My precious old lady kitty Kalypso died Sunday evening.
BH and I got her about 6 months after we got married and about 1 month after we moved ourselves alllll the way out to California where we knew not a soul so that I could go to graduate school.
I always say that we did not pick out Kalypso, but rather she picked US out for herself. We got her from the SPCA shelter in Oakland. It was not very well lit, and I was peering in the cages at the kitties when I felt a little paw on my back. I turned around to see a tiny and very fuzzy long-haired tortoise shell kitten. We asked to have a look at her. We took her in to the visiting room and she immediately curled up in my lap and started purring and seemed as happy as could be. I told BH that we had just found our kitty. He wanted to reserve opinion until he saw how she did with him. So I very reluctantly handed her over. She curled right up in his lap and kept on purring.
So home with us she went. She really was a welcome friend in a town where we had none. You would have thought that cat was our child, the way we treated her. She went on many plane trips home with us, because we hated to leave her behind. If we were sitting or lying down she was in our lap, curled up on our backs, sitting on our heads, never far from our side. She would play for hours and was extremely entertaining.
As happens with all pets when kids enter the picture, she did not get quite the attention she had when she was an only child, but she was ever patient with the girls and they loved her dearly. Nothing made them happier then to sit in the hallway every morning so that Kalypso would come sit in their laps to get her morning pets. When they started helping to feed her they were thrilled when she would sleep in their beds at night. When she got to old and frail to jump up to their beds, they both made special spots on the floor with pillows and t-shirts so that she would have a place to rest near them. The nicknamed her Pippy and loved her as much as we did.
Kalypso turned 14 this year and got very ill last spring. Her kidneys were failing and she was having seizures. We had made the decision to end her suffering, but before we made the call the she rallied around and recovered somewhat.
A couple of weeks ago, she started having seizures again. She was eating only the tiniest amounts no matter what treats we gave her to try and coax her appetite. We knew that she was winding down.
Sunday afternoon she had a seizure and seemed to have a lot of trouble coming out of it. We did not think she was going to make it to the next day, and decided that if she did the time had come. She was obviously suffering now, and we could not let her go on like that.
We told the girls at dinner, and everyone cried. We checked on her periodically. Finally shortly before the girls bedtime BH called me in and said that he thought Kalypso was at the end. Her breathing was erratic and very very shallow. We gave the girls the chance to come in and say goodbye, and then BH and I sat there petting her until she was gone.
It has been very sad around here these past few days. We are grateful to have been with her as she took her final breaths, and grateful even more that she suffers no more.
I still expect to see her sitting in her favorite spots, or to have her come in after I have showered to lick drops of water off my legs. I miss seeing her watch over the other two cats like the matriarch she was.
I miss my friend.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Things that make my heart melt
This evening I was preparing to dry #2's hair when she says to me, "Mommy, when I am older will you tell me all of your secrets?"
I counter this remark with my best, "whatchootalkinbout#2" look.
She goes on to say, "I want you to tell me all of the secrets about how you are such a great mom so that I can be a great mom like you when I grow up because you are the best mom a little girl could ever have."
I reply by melting into a great big huge pile of lovey dovey goo all over the floor.
I counter this remark with my best, "whatchootalkinbout#2" look.
She goes on to say, "I want you to tell me all of the secrets about how you are such a great mom so that I can be a great mom like you when I grow up because you are the best mom a little girl could ever have."
I reply by melting into a great big huge pile of lovey dovey goo all over the floor.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Survived
I survived my first specator parent experience.
#2 had her first basketball game over the weekend. Her team is scrappy I tell ya! Scrappy! Those little girls were not afraid to take the ball any time the other team managed to get their hands on it, which was not often. #2's team won 22-0. That is no typo friends. That was the final score.
I clapped, but did not holler at my child. I have to maintain my dignity doncha know.
In other news, last week showed much improvement over the previous one despite a very bumpy start.
Once again I am dying to go in to detail, but smarts keeps me from doing so on here. Dang, I do often lament the really interesting blog I could have if I could share more information.
In a about a week or so I think it will be safe to announce some upcoming Big! Changes! For! Me!
Too bad that the changes won't be as exciting for all of you as they will be for me. But you are a kind and loving audience who no doubt will get over it soon.
Hey, did I tell you about my totally weird dream the other night?
I dreamt that I was taking an algebra class, and it was taught by my high school algebra teacher. He was much more pushy in my dream and did not let me get away with my complete inability to comprehend algebra. Several times in the dream I thought I was going to cry but didn't. That dream seemed really long and when I woke I was really grouchy that I had spent my night trying to learn algebra.
Especially since I now know that I am right and I NEVER use it in my adult life.
Because I have a mathematically inclined husband who can help the children with their math homework.
I knew what I was doing when I married that man.
#2 had her first basketball game over the weekend. Her team is scrappy I tell ya! Scrappy! Those little girls were not afraid to take the ball any time the other team managed to get their hands on it, which was not often. #2's team won 22-0. That is no typo friends. That was the final score.
I clapped, but did not holler at my child. I have to maintain my dignity doncha know.
In other news, last week showed much improvement over the previous one despite a very bumpy start.
Once again I am dying to go in to detail, but smarts keeps me from doing so on here. Dang, I do often lament the really interesting blog I could have if I could share more information.
In a about a week or so I think it will be safe to announce some upcoming Big! Changes! For! Me!
Too bad that the changes won't be as exciting for all of you as they will be for me. But you are a kind and loving audience who no doubt will get over it soon.
Hey, did I tell you about my totally weird dream the other night?
I dreamt that I was taking an algebra class, and it was taught by my high school algebra teacher. He was much more pushy in my dream and did not let me get away with my complete inability to comprehend algebra. Several times in the dream I thought I was going to cry but didn't. That dream seemed really long and when I woke I was really grouchy that I had spent my night trying to learn algebra.
Especially since I now know that I am right and I NEVER use it in my adult life.
Because I have a mathematically inclined husband who can help the children with their math homework.
I knew what I was doing when I married that man.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Awful
The past week was awful.
This week looks to be much the same.
Can't really discuss any of it here.
Having a really hard time TCB.
Ugh.
This week looks to be much the same.
Can't really discuss any of it here.
Having a really hard time TCB.
Ugh.
Saturday, September 05, 2009
Wide World of Sports
BH and I are not athletic people.
We don't watch sports, play sports, or in truth really care at all about sports.
We have no teams that we support or care about.
Being Midwesterners, that sometimes puts us on the oddball scale. Particularly when there is a KU vs K-State game on the horizon. Saying you could care less about who wins, or failure to declare a loyalty puts you on par with aliens, or baby stealers, and the like. People just don't understand.
When we were expecting #s 1 and 2, we used to always joke that we artsy fartsy theater loving people were going to give birth to the most tremendous sports loving jocks on the face of the planet. That is how things work right?
Well that hasn't exactly come to pass. Our youngest is 8 years old and we are about to make our first foray in the world of "Parents Whose Child Participates in a Team Sport."
Y'see #2 has decided that she would like to play basketball this year. Never one to discourage a valid interest we signed her up.
Now I wonder what have we gotten in to? We will have to attend practice once a week and go to games once a week. GAMES. Where we have to watch and pay attention. There will be cheering on involved.
I am going to be totally out of my element.
I bet I can count on one hand the number of sporting event I have attended as an adult. I have NO INTEREST. NONE. DON'T CARE.
I assume because my child is involved that this will increse my level of interest.
However there is one thing that worries me greatly....
Cheering on.
I. Don't. Cheer.
Ever.
I also never never E-V-E-R clap along with music at concerts and performances.
Because I HATE THAT.
I am no good at audience participation. I flat out refuse. I will be the only one standing there mute and unmoving and I am ok with that. Perfectly ok.
Until now.
There is going to be much pressure to cheer on.
Of course my anxious irrational self is coming out and imagining the horror and evil things I will do to my darling child because I don't holler out and cheer and participate with the rest of the audience.
Oh Lordy.
I should have just signed her up for dance and told her to live with it.
Oy.
Go #2!
Woot.
Woo Hoo.
Can I just Twitter my support?
We don't watch sports, play sports, or in truth really care at all about sports.
We have no teams that we support or care about.
Being Midwesterners, that sometimes puts us on the oddball scale. Particularly when there is a KU vs K-State game on the horizon. Saying you could care less about who wins, or failure to declare a loyalty puts you on par with aliens, or baby stealers, and the like. People just don't understand.
When we were expecting #s 1 and 2, we used to always joke that we artsy fartsy theater loving people were going to give birth to the most tremendous sports loving jocks on the face of the planet. That is how things work right?
Well that hasn't exactly come to pass. Our youngest is 8 years old and we are about to make our first foray in the world of "Parents Whose Child Participates in a Team Sport."
Y'see #2 has decided that she would like to play basketball this year. Never one to discourage a valid interest we signed her up.
Now I wonder what have we gotten in to? We will have to attend practice once a week and go to games once a week. GAMES. Where we have to watch and pay attention. There will be cheering on involved.
I am going to be totally out of my element.
I bet I can count on one hand the number of sporting event I have attended as an adult. I have NO INTEREST. NONE. DON'T CARE.
I assume because my child is involved that this will increse my level of interest.
However there is one thing that worries me greatly....
Cheering on.
I. Don't. Cheer.
Ever.
I also never never E-V-E-R clap along with music at concerts and performances.
Because I HATE THAT.
I am no good at audience participation. I flat out refuse. I will be the only one standing there mute and unmoving and I am ok with that. Perfectly ok.
Until now.
There is going to be much pressure to cheer on.
Of course my anxious irrational self is coming out and imagining the horror and evil things I will do to my darling child because I don't holler out and cheer and participate with the rest of the audience.
Oh Lordy.
I should have just signed her up for dance and told her to live with it.
Oy.
Go #2!
Woot.
Woo Hoo.
Can I just Twitter my support?
Doncha Hate it?
When you have something exciting to share, but the timing is just not quite right?
I do.
Sigh.
Soon. Hopefully soon.
I do.
Sigh.
Soon. Hopefully soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)