On My Own

Tom's on a business trip this week.  I've been dreading this.  As it is, I usually spend most of the day inside the house taking care of Sly, cleaning, and grading papers for my very-part-time job...and by the time Tom arrives home from work, I am desperate for his company and a change of pace.  I didn't think I would survive this week without knowing I would have some small relief from my typical schedule each day.  So I set about to fill up my calendar with activities.  I am babysitting my cousins-once-removed two days this week, going to a midwife appointment, eating dinner with my dad one night , tutoring one student, eating dinner with my mom one night, visiting a friend and her new baby, and eating dinner with friends one night.  Man - at least Tom going away is good for my social life.

One thing I'm not sure how I'll handle on my own, though, is the litterbox.  Perhaps one of the few things I truly love about being pregnant is that it gets me out of litter-scooping duty for nine whole months!  Now I know some people aren't that worried about toxoplasmosis, and I've heard the rumor that if you grew up with cats, you've probably been exposed to it already and aren't at risk.  But my mom grew up with cats, and got it during her pregnancy with her fourth child, putting my youngest brother in a lot of danger!  So I don't want to mess with it.

Tom tells me I should do everything possible to convince some charitable soul to come over and scoop the litter for me.  Yeah right.  I can just imagine that phone call: "heeeyyyyyyy friend, I have a really big favor to ask.  Would you be able to drive over to my house and scoop a bunch of cat crap into a bag for me?  Thanksomuch."  I'm thinking I'll probably just resort to piling more and more clean litter on top of the dirty stuff, and hoping to smother the smell.

Lost and Found

Late last night, Tom invited a handful of our friends over.  But only the men showed up.  I didn't feel up to much, and being the only female anyways, I decided to just duck out and head to bed.  The guys, though, went for a long walk around the neighborhood.  We live on a large hill, and there are many long "Pittsburgh staircases" all over the place, leading down into the streets and valleys below.  While walking down one of these with the guys, Tom had realized that our cat, Lance, was following them.  He tried to grab Lance to take him back home, but apparently the cat seemed spooked by something and - very uncharacteristically - hissed and ran off into the woods.  Tom went back to try to find him after the friends went home, but with no luck.

Lance[lot] is MY cat.  My mom and I - hopeless "cat people" both - fell in love with him in a pet store years ago.  He was the last kitten left from his litter, sick with a bad cold, and six months old already.  His price was marked down from $600 to $100 (he's a purebred Siamese) because no one wanted to buy him.  But we had to have him.  He slept with me every night while I was in high school, and anytime I was visiting from college.  Once I moved out and had my own place, I convinced my mom to give him to me.  So Lance and I go way back.

Tom went out to the stairs again a couple times today, calling for Lance, but got no response.  Lance is an extremely friendly and people-loving cat.  I've had him fourteen years now, and in that time, he has run away twice before.  On both occasions, we finally found him MONTHS later, when he had been quite contentedly living with another family!!

So when Tom told me that he ran away last night, I wasn't really worried about Lance being hurt or killed.  But I was worried about him "cheating on us" again, and finding a new home.  So I decided we needed to get up some "Missing Cat" signs ASAP.  I printed some out just this evening, put them in plastic sheet protectors, and sent Tom out to post a few around the neighborhood, and along the staircase.

Tom had only been gone about twenty minutes when I got a phone call.  A guy who lives right at the bottom of the stairs had seen my sign, and told me that he HAD LANCE!

So get this: within minutes of Lance running away  last night, he had run up to this guy and his girlfriend who were sitting  at the bottom of the stairs.  They saw that he seemed scared, so took him inside.  That's why Tom couldn't find him last night or today!  And then this evening, within minutes of Tom posting a sign right at the bottom of the stairs, the guy had gone outside again (to smoke a cigarette), seen the sign, and called me.  How crazy!  And I'm especially grateful that I made such haste with the signs, because he told me he was planning to take Lance to the Animal Rescue place TOMORROW!!

Tom went back down to pick up our little runaway (Man, my husband's been doing a lot of favors for me in this story - I need to thank him!).  I gave Lance a big hug, and of course a gentle admonishment about wanting to find a new family again.  It's good to have him back.

Kittens at Five Weeks

I can't believe the time has passed so quickly. In one more week, the kittens will be the minimum age for giving away, and it seems like they just arrived! I haven't had as much time as I've wanted to hold them, pet them, and help turn them into wonderful lap cats ("breaking their spirits", as mom would say). Mostly because during the day, "Sly the Kitten Destroyer" is awake, and I try to keep him far away from them. Sly is seriously abusive towards cats. He whacks them, pulls their fur, yanks their tails, and throws things at them. For real. It's one thing when he beats on our adult male cat, who at least sometimes stick up for himself. But he could do serious damage to the kittens.

Here's a picture of him trying to do just that...

He's tugging on its ears!

The kitties are very adventurous, running around our bedroom all the time (they still haven't ventured out of that room much, even though the door's always open). They are supposed to have started eating solid foods two weeks ago, but as far as we can tell, they still haven't even tried a bite!! It's all Iive's fault, because she's such an indulgent mother. She still nurses them as much as they like.

Aren't they getting too big for that, Iive?

So, of course, there's no incentive to try real food. I worry that we won't be able to give them new homes at this rate! We've been contemplating the idea of separating them from their mommy for a day, making them desperate enough to eat solids. But it would be tough to subject all three of them to that.

The Whole Kitten Ordeal, Part IV

...continued from the other day

Iive ("ee-vay") was ushered to a back room, and Mom and I were shown to an exam room to sit and wait for the doctor. When he eventually came (a different vet from the one who'd taken her back), he confirmed what we already knew - the only thing to do for her would be a c-section. But things were more complicated now. The remaining kittens were all surely dead, and there was no real way of knowing how long they'd been so. Changes were, some nasty infections were setting in. She would need antibiotics, and there was more risk to her life than originally thought.

At this point, I was starting to regret or decision to wait until morning to get the c-section for her. "If we had done it last night", I thought, "maybe one of those kittens could have made it!" (I've since been told that even that was unlikely, as it still would have been over 24 hours since the onset of labor.)

The vet left to put together an estimate for the surgery. A vet tech came back about 20 minutes later with an itemized list of all the procedures and equipment, and how much each part would cost us. The list was more than a page long, and had many rounds of IVs, drugs, and other little unexpected charges. The c-section ALONE was something like $708! The total projected cost was listed as $1800-$2000. WHAT?!?! If we had stuck with the vet from the night before - the one who claimed she was more expensive than most vets - our estimated cost would have been $1300. And that was already way more than we thought we could afford. Now this was really getting out of hand!!

The vet tech told us it that the increased estimate was due to the fact that things were more serious now than they had been the night before - the risk of infection made many more interventions necessary. Now I REALLY wished we had just done it before! Tom and I had already been debating whether it was worth $1300 to save the life of a cat...but at the time, we also had to consider the lives of the three unborn kittens. Now, those lives were out of the equation...

Throughout all this, I was sending texts to Tom via his work e-mail, keeping him up-to-date on what was happening. I said "$2000 is a LOT of money!! I think we might have to consider...putting her to sleep." Poor Tom. All he wanted was to be with me at the vet to help make these tough decisions, but he was stuck at work, forced to communicate by text only. He said I should ask what Iive's chance of survival was, to help us make a decision. W were still were keeping in mind the generous offer of his parents to pay half the cost, and thought maybe we'd be crazy enough to go through with it all.

The vet tech went to get the doctor again. When he came back, my mom spoke up for me immediately, "listen - this estimate is much higher than we were expecting. You know, she's considering just having the cat put to sleep." The vet - who was actually a really nice guy - seemed taken aback. "Oh," he said, "we don't want you to have to consider that option. No. Let me take another look at this and see if I can cut out some of the less necessary procedures, and change out some of the drugs for less expensive ones..."

And this is when I learned a VERY IMPORTANT LESSON about visiting the vet. They often can give you a lower price: if you ask. When the initial estimate is put together, the vet will often choose all the "best" and top-of-the-line procedures. They will assume that the pet owner wants to do anything and everything to get their pet back to health. I used to think that they were just trying to gouge the customer, and take advantage of them during an emotional time to make a lot of money. But after all my interactions with various vets recently, I've come to see that they are actually just very passionate about saving the lives of their animal patients. It's not their money, so I don't think they really consider the cost too much.

The new estimate came back - only half a page long this time - and listed the final cost as $800-1100. Still a good chunk of change, but definitely more manageable. My mom and I were studying the paper, and noticed that the c-section itself was no longer listed there. The highest individual cost for something was $266 for "feline OVH" which didn't mean anything to us. We thought there was an error, and checked with a receptionist. Nope - that one item was the cost of a feline ovarian-hysterectomy (essentially, spaying, which we wanted). Of course. Why would they charge us for a $700 c-section of dead kittens when for $200, they would achieve the exact same thing by just removing the whole uterus? Again, I don't want to assume the vet was trying to cheat us with the original figure. But I think he realized he could save us money by billing it differently.

After a few more agonizing text exchanges with Tom, we decided to go for it. Tom made me promise to see Iive one more time, just in case she didn't make it (the vet gave her a 70% of coming out of everything fine). They brought her and the kittens back out, and I snapped a few pictures.

I asked what they would do with the two kittens, while Iive had surgery and recovered. They wouldn't be able to stay with Iive, they said. They'd be kept in a separate cage, and bottle-fed. "It's going to cost more money to have you guys lodge them and care for them, isn't it?" I asked. "Yes, a bit more" was the answer. So I asked if I would be able to take them home and care for them myself. They were fine with that, and went over what I needed to do. They packed the little ones into small box, and we headed home.

Kittens cannot regulate their body temperature well, and need their environment to stay between 80° and 90°. Thankfully, it's summertime, so we don't have the cold weather working against us. But the vet still advised us to use a hot water bottle or something similar. My mom remembered that she had a product called a SnugglePuppy (she had bought it for a pet dog, but never used it). This thing turned out to be perfect! It's a little stuffed puppy, and inside its belly is a mechanical "heart" that produces a realistic "heartbeat." It also came with heating packs which you could insert in the belly. The kittens took to it as their temporary mom. The only sad part was that they were constantly rooting around for a nipple on it, and mewing and mewing because they couldn't find one.

In a laundry basket now

For the next 30 hours, we were dropper-feeding them kitten formula (yes, they do make such a thing) every two hours. Tom and I had to take "shifts" setting our alarms and waking up during the night. It was like we had a newborn baby in the house again!

But the kittens made it through, and we got to pick up Iive the next night. She was groggy and not eating enough yet, but at least she accepted back her babies (we had been warned that she might not)!!

It's almost two weeks later now [geez - it took me forever to type out this whole saga!], and the babies are still doing well. One is much chunkier than the other, and they both seem larger than kittens typically are at this age - probably because there's so little competition over the milk supply. Their eyes opened a few days ago (kittens are born blind), and their ears are starting to lift and become more pointed.

We gave them both intentionally ridiculous names - ones that we've often joked about being potential names for future children, but would never actually use: Odoric (actual name of an obscure Saint we found in our "Is it a Saint's Name?" pamphlet a couple years ago), and Suitbert (after Fr. Suitbert Mollinger, who founded St. Anthony's Chapel, one of the largest reliquary churches in the New World).

Suitbert

Odoric

THE END!

The Whole Kitten Ordeal, Part III

...continued from the other day


The vet had told us that even though the induction hadn't worked, there was a chance that Iive would end up going into labor naturally during the night, and having the other three kittens. I wasn't *expecting* that to happen, but I think a part of me was definitely hopeful that it might. We woke up the next morning (Tuesday). Tom had to go to work, and I was tasked with making a vet appointment as soon as possible, and taking Iive ("ee-vay") in for her c-section. We went to the closet to peek in at Iive and her babies, and see if by some miracle, another had been born in the night. There were still just the two kittens there. But Iive was gone.

The bedroom door was shut, so she obviously hadn't gone far. As we started scanning the room for the cat, we noticed spots of blood on the ground in various places. We became a little worried, and started searching more frantically. Did she have complications during the night? Could the blood have been from the birth of more kittens? Tom found her under the bed, and coaxed her out. She had been sitting on a pillowcase which we stored there, and it was also covered in blood (luckily, it was a special waterproof case, so everything washed right off!). Tom comforted her, and placed her back in the box with her kittens. I searched under the bed, thinking maybe the third kitten (the one whose sac had been bulging out of her) had been born. But I didn't find one. Under Iive's tail there was such a bloody mess, that it was hard to see what was going on there.

Tom left for work, and I went about my usual morning routine until it was time to call the vet. I called only minutes after they opened to request an appointment. I quickly explained our situation, and said that Iive would need a c-section at the earliest open appointment. The receptionist didn't seem to buy my story, and kept trying to convince me to bring her in later in the afternoon so the vet could do a check-up on her, and then figure out what needed to be done. I insisted that I wanted a morning appointment, and I wanted the vet to set aside time for an immediate c-section. She finally gave me one at 11:00.

**Warning - the story is going to get gross for the rest of this installment**

I had my mom come over to help me transport everyone to the vet. She's a fellow cat lover (/crazy cat lady) herself, and has a lot of experience with taking sick animals to vets. I just couldn't manage the baby and a box of cats (we don't own a cat carrier) by myself. My mom drove, and I held the box of kitties on my lap in the car. During the drive, Iive was licking up the blood from her ladyparts. When she was satisfied that it was clean enough, she lay back down. And that's when I saw it....What had been just a blob of greyish amniotic sac sticking out, was now a little bulge of furry orange kitten. Her third baby, which had been trying to get out for over 24 hours now. I stroked it, trying to discern what part of its body it was. The head, I thought...maybe. But it was cold. And it didn't seem like it was alive anymore...

The first vet we had visited had mentioned that when kittens die inside the mother, there is some sort of gas given off that smells really bad. Since she had not smelled that gas from Iive, she said there was reason to hope that the kittens might still be alright. Here in the car, I didn't smell it either. Maybe, I thought, even if this kitten hadn't made it...the other two were still happily kicking around in there??

We arrived at the vet, and signed in at the counter. We sat down to wait: my mom occupying Sly, and me trying to get another look at kitten #3. I was carefully probing at the little body, and narrating my findings to my mother. My mom is one of those people who does not get grossed out at all by bodily "stuff" (she's a nurse, in fact). She soon started poking at the little kitten herself, and sadly confirmed my suspicion that it was probably dead. She then passed the baby to me, and went to grip the barely-born little kitten's body. "You're not going to try to pull it out are you??" I asked. She just gritted her teeth, and nodded at me. She began pulling on it gently. Iive became very alert, and seemed to be uncomfortable (I don't blame her!). My mom kept wiggling it out. And then we could see a little face - so it had been the kitten's head. And then a paw came out! It was so sad. And it was definitely dead. We were both too struck by that little paw and too nervous about hurting Iive to continue. We needed the vet!

I went up to bug the receptionists again. "Okay, now there is a dead kitten hanging out of our cat! We need to see the vet!" But they were pretty rude, and just sent me back to the seat to wait. That's when I noticed the horrendous odor. It must have been that "kitten death gas" we had been told about. I wanted to gag.

There was a nice old man at the vet with his big friendly dog. Before my mom had messed with the kitten, she had brought Sly over to pet his dog, and chatted with him for a few moments. He had been busy at the front desk for a while, but now he came over to us, asking, "can I see what's in your box?" like it was pet show-and-tell. He was very nice, and I know he just wanted to take a peek at whatever cute animal we had brought. But we couldn't let him see the gruesome sight in there! A cat with a dead kitten hanging half out of her! Instinctively, both my mom and I kind of covered up the box with our hands, and made unintelligible sounds, "uhhh, mmm....I don't think...ermmm...." The poor man just felt awkward, and started apologizing, and turned away without understanding what had happened. It was pretty uncomfortable.

And then Iive gave a big lurch. And the entire dead kitten flowed out of her, riding on a sea of blood and placenta. Oh, and the stench. It was unbearable. I leapt up from my seat, and yelled at the receptionists, "There's a dead kitten in here, and tons of blood, and we need a vet RIGHT NOW!!" At that very moment, a vet was coming out of the back, and she went right over to Iive. She calmly looked down at the gruesome scene, and said, "yeah, I'm sure the kittens are dead too. Let's take her to the back."

And thus died any hope of rescuing any of the unborn kittens :-(

...To be continued

The Whole Kitten Ordeal, Part II

...continued from the other day...

The receptionist at the vet told us that it was going to be a long day. They would try to induce Iive, but then it would just be a waiting game for hours, hoping that she would "produce" the kittens. She suggested we go home and try to enjoy our holiday.

We took her up on the suggestion, and headed back for home. We stopped for fast food on the way since we were rather hungry, and, I suppose, wanting some "comfort food." It was hard to make ourselves do much once we were home, as we were worried about Iive and worried about all the money this was going to cost. There was also a bit of excitement thrown in, at the prospect of three more kittens to come. Our sincere expectation was that we would get a call and be headed back to the vet in a few hours to pick up the happy family.

Not so.

We had a family cookout to go to at 5:00, and decided to check in with the vet before we left. We said another quick prayer to St. Gertrude of Nivelles, and made the call. They said they had given Iive four hours on the oxytocin, and nothing had happened. Still no contractions. They were about the start another round, and said they would get in touch with us later that evening to let us know how things were going.

We still went to the party, but I can't say our minds were entirely on the festivities. Tom, especially, was having a tough time handling it all, since Iive is his beloved baby girl. At various points, Tom and I separated ourselves by hiding out in a bedroom or going for a short walk. We needed to discuss the issue, or make phone calls to our moms (fellow cat-lovers) for advice. We knew that if this round of induction didn't work - and neither of us felt at all confident that it would - we would be faced with a tough decision: come up with another $1000+ that we didn't have for a kitty c-section (from which neither Iive nor the three unborn kittens were guaranteed to come out alive), or...have her put to sleep.

Before this whole incident, I didn't believe I was one of those people who would even consider spending thousands of dollars on a cat. No matter how much I might care for a pet, I thought, it's still just an animal - not a human. If desperate and expensive measures should be called for to save one's life, I had determined that I would just have to steel myself and let it go.

But that was before we actually found ourselves in such a situation. It wasn't that our cat was old, and at the end of its life. She was young and otherwise healthy...and the lives of her two born and three unborn kittens were also thrown into the equation. Now it wasn't just my emotional attachment to the pet I had to be concerned with - it was my husband's.

Another call to the vet confirmed the worst - the second attempt at induction wasn't working. The only hope now was a c-section. They said they'd put together an estimate and call us back. We were already hundreds of dollars in this thing. The c-section, they said, would add an additional $1300 or so to our bill. This is when we really started agonizing over the decision. That's a LOT of money! Tom's mom had told us earlier that they would be willing to cover half the cost of the c-section (knowing how much Iive means to Tom). This was certainly a generous offer, but it's always hard to take so much money from someone. The vet told us that we could have the operation that night, or wait until morning, and take Iive to a different vet. Since she was at an emergency vet center, they told us, the pricing there was a bit higher. Waiting until morning might save us money...but did we want to take that risk?

At this point, we had already missed half the party anyways, separating ourselves so often to deliberate over the cat situation. Everyone in the family was starting to gather for the walk up to the high school, where they'd have a great view of the fireworks. Tom and I decided we would just head home instead. We really weren't in the right spirits to watch fireworks anyways.

At some point on the short drive home, Tom suggested we just go to the vet in person to talk with them and get all our questions answered. That way, too, we could see Iive before either surgery or...the other thing. We called to let them know we were coming, and started heading there. Stupid us, we had to drive right through the city just as downtown fireworks were starting, and the streets were jammed with people! We were slightly late, but at least we got to see a few fireworks on the Fourth of July.

We met with the vet, and she laid out our options again. Iive needed a c-section to survive. The unborn kittens may or may not be alive - there was no way to tell for sure. She could do it that night for $1300, or we could take her home and bring her elsewhere in the morning. The vet assured us that it would be "several hundred dollars cheaper" if we went to a regular vet. She also said that Iive and the unborn kittens would probably be "about the same" in the morning. She did seem to be pushing us toward the latter option, and we decided to take her up on it. If we could save some money on the c-section, and have Tom's parents helping us out with the cost, we figured we should go ahead with it....as expensive as it still was.

Iive and her two babies rode home with us that night, and we put them back in our bedroom. Iive seemed happy to be home, but didn't look too well. Her belly was still large with babies, and there was blood and mess down under her tail. We looked up the phone numbers and opening hours of a few local vets, so I could call them as soon as they opened the next morning.

To be continued...

The Whole Kitten Ordeal, Part I

These last days of Iive's ( pronounced "ee-vay") pregnancy have been very trying ones. For ages now, we've been hoping she would get pregnant and give us a litter of kittens to enjoy (we're both huge "cat people"). But I know that after these recent events, Tom will NEVER let us own an un-spayed female cat again.

I could tell Iive's labor was approaching on Saturday night. She was "nesting" around the house, following me around, and there was some discharge coming from her ladyparts. By Sunday night, we knew the time had finally come. We placed her in "her box", which we made for this purpose a couple weeks ago. She lay down and started having visible contractions. This was about 11:00 on Sunday night. Tom and I remarked about what good timing this was since he would have the day off of work, it being July 4th the next day. We both poured ourselves cocktails, and sat down around the box, excited to watch "the show."



Iive was mostly keeping her tail down over the action, but every now and then, I would steal a peek. At one point, I saw that there was a little tail sticking out! We both "awwww'd" when we saw it wagging around. It seemed a little odd that the kitten was coming out tail-first. So I ran up to the computer for the first of many Google searches that night, to see if this was normal. I found that kittens could come out either head or back-legs first. So I figured all was well.

You can just barely see the little tail poking out

I remember the several litters of kittens we had when I was in middle school. As far as my memory serves, the labors were quick and easy. Maybe an hour or two total. So when two hours had gone by, and Iive had made no more progress, we started to worry. I occasionally touched the little tail to make it start to wag again. And we'd sigh with relief that at least the kitten was still alive. We started saying many prayers to St. Gertrude of Nivelles, Patron Saint of cats (we're so Catholic!)

We don't have air-conditioning, so the house was horribly hot. All the fans were on, but understandably, Iive was still uncomfortable. A woman in labor needs to stay cool! She kept trying to get out of her box, and eventually we just let her. She labored for a while on the cooler linoleum floor of the kitchen. Then she went down to the cold concrete floor of the basement. This was the place we'd wanted to prevent her going at all costs. But Tom was starting to get really worried about her, and therefore gave in to indulgence.

We followed her down, and tried to keep her calm. All of us were starting to get pretty tired at this point, and Tom and I were asking many "what ifs". Tom ran upstairs for another Google check, and came back telling me that we could try to pull the kitten out ourselves. We got a rag, and some gloves, and I gave it a go. But all that I had to grasp was the kitten's little tail and a tiny bit of its bottom. I just couldn't get a good enough hold, and Iive was flipping out every time I tried. She was very stretched out down there, and it looked painful.

It had been three hours by this point, and we finally resolved that it was time to call the vet. This is what we had been avoiding, because we both know too well how expensive it is to visit a vet, especially for emergencies. Tom had read that 99% of cat births go without a hitch, and we were still holding out hope that Iive's would turn around.

Not many vets are open on a Sunday, let alone the 4th of July. And by this point, it was about 2am in the early morning of the 4th. Tom called an emergency animal hospital. They said we should try applying Vaseline inside of the birth canal, if at all possible. If that didn't work, we would have to bring her in. Tom grabbed the Vaseline (which I'm so thankful we actually had at our home!), and some Q-tips. He did the job, while I held down the struggling cat with both arms. Now there was nothing to do but wait for the next contraction, and see what would happen.

The next contraction came, and Iive stood right up for it. To our amazement, the kitten glided right out! We couldn't believe how easy it was.


She set to work cleaning the kitten, and eating the placenta. She didn't get very far on either job, though, because she started having a second kitten right away. We were hesitant to touch the baby with our hands, knowing some mothers will reject a baby with a foreign scent. I used one of Sly's burp clothes to pick it up, and realized that Iive had left half the placenta, still attached to the kitten by the umbilical cord that she'd forgotten to bite through. Luckily, we had already read what to do in this situation. Tom grabbed some scissors and thread. We tied off the cord, and cut it ourselves.



The second kitten had been born by this time (we think maybe they both got "jammed in the chute" as they tried to come out at the same time?). Iive didn't clean it's face well enough, so I used Sly's snot-sucker bulb to suck everything off, and help it to breathe. We also had to cut the cord for this kitten. We just threw the remaining placentas in the trash, because Iive wasn't interested in them anymore!

Both the kittens are all orange, so it's almost certain they are boys. We placed them in the box, and got Iive to lie down with them. They started rooting for her nipples, and eventually found them, and began suckling. Iive looked completely exhausted by this point, but didn't seem to be having anymore contractions.


I kept saying how surprised I was that there had only been two kittens (typically, it's around 5), and that it seemed weird that Iive's tummy was still rather large. I felt her belly, and couldn't really discern any movement in there. And she seemed to be done with the contractions. We moved the box up to our bedroom so we could be on hand during the night in case anything happened.

Having stayed up so late into the night, we slept until 10am the next morning (amazingly, Sly was willing to fall back asleep in the bed with us, after nursing at 7!). I went over to peek at the cats, and noticed something distressing. There was a bit of amniotic sac bulging out of Iive's ladyparts. There was definitely another kitten there. But she wasn't having any contractions.

We called the vet again, and they said to bring her in right away. The vet was about 25 minutes away, and I held the box of Iive and babies on my lap in the car. As soon as we got there, they took them from us and told us to have a seat. This was a really fancy and high-tech vet's office. They deal only with emergencies, and you would swear you were at a hospital for humans. They had a little child play area, and we sat in there with Sly. He had a blast playing with all the toys, and it was a good way to stay distracted while we waited for news.

The fee just for bringing her in was $125. They asked if they could do X-rays (for another $95). We said yes. About an hour later, a doctor called us back to talk to us. There were still three other kittens inside. There was no way for sure to tell whether they were alive. The vet said we should go ahead and try to induce her with oxytocin. They had us sign an agreement to pay the final cost which, at this point, was estimated to be $400-$500. A serious blow to our already-dwindling funds. But what choice did we have?

I got very matter of fact with God, and started telling Him, "alright, God, we'll do what we have to do. But you better find a way to send us a lot of money here."

To be continued...

Pregnant Kitty!!

Okay, I've waited two weeks to say it - just so I could be sure - but now it's a definite. The cat is pregnant....we're going to have KITTENS!!!!

Look at that baby bump!

We are all looking forward to the arrival of the kittens. Seriously, though, she couldn't have picked worse timing for this. Sly is crawling all over the place these days. He WILL perpetually try to disturb the kittens in their "nest". I know he could destroy a kitten in about two seconds with one of his pincer-like grasps. Likewise, a bunch of pouncing, bounding kittens who don't know how to control their claws have the potential to really rip up my baby's face/arms/etc. It's going to be a battle to keep them all apart from each other.

Then there's the intricate system of baby gates we've set up around the house. Right now, it's perfect. The cats are able to go anywhere in the house, or outside of the house (due to cat-sized holes or slits cut in each gates). Sly is blocked from leaving out the front or back door, as well as from going down the basement stairs, and from going either up OR down the regular staircase unsupervised. But what about kittens? They will be able to fit through all the catholes, obviously. But I don't want them wandering outside, or falling down the basement stairs. Oy. Our house is simply not big enough to designate separate zones for baby, kittens, and cats.

And then there's the fact that we're going away for TEN DAYS at the end of July/early August. Who's going to watch the kittens?!?! Sure, my mom will be able to stop over from time to time to give them food, and change the litter box. But that's not going to be enough. I worry that without a lot of human interaction, the kittens will become wild. I don't mean to sound silly, but it's true - I have experience with litters of kittens from when I was younger, and I saw the great effect that regular human attention has in turning a frisky and wild kitten into a wonderful and friendly pet (my mom called it "breaking their spirits"). Plus, with two adult cats and who knows how many kittens using the litter box - that thing is going to need to be scooped OFTEN!

It all just stresses me out too much when I think about it. So instead of worrying about all those things, I'm just going to think about the impending arrival of the little fuzzy balls of love.

KITTENS!!

Ready to pop!

....kittens?

Ok. I don't want to get ahead of myself on here. AGAIN. But...we think the cat really might be pregnant this time. The signs are much stronger. She is very fat (she isn't fitting through the cat holes in the baby gates anymore), and her nipples are very prominent and hard. And she's acting funny. I'm trying very hard not to get my hopes up too much, though.

I wish she had had kittens a few months ago, before Sly was crawling. It would have been a lot easier to deal with then. If there were kittens now, it would be difficult to keep Sly from "over-loving" them. The only area of the house that is totally off-limits for Sly is the basement, but that is an awful and dangerous place for the kittens too (plus, if there were kittens down there, I wouldn't be able to sit and gaze at them for hours)....

Will keep you posted on progress!

7 Quick Takes Friday (Vol. 6)

1. I expect I am going to be merely sleepwalking through the day today. I don't know what was going on with Sly last night - either intense teething, or he caught the sickness that Tom had all week. But every ten minutes - no joke - he would wake up SCREAMING. It took forever to calm him down. He was in our bed all night, of course. And Tom did not stir even once. How is that possible? I tried Tylenol, but it didn't help (and that's always helped in the past, when he's like this). Now that it's morning, he seems just fine and dandy. But I feel like a zombie.


2. Father's Day is coming up later in the month. I think I am going to use it as an excuse to get one of these carriers. For Tom, of course....hehe, well...and myself.


3. I'm reading a very griping work of non-fiction right now, called The Flipside of Feminism. Basically about how the feminist message is a lie, and actually bad for women. Maybe next week, I will assemble a post of some choice quotes from the book.




4. I'm also reading (I can never seem to restrict my active books to just one) The Omnivore's Dilemma. Very well written, and a fascinating look at where our food really comes from. The first part is all about the corn industry, and it makes me angry, and tempted to just boycott corn forever! But aside from the fact that that would be near impossible to do in America, the truth is, I really enjoy corn. I just ate two delicious buttery and salty cobs of it last night...mmmm.


5. Ironing clothes has never been a favorite activity of mine. Mostly because it takes FOREVER. And practically every item of clothing that Tom wears to work needs to get ironed after it's washed. We have a special basket designated for clothes that are waiting for the iron. About twice a month, I put aside two or so hours in my day and tackle them all.

But now that Sly is crawling, I've found this impossible. There is absolutely no way of ironing when he's awake. He insists on being in the same room as me (which is probably for the best these days, since he's constantly finding new ways to get into things), and he wants to come over and see what I'm doing. This could mean trying to climb the ironing board, or grabbing the cord on the iron. I am certain that letting Sly be in the same room as a hot iron would result in him getting burned. Evenings are tough to get it done as well, since there are so many other things I've been saving to do for "when Sly goes to bed (!)". For over a week, I've been begging Tom to give me a hand so I could get through the ironing. Last night, he was finally feeling a little better. So we put on a movie, and took turns wielding the iron. Man - what an exciting evening, huh?

And still, we only got through half the basket.


6. Now that Sly is crawling, my poor Lancelot is getting even more beat up!7. I just bought a new bright red red red lipstick the other day. We'll see how it goes. I've been on a quest to find one that's a true RED shade, and yet lasts on my lips longer than two minutes. All traditional lipsticks are worthless. I love the Covergirl Outlast lipcolor sticks (which last for maybe 3-4 hours, rather than the 16 hours that they claim on the box). But they, sadly, do not make a real red. So I've been exploring other brands of long-lasting lipcolors. Loreal's was a total flop. The new one is Revlon....now to find the right occasion to try it out...

Hosted at Conversion Diary

KITTENS

Tom's cat Iive might be pregnant.....!!

Let me back up here with some explanation. Tom and I each brought one cat into the marriage. I brought beautiful, strong, masculine, and exceptionally-friendly Siamese kitty Lancelot (usually called Lance).

Sweet baby Lance

Tom brought the mischievous, clumsy, and biggest bully-cat in the world, Iive (prounounced ee-vay. It's Tom's Latinization of the word "jive").

Don't be fooled - she's a meanie

**commence rant against Iive**

I don't like Iive, and I never have. Which is odd, because I'm definitely a cat person. There's rarely a cat I don't like. She's so bad, though. She always ALWAYS get into stuff. If there's anything "new" in the house, she will climb on it, sit in it, open it, etc.. Before Sly was born, she kept sleeping in his crib, his cradle, and on his changing table. And leaving her gross orange fur everywhere. Tom claims she's just curious, but I know better.

And she's so clumsy! Cats are supposed to be the most graceful creatures around. I've watched cats walk across a chessboard in use, stepping carefully between each piece, and not knock over a single one. Iive can't even avoid picture frames on the mantle! Or perhaps she can, she just doesn't care to. Humph.

Every time I open the front door, she runs out. And then two seconds later - completely literally - she wants back in. SO ANNOYING.

And she's so mean to other cats. She HATES other cats. She beats up Lance ALL.THE.TIME. For no reason! She actually waits around corners to pounce on him. Luckily, Lance is stronger than her, and can defend himself. But I can't say as much for the cat she used to live with. When Tom had roommates, they had a tiny delicate little wisp of a cat named Eliza. Iive terrorized the poor thing so much that she wouldn't come out of hiding. Ever. She couldn't access the food or the litter box. She started losing weight and, well, going to the bathroom in places she shouldn't. They had to keep the cats living on separate floors of the house after that, with their own food and litter. As if they each had their own apartment!

And Iive doesn't like any people - except for Tom. She absolutely fawns over him. And he fawns right back. And it's annoying. I think Iive and I are like jealous women, fighting for the affections of the same man.

**okay, rant over**

Anyways. She's never been spayed. And yet she's never been pregnant. She's only been in heat a handful of times, unlike other unspayed females who do so much more often. Tom and I suspect maybe she's infertile. Or it could be that she's so mean to all the other male cats, that none of them want to touch her (hehe). And if she does manage to find a willing male while she's in heat, it's likely that all the male cats wandering around are already neutered. But both of us would love if she got pregnant. Because I LOVE KITTENS!!

Iive was in heat 3 weeks ago, and we saw her gallivanting outside with a black kitty. Now, for the past day or two, she's been acting differently. Much friendlier. She's even been coming to sit on my lap for pets. And she appears a touch pudgier in the belly. Maybe it's all just a coincidence. But my mind can't stop considering the possibility...

Cat gestation is about 2 months, so it won't be long before we know one way or the other. I was talking to Tom last night about how much I would love love love to have a litter of kittens in the house. I said, "you know, I think I'm more excited about the prospect of kittens than I was about the birth of my own baby." He gave me this look to say "wow, you are the most terrible person on the planet for just saying that."

But when I say excited, I mean in that girlish, gleeful, giggly way: "KITTENS!!!!" Of course - of course - a human soul is higher than a cat soul. The birth of my own child was a much more important and momentous event in my life than a litter of kittens in the house could ever be. But all my life I've hoped to have children. Planned for it, expected it to some extent. And then once I was pregnant, I still had nine months to prepare mentally. It was wonderful, but I was at least partially prepared.

But kittens? That would be a sweetly unexpected little surprise. Sly and I would spend all our free time just watching those soft fluffy squeaky little balls of happiness. And I would get so many cute pictures of my baby with the kitty babies. squeeeeeeeee!!

I don't want to get my hopes up too much, though. Iive might just be in a weird mood for some other reason. Anyways, it might be for the best if it didn't happen. I mean, if there were kittens in the house, this blog would probably turn into something that would better be titled: kittenskittenskittenskittensKITTENS!!!!.blogspot.com :-P

Just a Few Quick Updates

1. Tom's back home now. Sly was very happy to see him again, and has been laughing up a storm at all of Daddy's funny faces and noises (dads always seem better at that!). And he brought me a present! I lost my winter hat a couple weeks ago at the library. So he bought me a new one. And this one has cat ears!

He knows me well!

2. We spent the first half of Saturday bouncing around to some different stores and such. We checked out an antique show, the dollar store, a book shop, and Papermart (we needed Mardi Gras supplies for a party we're having soon). It was a pleasant day - it's always nice to have the feeling of having no where in particular you need to be, and to just let your whims carry you...

3. Found a GREAT website: cakewrecks.com. This is just a very small sampling of the hilarious offerings you can find...

The customer gave the bakery an image of his boss on his thumb drive, which was supposed to be printed onto the cake. Instead, he got a picture of the thumb drive itself!

Sometimes people really amaze me by how obtuse they can be!

4. Sly is officially sitting now! He can stay up for a really long time, but we still surround him with a protective ring of pillows - just in case.



Now we just need to work on rolling over. I think babies tend to start rolling front-to-back around four months. Sly is almost six months and still can't do it! Well, he's rolled a couple times. But it was definitely accidental, and he definitely didn't enjoy it.

5. As Sly has started to outgrow his bouncer chair, someone knew has started to claim it as his own.