Tubbs McFatty and the Pink Paint: Part 2

As I made my way to see what the "pink paint" really was and where it was, I felt like one of those people who enter a dark house in a horror movie and creep down the hallway without turning the lights on.  Sure enough, there were paw prints everywhere, and it wasn't paint, much to my daughters' confusion.  My thoughts swirled, and I instantly realized what had happened.  Now what was I going to do?  When she was getting out of the closet in a hurried fashion (because I yelled at her and now I felt bad), Bella had managed to knock the fish vase off of the shelf, and it more or less exploded between the door and the wall.  She then landed on the shards of broken glass, cut her foot badly, and ran around the house trying to find the best "cozy spot" to get comfortable.  Blood was everywhere. 

I need to pause here and let you know that I'm not real strong with emergencies.  Particularly if blood is involved.  Although, this was before I was CPR/First Aid certified, so I like to think I've improved.  Still, if you have an emergency, I've got about 9 people I'll send to you first.  :)
Somehow, within 5 minutes, I had both girls and a hemorrhaging cat in the car.  I managed to get the girls to early morning care, then I walked into devotions to let my coworkers know why I had blood all over me and asked for help covering my class while I went to the vet.  (I work at the Christian school my girls attend, but more on that later.)  I didn't know exactly what I was going to do, but in the words of a friend of mine, I knew "it wasn't going to end well."  I tried to talk Bella out of dying, and called the vet she used to go to so they could tell me where to take her. 

At 8:10 am, the first customers of the day walked into Needham Animal Hospital, looking every bit as distressed as we felt.  We were quickly taken to an exam room and I explained what happened.  I told the tech that things would go better for everyone if they allowed me to assist since Bella wasn't what one would call "cooperative".  I told him she wouldn't bite and being declawed, couldn't scratch, and urged him to be prepared for the blood-curdling screams, shrieking, and other general nonsense that she'd use to appear fierce.  As he and I were preparing to assess the wound, sure enough, it started.  We looked at each other and at her, but we could handle it.  If there was an award for feline dramatic flair, she would win.  I SO called it.  However, what I wasn't prepared for was the vet bursting through the door and yelling, "Drop it!  Let it go!  You don't know what it'll do!!  Let it GO!" 

Next thing I knew, I was sitting on the floor, the tech was halfway out of the door, and the bleeding cat with the sliced foot was under a chair.  Not sure what had just happened, I coaxed her back out, realized I hadn't sufficiently warned the rest of the staff-- and greater Wilmington-- and he went for back up.  He was gone for a few minutes, then came back with the vet who had yelled at us, and she explained the unfortunate mixup.  A couple had brought in a cat that had been hit by a car, and when she heard the scream, she thought it was that cat.  Not knowing if it had rabies, she wanted to warn us that "our" cat could be dangerous.  Turns out, that cat sadly died right after it got there, so the screamer was none other than mine.  And I knew, we all did, that to get anywhere with her, she'd have to go in the aquarium -- a fish tank with a lid connected to a tube of whatever gas that anesthetizes cats -- and then have surgery.  They assured me they'd take great care of her (they did!) and I told her I'd see her in a little while.

I left, changed, and went to work.  The rest of the day was uneventful, and after work, the girls and I went to pick up our patient.  The injury to her foot had been pretty severe, and although they were able to repair the tendon, they said one of her toes might stick out some.  She did well during her surgery, and I took home a tired, hungry, rather subdued cat.  As I cleaned up the mess that afternoon, I realized that I had done what I never would've thought I could do.  If someone would've told me I'd have to do all that, and do it alone, I'd laugh.  Actually, I wouldn't laugh.  I'd say no.  Then worry a little.  But the truth is, God was with me each step.  He provided what I needed as I needed it.  She healed fine, and her gimpy toe doesn't cause her a bit of trouble.  I don't keep glass sculptures of any kind in the closet anymore, and although I hate that she got hurt, I'm glad I was able to be brave for her, even for a little bit.  There are so many things about Bella and all my pets that I love, enough to convince anyone I'm "one of those people", but I won't write them all here.  I will just say that I think pets teach us and show us things we wouldn't otherwise see and learn.  Occasionally, they write in "paint".

Bella "supervising" the writing of this post.

 

Tubbs McFatty and the Pink Paint: Part 1

This is Bella, aka "Tubbs McFatty".  She is our 9 year old, declawed calico, and she loves long walks on the beach, watching "Shark Week", and fine Italian cuisine.  K, I make up the last part, but it sounds like a personal ad, right? It's hard to describe someone or somecat withOUT sounding like that, but we'll go with it.  The way she's looking at me right now, says "Mooooooom, don't talk about me online!  No, you know what?  Do it.  I'll just sleep on your pillow tonight and make you curl up next to me in that uncomfortable spot on the corner and wake up with a sore neck.  So, yeah, go ahead."  Ok.  I will.

We have 3 pets and they all have distinct personalities and therefore many nicknames.  In Bella's case, Tubbs McFatty is the one we find the most humorous.  She eats more than any cat I've ever seen and runs like a cow, if/when she runs at all.  If you've ever seen a cow run, you know why that's funny.  Clearly, from the picture, you can see she is equally amused.  She is the first pet Chris and I got as a married couple.  We've had her for almost 7 years, and she is a sweet girl.  She is patient, cuddly, and loves to sleep on our feet.  Her favorite things include goldfish, sitting near the bathtub (yes, we're tempted at times to "nudge" her into the water), and rolling around on the sidewalk.  She loves to get right on top of whatever we're working on, like puzzles, knitting projects, homework, and a few minutes ago, this computer.  This indicates that our attention is misdirected, i.e., not on her.  While I definitely enjoy picking on my sweet Bella, don't worry, she doesn't mind.  She gets us back by scratching, or "scratching" I should say since she's declawed, the paper lamp by the back door til we let her out at inappropriate times.  It's a nightly battle of wills to see who can ignore/annoy longer, and she always wins.  No matter what we're doing, either Chris or I will eventually go let her out just so she STOPS.  Like all cats, she immediately wants to come back IN, making the whole event even more frustrating.  Bella: 273  Us: almost 1.

  The fondness Bella has for food and her family is equally matched in the hate she has for the vet.  I've heard calicos are like that, but I think it's just because she is quite the drama queen.  I have several vet stories, but I'll share just one, mainly because it's the only one that interesting enough for others to read about.  Especially if you don't like cats.  Or pets in general.  In which case, I thank you for reading.  There is an explosion (of sorts), suspense, blood, and screaming--so read on!  My friend Jodi has a list of reasons she doesn't have any pets, and I am responsible for about 60 items on said list.  Allow me to share one of our most memorable experiences at pet parents.  It's funny in the "it happened a long time ago" kinda way.

  While getting ready for our first Christmas in our new house, in December of 2008, we were trying to decide where to put the Christmas tree.  To make room, I moved a large, crackle glass fish vase from the mantel "safely" into my bedroom closet.  We set the tree up, nowhere near the mantel, of course, and Christmas was wonderful.  A few weeks later, while the tree was laying nicely in a corner of the backyard, the vase was still "safe" in my closet.  We forgot about it.  One morning, the girls and I were rushing around getting ready for school.  It was a last minute kind of morning, since Chris had left super early, and I didn't shut my closet after getting my clothes.  Can you tell where this is going???  A few minutes later, I hear shuffling noises, like papers and boxes falling, and I knew Bella was trying to make a cozy spot in what I THOUGHT was just computer cables and old CDs.  I yelled at her to get out, and like a flash, she ran out of my room.  Fast forward about 3 minutes. 

  Julia, who even at 3 was ready to leave before I was, came to tell me that Bella was "making footprints all over with the pink paint."  I put the curling iron down slowly and said, "Julia, we don't have any pink paint." 

...to be continued...

 

Better late than never

  I'm a little late to the party.  This whole blogging thing has been around for quite a while now, and yet, here I am, just getting started.  It isn't that I don't have lots to say, because I've got LOTS to say.  :)  It isn't that I don't know how to do it, I have Google.  And Google knows.  Everything.  It isn't that I don't have time.  I have time.  I just haven't done it.  It's like starting an exercise plan.  You know you NEED to, you tell people you're GOING to, and then...  life happens and you never start.

  So it is with me and blogging.  Actually, writing in general.  I love to write.  I always have.  I have lots of journals from over the years full of thoughts, plans, dreams, letters, etc.  There are scratch pads in my purse (among other things, but that's a whole post on its own!) with things I've started in a hurry that I didn't want to forget.  In fact, writing is a big part of what I now do for a living.  I write monthly newsletters and spend time maintaining our website at school, so I've asked myself why it's so hard to write for fun.  While I don't know why I haven't, I know why I am.  

  I have a book in my head. It has a title, 8 chapters (also with titles), and a really nice dedication to my loved ones.  But people can't read a book in your head.  And there is so much I have to share that God has done for me, and it needs to be shared with others.  I know that my God is always at work in my life.  He is abundantly faithful to me.  Each and every day brings new ways for Him to display His presence in my life, His love, His peace, His joy.  My life is not in any way exciting, as you'll soon learn, but it excites me to see how God works in all things, good and bad.  

  So, with that being said, I'm going to "blog the book", and other random things, too.  Why should you care, you ask?  Great question!  It is my sincere hope that as you read, you will feel blessed, enjoy a laugh (my girls are hilarious!), or just enjoy my hobbies with me.  Or for me.  I don't see guys running to buy the newest pair of knitting needles- even bamboo ones!  Most importantly, I want to display His faithfulness, as I have been blessed to see it.  I want you to see it too.