomah Falls.





I parked at Multnomah Falls, which is extremely popular with tourists from all over the world and found the restrooms and for some reason, I determined I had not experienced enough pain and suffering for the day with the previous vertical hike.  I started out on the arduous hike up to the top of Multnomah Falls.  That's over a mile of grinding steep uphill that makes your legs scream for mercy.

Most tourists take photos a few hundred feet up from the lodge of the Falls two parts, with the stone pedestrian bridge between the upper and lower falls.  A few hike up to the stone bridge to take selfies with the larger falls behind and above them.  And a very few, by comparison, head on up the killer switchbacks to the very top of the upper falls.

My legs screamed all the way.  I'd stop every 50 feet to catch my breath the last half mile.  My legs had begun to violently tremble.   Young people passed me or people passed me coming down.  All were encouraging.  "You can do it," the younger people would say, smiling.  A man with his preteen kids came huffing up.  He was suffering miserably.  Later when they passed me going down, he said "Only a bit farther" and one of his little girls said "You got this!"   I smiled and said "Yeah, I sure do."

I was lying.

I half crawled the last few hundred feet, too dumb stubborn to quit.  I made it, then lolled, forgetting the time.  I'd been told by this guy when nearly to the top it was only 2:15.  That didn't sink in properly.  I had to be back in Portland to pick up the cats by 4:00 p.m.

When I saw this, my brain should have said "Forget this"

Switchback Hell





Creek at the top


Dangerous Selfie








Multnomah Falls, the top part of it anyhow.  


Yes, I was at the top of that, taken from part way down.  Yes, I said part way.
It was now time for the knee killing hike down the trail, on the fly, because, it was now almost 3:30 and I was 30 miles from Portland.  Yikes.

I got lost also, exiting too early from I84 once back in Portland and wandered strange streets funneling me towards bridges across the river into the west side.  I searched in a panic, trying to find something familiar so I could find the clinic and stay clear of the bridge funnels.   Finally, finally I crossed a street whose name was vaguely familiar, turned onto it and found another familiar street, made some "out of towner" turns and found the clinic.

Of the ten Lebanon cats fixed, seven were girls.  They tested the little black girl because she had lice, but she is negative for FIV/Felk.  I also took in three cats from an Albany location, two boys and one girl.

I returned those three, once back in Albany, but the other ten will overnight here, plus number 11, another gray, who will be fixed tomorrow at Heartland.  Time for bed for me.  And some Aleve.  Oh my gosh, I am not a mountain goat.  But today I pretended.  Tomorrow, sore muscles will herald my return to reality.

Multnomah Falls is a little under a half hour drive from Portland.  Can you believe that?  Usually I sit in my car and read the day away while waiting for cats to be fixed there. Knowing now how close the gorge trails are to the clinic, if I take more cats up and the weather is good, I'll just go there.  I was headed for the Sandy River delta park, where there are also many trails, not sure what it's actual name is, but it is north of 84 when you take exit 18.  But I met the homeless couple, and their cat who was eating breakfast on their car hood.  They suggested I take old highway 30 and enjoy some of the waterfalls.  I'm glad I ran into them and took their advice.