Every (Kitty) Picture Tells a Story 2/20/20

This? Is not a photo of Olivia.

This? Is Cocoa, another one of Mom's cats.

She's pretty young--most likely between two and three years old--and is the closest to feral of all of Mom's cats.

She was tricked into coming into the house (with the offer of food as the lure) and had to be kept from running back out into the yard (which she managed to do a couple of times anyway, only to be lured back into the house later with the promise of food--stupid cat).

She's very skittish--will not be picked up or held, nor will she sit in your lap or come when called.

She will, however, sit on the back of the couch and allow herself to be petted. Her fur is, as you'd imagine, very soft.

And? She's absolutely devoted to Moose, for some reason. He seems indifferent to her attentions at best (and hostile at worst), yet she cuddles up with him whenever possible. They can often be found together in the cardboard box just outside the bathroom.

Every Picture Tells a Story 2/25/19

Olivia, bashing in the sun in the window at the old La Casa del Terror.

This Bird Has Flown

Olivia is gone.

She went quietly and quickly, in a small veterinary hospital near Mom's house. They'd never seen Olivia before, but they treated us both with kindness and dignity. The vet examined her briefly, then asked what I'd like to do--should they try to treat her, or should I let her go? I was surprised that they'd given me the option, considering her condition when I brought her in: Nonresponsive, barely conscious, hadn't eaten in a couple of days and couldn't stand on her own. Still, I suppose it's a question that must be asked--there are a lot of pet parents out there who will fight to their dog/cat's last breath for their survival. I've been there myself, with Ms. Christopher.

I knew coming in what needed to be done, though. My little bird had been through enough. Enough pills. Enough shots. Enough poking and prodding. It was time to let her go.

Don't mourn too much for Olivia. She made it six years past her diagnosis with chronic kidney disease. And? For the least three years--since I had my heart attacks in June 2015--she had been entirely untreated for her CKD. (If I'm being absolutely honest, I didn't even remember having treated her for CKD until much, MUCH later--after I'd lost La Casa del Terror and all of her medical supplies and fluids.) My brother deserves much of the credit for that--the fact that he was home all day to keep an eye on her certainly helped keep her steady, and I could often hear her running back and forth through the apartment upstairs.

Now? The upstairs is silent. Mom's cats downstairs all stayed close to me Monday night and through the day yesterday, which I took off from work because of a chest cold coming on. (Snurfle.) One of them, Cocoa, is a dead ringer for a younger, healthier Olivia, and has the same incredibly soft fur. She doesn't really like people--Mom had to trick her into coming into the house, and she spent the first few months trying to sneak back out.

But last night? She sat on the couch behind me, letting me stroke her fur and scratch her chin.

Cats are empathetic creatures. They know when someone is sad. Even when they don't really want anything to do with you at all.

I had always hoped that, when I moved out of Mom's and lived on my own again, Olivia would come with me, that we'd spend the rest of her years together. That wasn't meant to be. Even if she hadn't declined so rapidly, my brother told me that Olivia would have to stay behind, that she needed someone home all day to keep an eye on her.

But now she's at rest. Her fight is over. And, given how long she lived on after I thought I'd have to say goodbye, she deserves her rest.

Goodbye, Baby Bird.

An Update on Olivia

It's been a while since I've posted an update on Olivia, my calico kitty who, about six years ago, was diagnosed with CKD--Chronic Kidney Disease (also known, somewhat alarmingly, as Renal Failure). The last time I mentioned her disease, it was well under control with a combination of fluids, medications and gravy-intensive cat food.

Then? I had a heart attack. A couple, actually. On the same day.

I would up in the hospital for several weeks, during which time Olivia went to live with my brother in the apartment above Mom's living space. She's lived there ever since, mostly because she hates other cats and would have been in perpetual warfare with the other kitties Mom has roaming her house.

I missed not seeing Olivia on a daily basis, but was comforted by the fact that she was doing well--better, in fact, than she'd done with me. She was no longer receiving medications or fluids for her CKD, yet she was thriving. She actually put on weight for a while. My brother would look her dead in the eyes and say, "You're fat!" To which Olivia would reply as she always replied: "Mauw!"

Now, though, she's not doing so well. Her appetite is off, and she's losing weight. She was never a big kitty to begin with, but now she's light as a feather when picked up. And my brother, who never wanted her upstairs in the first place? He's worried sick about her.

So this morning, I have to make an appointment to take Olivia to the vet. I don't know what the results will be, though it's probably safe to assume that her CKD is back with a vengeance. I don't know what will happen--or even if she'll be coming home again.

Please keep Olivia in your thoughts this weekend.

Every Picture Tells a Story 5/15/15

Olivia is not judging you.

Nope. Not at all.

(And by "not at all," I mean "totally.")

Every Picture Tells a Story 5/8/15

Happy Birthday, Olivia!

She celebrates her 11th birthday today. (Who am I kidding? She's resting her head on an action figure--that's my girl! I'm the one who's celebrating!)

Every Picture Tells a Story 3/12/15

Olivia's not judging you. No. Not at all.

Every Picture Tells a Story 2/13/15

Every Picture Tells a Story 1/30/15

Tired of looking at winter photos? Me too. Instead, enjoy this shot of Olivia doing "pretty kitty" tricks on the couch.

Every Picture Tells a Story 1/16/15

Olivia was having an energetic, feisty night when I took this picture of her in her cardboard box in the hall (one of her preferred sleeping spots in winter, since the floors are so warm).

Merry Christmas!

Olivia naps beneath the lights of Grandma's Christmas tree, but I'm pretty sure those aren't sugarplum faeries dancing in her head--li'l fishies or catnip balls, maybe, but not sugarplum faeries.

I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas Day, no matter how you choose to spend it.

Every Picture Tells a Story 11/5/14

Olivia says "Hi!" (Actually, she says "MeeeeeOOOOOOOwwww!" You know what she means.)

Every Picture Tells a Story 9/5/14

Olivia wishes you a happy Friday--so you damn well better have one.

Every Picture Tells a Story 8/20/14

Olivia wants to know what you think you're doing.

Every Picture Tells a Story 8/11/14

It's Monday, you say? Olivia is not impressed.

Every Picture Tells a Story 6/2/14

Olivia wants to know what you're doing.

Every Picture Tells a Story 4/25/14

What better way to end the week than with a cute kitty picture. And is any kitty cuter than Olivia tucked into a box that's way to small for her? I don't think so.

Every Picture Tells a Story 2/28/14

How should you end this cold, miserable month? With a cute kitty picture, that's how!

Every Picture Tells a Story 1/8/14

The lovely Ms. Olivia, enjoying the sun despite the cold.