Twilight's Gone

Sometime last night, Twilight passed away. We have no idea what may have been wrong; he was, after all, a feral cat, and it could have been almost anything.

Twilight had vanished a couple of days ago, not being there to greet us as he always did, and not touching his food. We were worried, but thought he might have decided to hole up in the shed at the end of our property, or maybe had just gone back to hunting full-time. It didn't seem right, though; he always seemed to be either on the side deck, or on or next to the front porch. And he liked his food. It's been so bitterly cold this winter for our area, and that food kept his warmth up. He always purred so loudly when we fed him, and seemed so grateful when we'd dump the ice out of his water bowl and give him fresh.

Then he was back. But acting off, still not eating well, not moving around as much. He'd still get up to herd the dogs, especially Jack, but when the dogs came in, he'd just plop down on the walkway instead of coming back up to his food bowl as usual. A couple of days ago I very foolishly cast caution to the wind and picked Twilight up. I didn't even have anything on my hands to protect them, and fully expected to be scratched to pieces for my trouble. Instead, he let me carry him up to his nesting area, giving him skritches and petting him, with him only squirming a bit to be put down when we got there. Honestly, I was stunned, and didn't know whether it was a breakthrough, or he was worse off than I thought.

But we couldn't see anything wrong. I did notice that he was favoring his left hind leg just a bit, yet he was able to walk on it. He was always a 'talker', but he got very vocal the last couple of days. I fretted that he was in pain somehow, but again, no sign of injury...and if I had hurt him picking him up, he showed no sign of it. For about a day and a half he apparently ate nothing, even when we tried to hand feed him. DH took out a piece of pork roast yesterday afternoon, and Twilight wouldn't touch that, so we put it in his bowl.

Then last night, the DH came back in after taking the dogs for their final potty break, and said a good amount of food was gone, including the pork. We were relieved. Twilight was out with the dogs, but the DH said he was suddenly very wobbly in the back paws. We checked on him later, and he was in that shelter he never used.

This morning, he was still there, and the DH told me he was gone. Now someone please tell me why I am grieving for a cat I never wanted, never saw before November, and never even had in my home? For cripesakes, I'm allergic to the creatures! So why did I cry all over the poor DH's shoulder? Dammit.

I'm a firm believer that people...and animals...come into our lives for a reason, to meet a need we have, or for us to meet one of theirs. I'm not sure what we might have done for him that he couldn't do for himself, but I know it made us happy to feel we had a bit of his trust.

In one of Nature's little ironies, I saw the first snowdrops of the season, such a lovely sign that Spring is around the corner. It usually makes me feel so happy.

PAI Friday

We're in the studio alone this morning, the DH and I. SuzyG is off galivanting with others from the direct sales company with which she is affiliated, and we're quietly getting things done. Okay, the DH is getting things done. I'm goofing off on Facebook sending a Friend from History to Jake. I felt he deserved the Marquis de Sade, mostly due to my sick sense of humor rather than any proclivities on Jake's part....of which I'm aware. But instead I sent him Rasputin, seeing as how he was just re-elected president of the local university history honors society despite claiming not to want the honor again. I think he cast a spell. I'm sure he's capable of it.

BTW, he sent me Mary Shelley, the woman who dreamed up Frankenstein and his monster. I choose to believe it's because she was an intelligent, creative woman who was ahead of her time. If it's something to do with the subject matter, well, let's just say that Jake is safer with my chosen interpretation.

Anyway, nice and quiet, until we hear someone clomping up the front steps and across the porch. DH goes out to greet him. Have I mentioned the staff as a whole tries to avoid having the Office Goddess deal with the general public? I, of course, am bemused as to their reasoning. Sure I am. So, this man says he has pictures to pick up, under this or this name, and that we've called him a few times.

I should think we have. The pictures have been here, and paid for, for SEVEN MONTHS! Mind you we have orders that have been here, again, with the money already spent, for years. As the DH goes into production to pull the order, I hear the guy comment that he was here at nine, because "he expected we would be open at nine."

Oh, really? Because everytime we leave a voice mail, and he's admitted to getting several, we state that we're open from 10-6, Tues. through Sat. That information is also posted on the parking lot side, and the front of the building, is on the voice mail message at the studio number, and is on our website. Secretive about our hours we are not. We don't do a traditional 9-5 so that people who do can come by after work and ...gasp!...pick up pictures. Actually, a lot of area shops don't open till 10, probably for the same reason.

DH ignores the comment, which is why he's out there and I'm selecting a friend for Jake. I hear him hand the man his photo order, and the guy remarks, "That doesn't seem like much!" Um, dude? You ordered three pictures back in JULY, and you're getting three pictures. They didn't atrophy over time, we didn't deduct pictures for a storage fee (hmmmm! note to self to look into that!), and if you think it doesn't look like much, maybe you should order more photos of your dimpled darling dancer daughter.

I was doing a slow burn. Actually, maybe this is why Jake got Rasputin.

Change of topic....

A small worrisome note...we're not sure where our feral kitty, Twilight, is. Yesterday morning he wasn't acting like himself. He didn't herd Jack, his favorite Scottie, nor did he leave his nest in the alpaca-fur-mulch in the front hedge area, not even for food and fresh water. When we checked on him, he looked at us sleepily but didn't budge. I joked that perhaps he'd been catting around the night before. Witty, no? No? Okay, have it your way.

But last night he didn't greet us by rolling around on the walkway as he usually does, and although food had been eaten, there was no sign of him at all. This on a very cold blustery evening, where he'd normally be scarfing down the kibble for warmth. This morning, still no sign, and the food was untouched.

So the DH, big softie that he is, and I are pretty concerned. If the weather had warmed up considerably, I'd say he was off hunting more interesting things to eat, but it was brutal last night, and the couple nice days we did have, he was still around. Maybe he's moved on, but it seems odd when he has steady food and water.

*sigh* I'll let you know if Twilight shows back up.

Ships & Shoes & Sealing Wax...

I thought it was a good time to do some updates. First, Twilight, our feral kitty. He comes down the walk to greet us now from any of his hidey-holes, none of which are the shelter we set up for him. He meows and looks meaningfully deep into his bowl when he feels it's getting low. Twilight will purr like a chainsaw when we feed and/or water him, and allows us to pet him when he's eating, although he still isn't big on his head being touched. Of course, I scrub up like crazy afterward, knowing that any cat dander near my nose or eyes is murder, but I pet him anyway.

Next, the surgery is off. The doctor really wanted to do it at his facility, because the hospital isn't nearly as up-to-date, and he cannot see as well with their equipment to do the procedure on the shoulder. BUT, my mega-crappy insurance (there are many joys to being self-employed; this is not one of them) only covers the hospital, and that with such an appallingly high deductible that I was really sweating it. So the doc asked us to come back in, free of charge (as the DH puts it, free is in the budget) to talk.

Meanwhile, I did some research on frozen shoulders. Turns out that first of all, as a diabetic, I am more prone to the condition. Nothing new, if there's anything out there, we'll get it worse or be more susceptible. Just gotta love those genetics. Anyway, they aren't sure WHY that is the case, possibly something autoimmune-related. Second, they almost always clear up on their own. But that can take up to two years. Now, see, this shoulder is the DH's favorite sleeping place, and I haven't been able to raise my arm up for him to do that, so I do not intend to wait two years. Third, according to the American Academy of Osteopathic Surgeons website, manipulation under anesthesia is a last resort after physical therapy. I hadn't had any.

Armed with this info, I went to the meeting with the doctor. Understand, this man and his family are clients, so I knew I had to be careful with how I approached this. I hate confrontations. Not out of fear, but because I know me. If I feel defensive, I attack, and I do it very very well. Not good with a client whose wife is a serious prima donna. *sigh* I decided to see first what he had to say, and have my oh-so-tactful DH take the lead if need be.

First thing that the doc said was that he had no idea of the restrictions of our insurance, explaining the difficulty of the hospital. Since the actual surgical procedure for the calcium deposit can literally wait years, we were only doing it to kill two birds while I had to be under already. So he proposed we just do the manipulation. At this point I said that even that might not be necessary. Doing some exercises I found online, I had already improved the front range of motion of my arm considerably, and the back, which is much more painful, somewhat. I said that perhaps I had not been clear, but that although PT is supposed to be the first line of defense, I hadn't had any.

Now, mind you, I'd been perfectly clear on that. Both on forms, during the intake, and to him. But it allowed him to save face, and me to feel crafty. LOL So he said, oh, I must have missed that, and in that case we should definitely try PT first. I think he was thrilled to have the lady with the crap insurance heading elsewhere, but I do go back to let him see my progress in a couple weeks.

Meanwhile, I started PT yesterday. Yes, it hurts, plenty, but I keep floating $$$$ in front of my eyes to remind me how badly paying the medical bills would hurt! He'll see me once a week while DH and I work the shoulder on our own. Thank God for my darling husband's help. When the pain is truly unbearable, him rubbing it lets me relax my muscles, which I cannot do if I'm the one rubbing it. Good ol' Lamaze training really helps there.

BTW today is the 16th anniversary of the first day I met my DH. The time has gone by terrifyingly quickly. The first thing he did was hug me, and he still gives the best hugs. Only Camo's little bitty arms come close. :-)

Finally, I have my pearl back in my hot little hands. Twinkie's idea of shipping it safely meant to have it in its poly bag, in the little square cardboard box in which I originally sent it, in a lightly padded envelope with about six bits of Styrofoam peanuts. What a twit she is! When I sent it, it was well-wrapped in sheets of bubble wrap. But it arrived safely, it is definitely my pearl, so all's well that ends. Period. I'm so glad to be out from under Flaky Twinkie!

Now that you're caught up (yawning behind a ladylike hand), you may return to your own humdrum existence.

Call me Sucker

This is Twilight. Twilight is a cat. A feral cat. A feral cat that mews piteously. We live in a rural-ish subdivision. The lots are all about 2 acres. There are a lot of feral cats in the area; it goes with the territory of lots of farms. We see them hunting around us all the time. They stay out of our way, we stay out of theirs. All's right with the world.

Except for this guy. Although he looks young, we are pretty sure we've seen him hunting in the back yard for awhile. We've even seen him have a close encounter, nose-to-nose, with some deer, which didn't faze either species in the slightest, but left us grinning.

So why, we have to wonder, is he suddenly appearing next to our front door? He shows up, very vocal, letting us know he wants something...but not our touch. Oh, no. "Hisssst!" says Twilight. Yes, we named him. He's a lovely glossy black with just a soupcon of white hair on his chest that, in my whimsical moments, I refer to as his 'stardust.' See the blog title.

It's been getting bitterly cold some days and nights here, and we were worried. While he's made a nice little nest for himself under the bushes you see here, wrapped in some llama fur that wasn't good enough to spin and is now acting as mulch, the weather has been wet and foul. So one morning, I snuck him a handful of dog kibble. He ate it quickly, as soon as I got out of touching range. Feeling like a sap for encouraging him, I confessed to the DH. Turns out I married another sap...he'd already slipped him some that morning too. Bowing to the inevitable, I added a bowl of water to the mix.

A couple of days of this (much to the dogs' dismay; they don't like depredation of their food), and suddenly I am the proud owner of a bag of Little Friskies. But if I'm gonna feed this critter, I'm going to try to tame him to hand, at least. So one freezing night, I kneel on the concrete porch (I refer you once again to the blog title), and strew a couple pieces of kibble, holding the rest in my hand. Twilight eats the pieces on the porch, although he's obviously not happy that my hand is so close. He paces, scratching himself on the bush and rubbing against a planter. I make vaguely encouraging sounds, and he eventually takes a bit from my fingers, nibbling ever-so-gently on my thumb too. A few days of this, and he readily comes to feed from our hands, but still doesn't want to be touched. HISSST! he reminds us.

Every once in awhile we get a stroke in while he's distracted. The dogs are distracting, we find. None of them threaten him, although his back may go up if they bound up too quickly. Twilight and Jack especially like one another. They even do some rudimentary playing when we can get the other two out of the way. DH found he could touch the cat if he was otherwise occupied. So I decided to get a bit bolder. I cupped both my hands, with food only in one. As Twilight ate from my right, I scratched under his chin with my left. He was too greedy to object. He's incredibly soft and glossy for a cat that has been living in the rough.

Now he paces in front of the door, impatiently waiting for us to come out and meowing. He'll sleep up in a Rubbermaid container we have on the front porch that has some odds and ends in it, with a furniture cover on the top. He likes to sun there. He seems tempted to come in but won't, and that's probably just as well at this point. IF we can get him comfortable enough with us down the road, we'll try to get him to a vet for shots and neutering. But that's a big if.

Oh, and the biggest reason I'm a sucker? Although I had a gorgeous black cat growing up, now I'm highly allergic to cats. Breathing trouble, sneezing, eyes swelling shut...all of it. So why am I caring for this cat instead of calling animal control?

You guessed it. Sucker.