Imagine

 Imagine a happy, healthy woman who has no serious worries. This woman has a "normal," fulfilling life. She also has pets. She has a couple of cats who are her companions. She really loves these cats that have been with her for several years. Now imagine that one of her cats dies and, a few days later, another one disappears. Imagine how she will feel. She will be sad, of course. She might even go into a temporary state of depression, but she carries on. And she'll eventually come out of it.

Now imagine a woman who already has chronic depression. She has been depressed for several years. She takes anti-depressants that help her a little bit. She sleeps way more than she should and yet she still manages to get out of bed - eventually - so she can take care of her other pets. But, honestly, if there were no pets she would sleep a lot more. She has chronic fatigue along with her depression that makes it nearly impossible for her to do most normal things, like housework, bathing, shopping, going to medical appointments, etc. Now imagine that this woman loses not one, but two cats in the space of two weeks. One gets sick and dies. One just disappears. Imagine how this woman will feel. The mild state of depression felt by the otherwise-healthy woman will be added to the burden of this woman's chronic depression.

I haven't felt suicidal for quite some time, so that's not an issue. But damn it hurts. Ziva died a couple of weeks ago and now Himz has gone missing. Himz is a big cat - bigger than any other cat I've owned. I got him as sort of a trade for a dog. Long story. Forgive me for not going into it right now. Himz has been missing for four days. It's very unusual. 

 Before you go blaming me, let me explain that I have a cat door in my front window so cats can go in and out as they please. And I have a doggy door in my back door, and they can use that - and do - as well. Himz has used both doors and knows they're open all the time for him. I still feel guilty whenever a cat goes missing. I do believe in keeping cats indoors, but when you have several cats, a few dogs, and a job, that isn't easy to do. When I worked, I would rush home at lunch to let the dogs out. Eventually I got the doggie door so I wouldn't have to do that. But there was no way to keep the cats from using it, as well. And that's how my cats became indoor-outdoor cats. A few of them chose to stay indoors most of the time. Some of them went outdoors a lot, but came inside, too. Himz mostly stayed outside, but never ventured too far from the front of the house. He was extremely affectionate. When he came inside he liked to sit on my lap in front of the TV. A wonderful cat.

I hope he comes back. 🙏

Sue

UPDATE: Himz came back yesterday. He seemed a little confused, which makes me wonder where he was. But he's home now and doing great!!! ❤️

I'm Down To Nine Cats, Now

 Ziva, one of my black cats, passed away overnight last night. I found her this morning on the floor of the TV room. I knew it was coming. She was getting worse and worse as days passed. She was so thin. I kept buying canned food to encourage her to eat more. She'd eat dry food, but liked canned food much better. What cat doesn't? How old was she? I don't know. I've had so many cats and my memory is deteriorating so that keeping track is something I can't do mentally. A while back I created a list on my computer of all the cats I accepted responsibility for, including some strays and ferals. That list now has more dead and/or missing cats listed than live cats. A while back I got so sick of myself for what almost amounted to cat-hoarding that I vowed never to "adopt" another cat. And I haven't. Ziva was always a small cat and, in 2018 or 2019, gave birth to three sons, one of which was killed when he wandered into the neighbor's backyard full of dogs. I still have the other two.

Ziva in 2016

Although some would argue, I feel I've always been a responsible pet owner. I've taken all my pets to be spayed/neutered and vaccinated. I take the dogs in annually, but the cats not so much. I only take them to the vet when they're sick or injured. I feel bad about that, but I can't afford to take all the pets in for an annual exam, etc. (Which is another reason I'm not taking in any more cats.) My cats were indoor cats until a few years ago when I put in a doggie door so the dogs could go outside to poo whenever they needed too, and I wouldn't have to make a mad dash home at lunchtime to let them out. I still feel that cats should be indoor, only. That makes me a hypocrite, I know. 

As I do with all of my pets, I'll take Ziva to be cremated and I'll keep her ashes. I hope to have all my pet cremains interred with me when it's my time. I'll find a place where that's allowed. I think it's allowed in most places now, but I want to be interred in a veterans cemetery. 

Not much else going on. I'm just trying to avoid the horrible heat that is Texas in the summer. And procrastinating the thing that I keep telling myself I actually want to do. And I suppose, way back in the corners of my mind I do want to do them (exercise, clean, etc.).

I started an Etsy shop because I realized there were things I could sell that I could create on my computer and offer for downloading. Things like printable stationery, some forms, and even a little artwork. Visit me and buy something (so I can pay for Ziva's cremation). I'm here: Suze Stationery. I plan to add more stuff, but again I procrastinate. If there's something you might want that I could create, let me know.

My shower floor is falling down. I have no better way to describe it. The last time I showered I notice the floor was detaching from the wall on one side. So I've stopped showering and called my insurance company. If they don't pay to fix it I'm going to have to take baths from now on. They've assigned me a case number which, I think, means they're going to pay for it.

UPDATE: June 23, 20222

My insurance will not pay for my damaged shower. They didn't even send out an inspector to see what the problem was. They told me it was mold and and old leak, but there's no fucking way they could know that. I'm going to contact someone more important than my agent and complain forcefully. 

The good news, maybe, is that I checked the paperwork for my home appliance insurance and it does say something in there about covering indoor plumbing and damage. So I've submitted a claim but haven't heard from them. I'm going to wait a few days and resubmit.

Cheers,

Sue

F*ck Everything!

Yesterday was my birthday. Two people I know wished me a happy birthday - my brother and a former boyfriend. My brother sent me a card and wished me a happy birthday on Facebook, while the former boyfriend was only on Facebook. One stranger on Google+ wished me a happy birthday. I got some birthday acknowledgements from people who want my business or my money, or both. Those don't count. Silk sent me a $1.00 coupon which is actually very much appreciated, since I buy a lot of Silk Soymilk. (I quit buying cow's milk and started buying soy milk mostly because the soy milk lasts much longer in the refrigerator.) My mom has dementia and/or alzheimers (I'm not sure there's a difference), so she doesn't have to remember my birthday, and I don't expect her to. She did, though. She called me two days before my birthday and said she knew I had a birthday but couldn't remember the day. People forgetting my birthday hurts a little, but that's not why I feel the way I do.

There are days when I neglect to take my meds. If I do that two or three (or more) days in a row I get very angry and extremely short-tempered. I don't exactly "forget" to take my meds. I say that I "neglect" to take them, instead. I'll think about it and think that "this isn't really a good time," because it's too close to bedtime or something like that, and I'll skip the meds until it's a better time. But then I'll forget until later, when it's not a good time again. On and on it goes until I've skipped my meds for a few days and I'm ready to start killing cats. I haven't killed any cats as a result of skipping meds, but that's probably an accident.

I have a lot of cats, and they often annoy me to a breaking point. A few of them spray urine everywhere. I've had it on my computer, my coffee maker, up on the kitchen counter, all over walls and cabinets - everywhere - and it makes me want to scream when I am well medicated. When I've been off my meds it makes me want to kill them. Literally.

So I've been off my meds for a few days (took some a couple of hours ago) and it was my birthday and I'm out of money (like every month at this time), and my house is a mess and my yards need to be mowed. So F*uck Everything!

I'm sick of people. I'm really, really sick of people. I've all but given up Facebook for the last couple of weeks. I post things that are important to me and a vast majority of the time they go ignored by people who are my "friends." No they're not. They're "Facebook friends," which is a term that does not mean anywhere near the same thing as "friends," and which needs to be changed. Let's call them "Facebook connections." You can't ask for a favor. You can't ask to borrow money. You wouldn't expect them to help you move. You could pour your heart out to them, but they would only be confused, wondering why you're pouring your heart out to them. Did you possibly confuse them for someone else?

I'm a loner. I've evolved this way mostly by accident, but it suits me. I don't feel there's a person in the world who I'd want to "hang out" with. There's no one around for thousands of miles who shares my thoughts, ideas, definitions, etc. I have had people I've called friends in my past, but the Army always interfered and sent us off in separate directions. And since I retired in 1993, I've had no one I could honestly call a friend. That's okay. I'm not lonely. My dogs and cats (yes, the cats, too) provide me with any companionship I might need, and I don't have to compromise. I'd have to do that with any human companions - compromise. I'm not sure I could. When you reach your 60's and you've been alone for many years, you tend to not want to compromise with anyone about anything. Oh, the little things don't matter, like what to eat for dinner. But when it comes to big things like the color of the house (inside or out) or how many pets to have, I want my way. I guess this is more of a partner issue than a friend issue. Although, if I painted my house moss green and my friend hated it, that could be a problem, depending on how she/he handled her/his opinion.

Enough about my mood. I'll take my meds for the next few days and I'll feel fine. Yay for chemistry!

Life Still Sucks, But In An Interesting Way

The bank sent me a letter. They do that often because, in their opinion, I use my overdraft protection far too much. They've been sending me letters telling me there are better ways to "borrow" money. Yeah. I know that. But most people who lend you money generally want you to have a good credit score. They want some assurance they'll actually get their money back. My credit score is not good, so these people tell me "no" and then have a good laugh when I leave their offices.

This letter was different. It said, basically, "you're cut off." They're taking my overdraft protection away. I'm not angry or surprised. Frankly, I wondered why they hadn't done it sooner, if it had always been an option.

Ultimately this will be a good thing for me. I mean, it's money I have to "pay back" every month, so there's no outstanding balance like with credit. And each time I "dip into" the overdraft protection I am charged a fee, which only adds to my monthly deficit. Again, this is money they take from me and which is paid back each month. So technically, I can get along without overdraft protection, and now I'm going to have to try even harder to do so. The good news is it will be cheaper for me because there will be no more overdraft fees. The bad news is that there will be "insufficient fund" fees if/when a check bounces.

I'm going to go in to see the people in this very same bank about getting one of the loans they have urged me to get. The easiest one should be an account based on the equity in my home, and that will mean a very low interest rate. I still expect them to say "no" and laugh at me, though, because my credit score is so low.

I'm also planning a yard sale. I have a bunch of stuff that's worth money, and a lot of it I don't even use.

The cat situation in my home is becoming unbearably stressful for me. A few nights ago I broke up a cat fight between two of my "pet" cats. I did so without thinking and without gloves. That resulted in a couple of fairly deep and serious bites to my right hand. I know that cat bites are notoriously bad due to the sharpness of their teeth combined with the bacteria in their mouths. For this reason it's always a good idea to go straight to the hospital whenever you suffer a cat bite. I didn't. Several of my Facebook friends are angry about that. My hand swelled, and is still swollen, but feels like the swelling is going down. And I thoroughly cleaned the bites with hydrogen peroxide and have been keeping them clean and, until a few hours ago, bandaged. The bites are drying up and scabbing, which means they're not infected. As long as it doesn't get any worse, I'm not going to see the doctor. I'm sure they'll want to put me on strong antibiotics, which I don't mind, but they'd probably be of the IV type, and that would require either a stay in the hospital or a visit every eight hours for the duration of the treatment. No thanks.

Besides this fight & bite incident, I had a minor meltdown a couple of weeks ago. I have at least three - possibly more - cats that spray urine to mark territory. A couple of them want to climb up on counters and table tops and spray things you definitely do not want sprayed. I mean, no one wants anything to be urine sprayed by cats, but there are things that are not so bad, like walls, which can be easily cleaned, and there are things that are very bad, like the clean dishes in the dish rack, and the toaster oven, and the coffee maker, and anything that isn't easily cleanable. And this was what was happening in my house. I have gone so far as to tape protective pads (puppy potty training pads) to many items in order to protect them: my computer, monitor, and peripherals; countertop appliances; televisions (when not in use); and more. This is drastic and somewhat disgusting, but it has saved me some serious stress. But when I had my meltdown it was because someone had sprayed the coffee maker before I could get the protective pad in place. It was nearly the straw that broke the camel's back, and I was about ready to get out my gun and start "euthanizing" all the cats in my home.

"Get rid of the cats," you suggest. Yeah. Easier said than done, unless you just don't care about cats. And if that were true, I wouldn't be in this situation to begin with. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a home for an adult cat - even a neutered and vaccinated adult cat? It's very difficult. And I didn't take in these animals just to turn them over to someone who will euthanize them. I have put an ad up on a local Facebook page for pet adoptions, and I'm willing to give up most of the cats that are now in my care. But like I said, there are not many people who want adult cats.

My sweet cousin sent me a book called Cat vs. Cat, which I have not yet read but which I intend to very soon. She hopes it will help me with the problems I'm having. I hope so, too, but I confess that I'm not very optimistic. I've researched some of the problems I'm having and have not yet found the answers. But like I said, I have not yet read the book. I suppose the easiest "fix" would be to find a way to keep the cats off the counters and tabletops. Anyone know how to do that? Please don't tell me to put tape on the countertops unless you can tell me a way to keep it on the countertops. I want to annoy the cats, but I don't want the tape to come off the counter and stick to them.

My car has been causing its occasional routine and not-very-expensive-thank-God problems. First I had a blowout while driving to see one of my favorite authors who was appearing in a bookstore about a hundred miles from my home. While changing my tire I discovered that the spare, which was 16-years old (as old as the car), had shredded in my trunk. So I had to call a tow truck to take me and my car home and then I had to buy a new tire and a new spare. My spare is one of those little "doughnut" spares, which is smaller than a regular tire and requires you to drive no faster than about 50 miles per hour for as long as you're driving on it. It also costs more than a regular tire.

I missed seeing the author I'd wanted to see, but I did managed to get a autographed copy of the book he was trumpeting by arranging it with the wonderful people at the bookstore.

I'm his personal idol! Wow!

About two weeks after the tire incident my relatively new battery died and I had to replace it. I say "relatively new" because it was only two years old, and other batteries I'd had lasted at least five years. I didn't get a free replacement from the store where I bought it, but I got a discount. Same type of battery, though, which means it'll probably last just another two years. Texas heat takes a real toll on car batteries. And I don't have any shade over my driveway, so my car is parked in direct sunlight most of the time.

I had to have another beloved dog put down. He was so sick, and having such a hard time getting around. Roscoe came into my life as an adult stray. I'm not exactly sure when I took him in, but I know it was at least 2004. So he was at least ten years old. He was a basset mix. He'd been a stray in my neighborhood for about two weeks when I put him in my backyard and called animal control to come and get him. Needless to say, they never did. He became a member of my family and was a wonderful addition. He got along with all the dogs and cats, and was housebroken. It took him a short time to get used to using the doggy door because of the clicking sound it made when he went through. For some reason he was spooked by loud noises. But he soon got to be a pro! He went to be with Rosie at the Rainbow Bridge on February 26th - just one week after the anniversary of Rosie's passing.

My butt's getting a little sore because I've been sitting here for awhile, so I'm going to quit for now.

Peace, love, and umbrella hats.

Charlie the Dog

For the past week I've been fostering a dog that I thought I might adopt. I can't adopt him, though, because he wants to kill my cats. Because of this, I've had to keep him tethered constantly - indoors and out. Well, indoors and mostly outdoors. When I take him into the backyard to pee, I let him off the leash, but only after making sure there are no cats out there that he can catch. There have been a few close calls, and my cats are extremely frightened and terribly unhappy. I, on the other hand, am extremely stressed. Charlie will go back to animal control soon, but I've been promised he won't be put down because he's been vaccinated and neutered. Charlie is a shar-pei, by the way.

Charlie used to belong to my neighbors - the ones who live in the house behind mine. He was a backyard dog for a few years. He was neglected - put in the backyard to be a pet and left there, alone for most of those years. I never saw the family do anything with him - no playing or visiting. For awhile they even neglected to feed him. He was dangerously thin.  I had to call Animal Control to get them to feed him.

A few weeks ago Charlie and his companion, Rebel, a wire-haired terrier, got out of the backyard and were roaming around the neighborhood. Animal Control picked them up. The neighbors knew that Animal Control had the dogs but decided not to go get them. Charlie and Rebel were marked for euthanization.

Someone rescued Rebel. She took Rebel in as a foster. But Charlie is a big dog and people don't often adopt big, older dogs. So I did. I knew Charlie was a great dog, but I also knew he might be a threat to my cats. So I asked Animal Control before I took him if it was okay to bring him back if it didn't work out. Jessica, who works at Animal Control, said yes. And after Charlie was vaccinated and neutered, she promised me he wouldn't be euthanized. I was right. Charlie wants to kill cats. As I said, there have been a few close calls, so I'm being very careful now. Charlie is with me in the house, and he's tethered to something so he can't get at the cats. The cats have learned that he's dangerous, but they also have learned that, when he's tethered, he can only go so far.

So here I sit, listening to Charlie bark at one of my cats, stressed out (me and the cat) and hoping someone will step up and offer to foster him. Someone will, eventually.

Wednesday Update

I finally found the lifeless corpse of my blue crawfish. It was in one of the cats' litter boxes, of all places. It hadn't been eaten, swallowed, and pooped out, if that's what you're thinking. No. It had been carried in there, for some reason. I guess I was right in thinking that it climbed out of the tank and was then discovered by one or more of the cats. I hope there's a crawfish heaven and that he's/she's at peace. (I don't honestly know if it was male or female, but I'm leaning toward female because of descriptions I've read on the web.) Now that I know for sure it isn't hiding in the tank somewhere, I can use the tank for something else. Maybe a betta. Maybe a half-dozen tiny fish of some sort.

I don't drink a lot of alcohol, but I was curious when I saw an advertisement about whipped cream-flavored vodka. I wondered how that would taste in a white russian. I bought some of the vodka as well as some Kahlua. I didn't buy any cream, or half-and-half. I have tried the vodka straight, and I have had a black russian. Both were incredibly sweet. Tomorrow I will get some half-and-half and finally try a white russian. I hope the half-and-half tones down the sweetness a bit.

I got the cats a catnip toy. This is a larger-than-normal cat toy and holds a lot of catnip. So far only two of my cats have been interested in it. Both are my senior cats, each about 10 years old. For some reason the younger cats aren't interested. I wonder if that's common.

Dexter

Dexter has finally gone to the vet to be neutered and vaccinated. I couldn't really afford it and still can't, but he came home with a swollen eye (lid), so I figured I'd better take him to be seen. I made a deal with the vet to get Dexter neutered and vaccinated, and then to put him up for adoption. Hopefully someone will want him. He's a sweet cat, solid white, and not quite a year old.

Now I need to see if the vet will do the same thing for Mister Eko. He's a solid black cat that has made my home his.

Not Mickey or Minnie

I have just discovered that mice have been partying in my furniture. I have a dresser that I painted and use for storage in my dining room. Today I was looking for something and found lots and lots of mouse droppings in one of the drawers. Yuck. I knew I had mice in the house. The cats have been helping to keep the numbers down. But I had no idea there was a party going on in the dresser. Fortunately, the stuff in that drawer wasn't too important, so everything that got peed on went in the garbage. And I pulled up the liner and threw that away. Then I sprayed the whole drawer with Clorox Clean-up and wiped it out. While I've already checked a couple of the other drawers, I'm procrastinating looking in others. But I will. So far the drawers I have checked had some mouse droppings, but nothing like the party drawer. The drawers I haven't yet checked are the two large drawers in the bottom of the dresser. I expect at least one of them to possibly be another party drawer. We'll see.

Sleeping 30+ Hours

I did it. I slept over 30 hours straight. (Well, except for getting up to pee.)

With this "chronic fatigue" that I have been experiencing I keep telling people that I'm sure I could sleep for 24 hours if I didn't have to get up and feed the dogs and cats. Now I know that's true. The dogs and cats had plenty of food and water, and I'm having a three-day weekend, so I decided to sleep the whole first day. I went to bed Saturday night and slept until Monday morning.

I don't recommend it.

It was no problem sleeping. I never once woke up and felt like I'd had enough sleep, so I'd just get up and use the bathroom when I had to and then go back to sleep. That is the essence of this affliction. I never feel like I've gotten enough sleep.

I got up at 9:00 Monday morning and I felt lousy. I suppose it was the lack of food and water, mainly. I felt like I was only about 75% there. It took some time before I felt normal. About four or five hours. I ate, drank, watched TV, got on the computer. Now it's just about 3:00 p.m. and I feel fine. I've just had an energy shot ("5-hour energy" shot) and I'm going to go out in a minute and mow the lawn.

Incidently, I could have slept longer.
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