seventhe: (Cats: I LIKE THEM)
Marzy pawed our thermostat up to 85F.

It's very warm in here.
seventhe: (Zeromus: HAY GUYS)
Marzy had his ~6 month checkup yesterday. He's been on the beta blockers since... December? And on this dose since at least February or March, I think.

His heart murmur has not healed itself or grown smaller; he still has very bad cardiomyopathy, a level 5/6. (Sometimes the heart can fix itself as it grows, or over time, and a murmur will heal itself; this isn't the case for Marzy.) It's still very serious. But it is stable; it isn't getting worse.

There were two minor improvements and one minor flag, a thing-to-watch. Overall it's still a net improvement, and the doctor said specifically she was very pleased with how far Marzy has come on the drugs from his initial echocardiogram and she can see definite changes comparing the ultrasounds, so he is improving. Just... slowly.

So he stays on this dose of drugs for another 6-9 months and then goes back to get looked at again.

*sigh*
seventhe: (Rydia: calls the monsters)
There are two preludes to this story:

(1) So Rydia still fights with the boys occasionally; this is worse at the townhouse, because with all of us - and Becky - there, space is pretty limited, meaning Rydia doesn't have a very good "safe haven" she can run to when she just doesn't want to be bothered with their bullshittery. They get along fine most of the time; it's really just when one gets in her all up in her space (it's usually Marzy), or when sometimes they (read: Marzy) interpret her as playful, and try to bat at her tail or boop her nose. She'll howl and hiss and sometimes swat. Depending on how they reply, it can continue, although usually they get the message and leave her alone.

It isn't anything bad, although I don't like when it happens. It's just a feline assertion of boundaries. Rydia is made of cranky cat hate, anyway.

(Side note: how come I can't just hiss and swat when somebody comes into my space and bothers me? KIA SOUL I AM LOOKING AT YOU)

(2) There's a pack of stray cats that live out by the dumpster. I saw them for the first time a couple months ago: there's a little wild patch of brush and bushes and stuff leading into the woods behind the dumpster, and they chill in there. There's a mom and at least 3? 4? kittens, mostly black and grey, and some of them are fluffos; the kittens are not kittens, they're at least ~6 months old, but they still follow the mum like a pack. They seem pretty feral; they looked curious about me, but certainly didn't want to come out of the wild brush and investigate.

So last night about 4:30 I was awakened by the howl-snarl-hiss of Rydia and Marzy getting into it. Gee, thanks, cats. I rolled over. But it didn't stop: suddenly there was just howling, that low warbling mournful-angry-painful deep howl that cats do. By the time I had gathered my poor sleep-stiff brains together I'd realized that it probably wasn't Rydia, because it sounded like it was coming from outside (I have my window open pretty much forever). I went to the window. It sure sounded like a very unhappy cat. Now I'm picturing a cat run over by a car or something awful. So I got out of bed and went downstairs - subtly checking to make sure it wasn't any of my cats - and then slipped outside.

Right in front of the neighbor's townhouse are two of the ferals: the black one and another one that was hiding under a car that I couldn't see. Neither one would approach me, although they kind of sat and stared. They'd at least stopped howling - maybe one was a lady in heat; maybe I'd interrupted cat sex - and eventually kind of slunk off, which made me feel better because hopefully neither one was injured.

So I have a new goal now. My goal is to befriend the dumpster kittens... enough that I can take them in to get them all fixed. I'll pay, I don't mind (although I'll take donations!), and I'm pretty sure they're feral enough that they won't want to live with people anyway - they can go right back to the dumpster. I just hadn't really thought about it until last night, but I want to make sure they're taken care of, so that there aren't suddenly 40 dumpster kittens next spring.
seventhe: Rydia (Rydia)
So I have three cats. Let me get this out there first: I love cats. I have always loved cats; I love dogs too - I don't think you have to like one or the other; some people do but there are plenty of us who like both - but my lifestyle isn't really appropriate for a dog. I work 10-hour days and I'm already out of the house for 11.5 hours straight because of it; add in grad school, the gym, and the errands it takes to be a damn adult, and it's easy for me to be out of the house for 14 hours. That's only an average day. That isn't fair to do to any dog - dogs take a lot of commitment and responsibility (to get a good dog, anyway) and that just isn't feasible. So, I have three cats.

I love my cats.

I love cats in general. They are affectionate and friendly, but not clingy or needy - just like me. They want things when they want them and no one can really convince them otherwise, unless it's food - just like me. They actually need space and alone time and will be sure to get it whenever necessary - just like me. They are fuzzy and cute and make adorable noises, which I am not and don't, but hey, a girl can't do everything.

I love pets and I talk to mine all the time, like people. Because I come from crazystock, the cats talk back (yes, they all have 'voices'). They all have personalities, they all have habits, and they all have places in my heart.

So these are my cats. Lots of photos, guys, made small for easy access! )

I know my photos are old -- I think they max out at 6 months, and they are so much bigger now; I want to take a video (HAPPY KITTY VIDEO, Y/Y?) and even if I can't I'll try to get some of the photos off of my phone so that you can at least see how freaking gigantic the kittens are now. WHY DO KITTENS GROW. :(

They're small and cute and so very adorably MINE, and I am so very glad that I can provide a good home to three cats who really needed it. "Cat dreams do some true" is what Jeff and I say to them, and it's so very true. They are the luckiest fuckers in the entire world.

And those are my cats!

EDIT: I came upstairs after reading this post, and Marzy had knocked every single bottle of vitamins off of my dresser and onto the ground (that's like 5 bottles) and Porter was sleeping in a laundry basket. That should tell you everything you need to know.

This is part of my 30 Days of Posting meme - feel free to check out the schedule of posting and contribute if there are any spaces! DW || LJ

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