Happy Birthday to Achilles

He turned six years old yesterday and got a new collar and a sock monkey. He was very excited. Then he promptly forgot all about the sock monkey and left it on the bed. Kerrigan has been playing with it ever since.

I can't believe my puppy is already six years old!

Things I am enjoying lately:

Josie Maran's Argan Oil and Argan Oil Moisturizing Stick. You can use this stuff anywhere -- hair, face, cuticles, knees, elbows, feet, lips, wherever. I've been using the oil in my hair and the stick on my cuticles with awesome results.

The cooler weather we've been having this week. 80s in the daytime and low 60s at night. So much better than triple-digit temps during the day and 90s at night! Autumn is my favorite season and I love nothing better than snuggling up under the covers on a cool fall night. I can't wait for the temps to drop another 10 or 20 degrees.

All-American Rejects. In addition to the song in my previous post, I'm also liking this one, among others:



Having my favorite t.v. shows back for the new fall season: House, Bones, Glee, and especially Fringe. And a new show, The Event, which I'm really liking so far (only two episodes have aired).

Things I am not enjoying so much lately:

The sleep deficit I've accumulated over the past several weeks.

Telemarketers.

Traffic.

Gives You Hell - All American Rejects

This is the latest song that I keep playing over and over and over again. (No hidden meaning here; this isn't a song about what's going on in my life. I just think it's catchy.)

Niko

April 1999 ~ September 4, 2010

Niko was born in my living room on an April morning in 1999. In February of that year, we had adopted two cats from a feral litter that had been born in our yard the previous spring. Unbeknownst to us when we took them in, they were both pregnant. Miss Garbo had her litter first, at the end of March. Arabelle had hers five days later. I walked downstairs one morning and she was in the corner by the rocking chair. Barney had already been born, and Niko was halfway out. Kerrigan would follow him.

At first we called Niko "Baby Belle" because he was solid black just like his mama. We later realized that he had some, um, parts that Arabelle didn't have, so we had to choose a boy's name for him. Matt named him Nicodemus. As a baby, Niko was round like a little bowling ball, and he pretty much stayed that way throughout his life. He had the sweetest, most open face of any cat I have ever seen, and he had the disposition to go with it.



When the kittens were about eight months old, we had to segregate the boys until we could get them neutered, for fear of having a hundred more kittens in the house. Since there were only three boys, we kept them shut up in the bedroom for a few weeks until we were able to take them to the vet to get snipped. They handled their jail term pretty well, and it helped that I spoiled them with lots of extra canned food and treats, but Niko still wanted out. He became quite the little Houdini, always finding new ways of escaping from the bedroom. We started calling him Nikodini.

He could be a mischievous little thing, but he was a sweetheart. He never fought with any of the other kitties until suddenly, at the age of nine or so, he decided out of the blue that he didn't like his cousin Oliver any more. I have no idea what Oliver did to him, as Ollie is also a sweet, sweet teddy bear of a boy. But suddenly one day, Niko couldn't stand Oliver. Any time Ollie would get within a few feet of him, Niko would start hissing and growling, and poor Ollie always looked confused.

Aside from his issue with Oliver, Niko loved to snuggle up for naps with the other kitties, and he loved to sit in my lap. I loved to watch him sleep because he would usually roll over on his back with his big, round belly in the air. One of his many nicknames was "Buddha Belly."



His fat little belly would swing from side to side when he ran, and it always cracked me up. He also had the sweetest little kitty snore when he was sleeping, and he usually snuggled up with me at night. His fur was very sleek, shiny, and soft, and I loved to pet him.

While most cats, of course, love treats like tuna and chicken, Niko had a bit of a quirky appetite. His favorite thing in the world was oatmeal. I could never eat a bowl of oatmeal without spending the entire meal fending him off with one hand while guarding my bowl with the other. I'd leave a little bit in the bottom of the bowl for him when I was done, and he would gobble it up like nobody's business. He had a similar affection for pudding and ice cream.

Niko always became very concerned whenever I sneezed. He would come running from wherever he was in the house when he heard me sneeze, crying all the way until he saw that I was all right. He also had a habit of getting caught up in empty shopping bags -- we called it his "kitty in the bag trick." He would stick his head through the handles of the bag and get it caught around his neck, then run like hell all through the house with the bag flapping behind him like a superhero cape. Eventually he'd collapse, exhausted, usually under the bed or in a corner and I'd approach him to remove the bag. He always seemed very embarrassed about the whole thing.

Even during the last year and a half or so of his life, when he was sick (though I didn't realize how sick he was), he remained a sweet, lovey boy. He became a little bit more reclusive, finding new hiding places to hole up in from time to time, but he still liked to sit with me, snuggle up with me at night, and hang out with me while I watched t.v. or used the computer.

I miss his sweet face and his gentle personality. He was a very, very special kitty.

Amos

July 1993 ~ September 3, 2010

Amos began his life in my parents' garbage can one July day in 1993. My younger brother was leaving for work that morning and heard some tiny cries. Upon investigation, he found three baby kittens in the garbage can, apparently abandoned by their mother right after birth. One was already dead, and Tim took the other two over to the duplex that Steve and I shared at the time. Steve immediately took both kittens to the vet and we began bottle-raising them. They had to be fed every four hours.

At first we kept them in a box in Steve's bedroom with a lamp over it for warmth. We were worried about how my dog, Alex, would react to them, but her motherly instincts kicked in right away. She was fiercely protective of them and would sit next to their box watching them for hours.

Sadly, one of the babies died shortly thereafter -- it couldn't have been more than a few days or so -- and Amos was left with no siblings.



Amos would flail his little limbs about while being bottle-fed, and one day before his eyes were even open yet, he managed to hook a claw into his left eye. It got horribly infected and the vet initially said it would have to be removed. Thankfully, the eye was saved, but the outer eyelid did have to be removed and Amos was never able to see out of that eye. The vet thought that maybe he could see a bit of light and shadow, but nothing else.

Alex helped him out when it was time for him to start walking. She taught him how to walk by scooting him along the carpet with her nose.



Like a worried mama, she kept a close eye on his progress.



He later had some difficulty making the transition from the bottle to solid food. He became very ill and Steve and I had to rush him to the emergency animal hospital late one night. The doctor there advised us not to waste our money because Amos wasn't going to make it through the night, but Steve insisted that they do everything they could to try to save him. Amos made it through the night and we took him to our regular vet the next morning. I remember that he had an IV catheter sticking out of his neck for a few days, but he began to thrive. Due to his illness, he lost all of his fur temporarily. I was surprised to see that his skin had the same color pattern as his fur did. Though he was completely bald, his skin was pink with grey splotches. Little bald Amos was soon eating solid food like a champ and turned into quite the little butterball (and eventually grew his fur back).

He developed a water-drinking trick to make up for his lack of depth perception due to his bad eye. He'd dip his paw in the water bowl and then drink the water out of his paw. He also enjoyed drinking from the faucet and even figured out how to turn the faucet on by bonking his head against it.

A couple years later, he had to have one of his hind toes removed. It had a slight deformity that caused his claw to grow back around and dig itself into the toe, which was causing him pain and infections. By this time, Amos hated the vet with the fire of ten thousand suns. When the vet called me to tell me that the surgery was over, she said, "He's awake and he's angry." When I arrived to pick him up, the receptionist announced, "Hey, everybody, this is Amos's mommy!" and then they took me to the kennel area in the back rather than bringing him out to me. He was inside his carrier, with a towel draped over it, and the carrier was locked inside a kennel cage. And he was yowling like a demon. They opened the cage and I retrieved the carrier. It was mid-December, and they had a plate of Christmas cookies on a table in the back. As I made my way out with Amos in his carrier, one of the vet techs said, "Here, take a cookie. You'll need it."

When I got him home, I took his carrier upstairs and opened the door. He tried to bolt out of the carrier and ended up banging his bandaged foot against the side. That cat let out a howl like I've never heard before or since. He made his way to the doorway of the bedroom and yowled and hissed, growling at me when I came near him and effectively trapping me in the room. Poor little Amos. Eventually he calmed down, and his foot healed, but that was the beginning of his bad reputation.

Amos loved his people. He loved to be held and carried around the house by me, Steve, or Matt. He would hang on to our shoulders while we toted him around so that we barely had to hang onto him. When I was sitting at my computer or on the couch, he'd climb up onto my shoulder and sit on the back of my neck. But he hated pretty much everyone who wasn't us, with the exception of my mom. When she came over to visit, he'd jump into her lap. If anyone else came over, he'd attack, yowling and hissing and in at least one case, throwing himself at them in a rage. He was the sweetest boy in the world for his people, but everyone else was terrified of him. It was comical that such a little guy with one good eye and a missing toe could strike such fear into people.

For future vet visits, he had to be tranquilized. They would truss him up like Hannibal Lecter, putting him into a small duffel bag-type thing with a drawstring that tied around his neck and a little mask over his face. Once they tried tossing some pheromones into his carrier. That was supposed to calm him down, but it only made him more angry. They asked that for future visits, we sedate him at home before bringing him in.

I will always remember him as my sweet little guy, despite his Jekyll and Hyde tendencies, though.



Like Niko, Amos also had a unique appetite. He once jumped into my lap while I was eating a NutriGrain bar and took a big bite out of it as though it were a perfectly normal thing for a cat to eat. He had a strong preference for crunchy, salty foods such as Chex Mix, which he would gobble up like a fiend, tortilla chips, and crackers.

As he got older, he developed a bit of arthritis and moved a bit more slowly, but he was still my constant shadow. He would follow me from room to room and would always snuggle up with me at night. In his later days, I'd notice him following me and would pick him up and carry him with me because I felt so bad that he was moving so slowly, obviously not having such an easy time getting around any more, but still wanting to be wherever I was.

On my desk I have a framed photo of Steve snoozing on the couch at the duplex while Amos, at maybe six months old, sits on his chest. I like to think they are back together again now. I will miss them both forever.

Sad update

My computer has been on the fritz for a few weeks and was in the shop for the past six days, but I got it back today with a sweet new hard drive, so it's time for an update. Unfortunately, it's not a happy update.

I had to say goodbye to both Amos and Niko nearly two weeks ago -- Amos on September 3rd and Niko on September 4th.

Amos had been improving for about a week after he saw the vet and I started giving him daily subcutaneous fluids, but then he crashed again very quickly. On the morning of August 30th, he seemed fine. That evening, he was suddenly unable to stand or walk without immediately falling over. I found him collapsed in the litter box and when I picked him up, he peed all over himself. I set him up in a makeshift bed next to my bed that night and later found him lying halfway in the water dish I'd placed nearby. However, he somehow managed to climb up onto my bed overnight and snuggled up with me. I took him to the vet the next morning and he was hospitalized for two days. They performed various tests, including an ultrasound, but were unable to determine what was wrong with him. They suspected cancer of the bone marrow. I brought him home the evening of September 1st but it became apparent that he was not going to get better. He could barely walk and wouldn't eat, so two days later I made the incredibly difficult decision to have him put down. He went very peacefully and was in my lap until the end. It broke my heart to lose him after 17 years, but I know it was the right thing to do for him. I miss him very much.

Losing Niko came as more of a surprise since he was only 11 years old. He'd been suffering from a chronic autoimmune infection in his mouth for over a year, for which he was given a daily dose of steroids. He also, of course, was hit by the intestinal infection that so many of my kitties went through last month. He had seemed to recover from that and he had a vet appointment the morning of September 3rd just to re-check his mouth. We'd recently reduced his steroid dose to every other day and the vet just wanted to see if it was working. I'd noticed that after we reduced the dose, he'd started having difficulty eating again. He'd chew very slowly and loudly -- it was almost painful to listen to him eat. He'd also been acting lethargic and was hiding out more and being less sociable, but I chalked that up to the intestinal infection and his mouth hurting him. I figured we just needed to go back to the daily steroid dose and he'd be fine.

Unfortunately, that was not the case. His mouth was fine. The infection had cleared up. However, the vet noticed that he was very jaundiced and dehydrated and he was hospitalized for the day so she could do some tests. His blood work was fine, but a urinalysis revealed diabetes and an ultrasound revealed multiple problems that he'd apparently had for some time but that were exacerbated by the intestinal infection. He had stones in his bladder and kidneys and a very serious intestinal issue that was probably related to the autoimmune infection he'd had in his mouth. The vet said it had probably affected his entire GI tract. I'd noticed that he'd had chronic diarrhea ever since the oral infection was diagnosed, but I thought it was being caused by the steroids. Apparently, it was not -- it was all part of the autoimmune disease.

Being on the steroids for so long had caused the diabetes, and the major problem was that he couldn't be treated for both the intestinal disease and the diabetes because steroids to treat the intestinal disease would render insulin for the diabetes ineffective. If one problem was treated, the other would get worse. Also, he'd already been on steroids for over a year so it was evident that they wouldn't help his intestinal disease, anyway.

The vet said that he was in a lot of pain and would only get worse. I didn't want to put him through a long, slow, painful decline, so after Amos was put down that afternoon, I took Niko home for the night and then brought him back the next morning. I talked it over with the vet again and told her that I didn't want to put him down if he still had some good time left, but that I didn't want him to be in pain or suffering. She told me that if Niko could talk, he would tell me that he was ready to go and that it was the kindest thing I could do for him. Like Amos, he went very peacefully while lying in my lap.

This afternoon I picked up their ashes from the vet's office, together with little clay imprints of their paws. Then I cried all over again.

Amos and Niko both deserve their own memorial posts, which I will do this weekend. They were such sweet boys and I miss them so much.