Terror Has a New Name...And It is Mabel

I want to thank all of you out there, many of whom de-lurked to offer me support, for the outpouring of kindness and love showed me when I wrote about our cat's passing. I was honestly terrified to share something so personal, but you all helped me with your encouragement and kind sentiments. I can never thank you enough.

Meet our new kitty. Yes she’s cute and fluffy and blah, blah, blah, but she is on some sort of kitty cat-nip laced speed of the likes I’ve never seen before.

She melts our heart with her squeaky meow, she makes us smile with her soft kisses and gentle head nudges. Then, just when you think everything’s going great, BAM! she pounces on your stray hand or your exposed neck and head area leaving you with bloody stumps or a severed mole. I’m just sayin’.

Witness the beating Jeremy’s hands took at the claws of our new furry terror.

Right about now, many of you may be thinking one of two things… 1) Isn’t it a little too soon to get another cat after your other cat just passed away? or 2) Has Steenky Bee suddenly turned into one of those annoying personal blogs about cats?

The answer to those questions, my friends, are: Yes it is too soon and no…well, maybe. I might write about our cats again in the future. Sorry.

The decision for us to get another kitty came at a weak moment when I was craving the warmth of something furry on my lap. Taz, or T-Bizzle, our 13-year old cat pictured later, is only a cuddler on his terms, and by his terms, of course, I mean on my head while I’m sleeping. Meesha was my constant side-kick that followed me from room to room and would respond to me as I bounced post topics off her for this blog. She was responsible for Dance Face post, Brush With The Law post and most recently, my Airplane Terror Ride post that was published posthumously.

Last week, as I tried to get back into the swing of writing again, I queried Taz as to what appropriate blog material would be for Steenky Bee. The closest thing to input I received from him was him licking himself and walking away after I asked him if I should post about the recent fetish I’ve developed for Bear Grylls.

When Taz wasn’t licking himself or sleeping under our bed, he was giving us what I believed was his sad face. Everybody, behold Taz’s “I am sad” face.

Make no mistake people, the size of his nose is not an optical illusion. It really is THAT big.

Surely Bizzle was missing Meesha, his cat-mate, his companion for so long. I could not allow him to go on lonely with no one to lick but himself. I also could not trust his judgment when it came to deciding content for my web site. So at the end of last week, Jeremy and I found ourselves at a small farm house picking up a kitten who we named Mabel.

Once we brought her home, I strategically placed a hand-written letter for the kids that was “penned” by Meesha herself. In this letter, she declared her love for Henry and Reese and introduced them to Mabel, the newest addition to our family, hand-picked of course, by her all the way from up in kitty heaven.

Needless to say, Henry and Reese were thrilled. The next few days of their lives were filled with their gleeful squeals when they found Mabel tucked away in a warm spot between the covers or their uncontrollable laughter as they watched Mabel chase her own tail.

I was sure Taz would be thrilled as well. He was not. Not immediately anyway. Here was his, “I’m not thrilled. Not now, anyway. I’m off to pee in Jeremy’s favorite shoes to demonstrate exactly how NOT thrilled I am.”

Oddly enough, Bizzle’s “I am not thrilled” face is the exact same as his “I am sad” face. Who knew?

I’m happy to report, after repeated transfer of scents by petting both Taz and Mabel excessively and encouraging positive behavior toward each other by speaking in soft, reassuring tones as they approached one another, the two of them are getting along famously. With patience, a sincere heart and a small melt down where you physically toss both animals into the guest bathroom for them to duke it out, acclimating cats to one another can be easy.

So Long April, You Bitch.

As far as months go, April, you were the worst. And you can suck it.

Work was a nightmare, complete with late night stints at the office, surprise weekend assignments and, my personal fave, last minute PowerPoint presentations. On seven different occasions. You’d think that after the fourth time management approached me and showed an unnatural interest in me or what my evening plans were I would have learned that what they really wanted to know was how difficult it would be to convince me to spend six extra hours tackling a deadline in the office instead of relaxing at home with my family.

Also? It rained on Easter. Not so much you fault, April. This one has Mother Nature written all over it, I know. But still, I find you guilty by association.

And another thing, Jeremy, who has never had to dial 911 in his life, had to dial those digits twice this month. One instance was because of a life-threatening situation with a colleague at work. She’s doing fine now, no thanks to you, April. The second 911 call? Well, that was due to a careless driver who ran herself off an icy canyon road in the snow. Many would say that the driver is at fault, but I say it was April. Icy roads at this time of the year, really April? Come on, spring started over four weeks ago. Enough with the weather already.

Let’s see, how can I forget that my baby girl took a tumble down our cement steps this month, both vehicle registrations were due and three nights IN A ROW one or more of our smoke detectors sounded off sometime around 2:00 am? Awesome.

Also? My four-year old son learned a choice phrase at school this month that was absolutely foreign to me. I even had to look it up online to see what the hell it meant. When I finally did find the definition, I just stared at my laptop for several minutes shaking my head in half disbelief, half embarrassment. I then spent the next half-hour figuring out how to work that phrase into a conversation with management the next time one of them asked me if I could spare a few minutes.

And, my cat died.

That’s right, the month of April killed my cat. I have no other explanation for this. She lived fifteen years as a healthy, happy part of my life and then, for some unexplained reason, other than having feline anemia and hyperthyroid disease, my dear kitty was gone.

Please don’t mock me. Please don’t roll your eyes and say to yourself, she’s only a cat. Meesha was more than that to me, to our entire family. She was with me through the most turbulent part of my life and helped me get myself back to where I was semi-tolerable to be around.

I give Meesha credit for helping me with Reese’s Torticolis physical therapy at home. I would use that cat as a target focal point for Reese to help our baby girl stretch and lengthen her neck and torso muscles. As a reward, when Reesie would twist or bend around far enough, Meesha would allow her to gently grab her fur, her ears or her tail. Meesha never once complained.

We did everything we possibly could to make Meesha's last day with us an enjoyable one. She was bright-eyed, albeit a little slower in her steps. I spent the day with her outside and watched her pounce on bugs, roll in the grass and I rubbed her soft fur as she sunned herself on our porch.

Our home is a bit quieter now, my lap a little colder. Meesha was my partner in crime over here at Steenky Bee. Whenever she saw me reach for the laptop she readied herself to take her usual position on my lap. I eventually grew used to holding my wrists up at an odd angle to accommodate her curled up body as I typed away and posted silly stories about my life. Now, it just doesn’t feel right. I no longer have that warm, purring armrest between me and the keyboard. I’ll miss you, Mimi-girl. This place won’t be the same without you.

I'm so sorry I haven't been by to visit anyone over the past week or so. I hope you'll give me a little time. I look forward to re-stalking you and leaving highly inappropriate comments soon.

Fattie Update: Involves Cats, Lack of Judgement and Donkey Parts

HASAY. So we meet again. It’s time for another fitness update. This one’s not a stretch, I promise. I actually exercised almost every part of my body this week with the exception of my better judgment area.

A little over a week ago, my husband offered to give me a Sunday to myself sans kids. I jumped at the chance thinking about all the projects I could finish up around the house without being interrupted every ten minutes to replenish chocolate milk or reset the DVR so that a new Spongebob Squarepants would play. And those are only my husband’s requests, I haven’t even mentioned my kids’ needs yet.

As my Jeremy pulled out of the driveway with both Henry and Reese in tow, I waved and shouted “Goodbye! I love you!”, but in my head I was thinking, “See ya later, suckas! I’m taking a nap!”

I immediately ran up the stairs, peeled off my go-to-town sweats and threw on my screw-the-world-I’m-laying-around-in-these-holey-sweats sweats. I then proceeded to have myself a cat nap. Not “cat nap” in the traditional sense where I nod off for twenty minutes and wake up feeling energized refreshed. No, I took myself a two hour doozy of a nap surrounded by my two cats. Meesha slept at my knees as usual and Taz took his regular position curled up on my head. That nap will go down as one of my top three naps ever, just behind the accidental nap Henry and I took last spring and a six hour nap I took my Sophomore year in college.

Anyway, I’m counting this most recent nap as a workout because when I woke up I was a tad bit sweaty and I was still tired. Feels like a work out to me. Since then, I’ve been trying to re-create the magic of that relaxing Sunday afternoon. I’ll call both cats into the bedroom and pat the bed and try to coax them into a nap with me. So far, neither of them are game. How is it that I can’t get these lazy cats to lie down with me again? Am I that horrible of a nap partner?

One time I even resorted to bringing cat treats into the bed to entice them, but they were having none of that. Taz sauntered into the bedroom, took one look at my ratty sweats and even rattier hair then turned around and made a run for it the other way. Actually, that’s not entirely true. He licked himself before he ran away from me.

The lack of cat cuddling eventually put me in a bit of a depression so I did what I typically do when I’m feeling low, I went for a walk to sort out my thoughts. I headed over to the nature trail system, a fifteen mile winding path for biking, jogging, rollerblading and spray paint tagging near our home. The cool air and liberal use of “sucks donkey ballz” written on the winding path was doing wonders for my funk and by mile two, I felt almost completely better about the cat situation. I was however becoming a little worried about the spray painter’s in depth knowledge of the anatomy of local donkeys.

Then suddenly, an unfamiliar ball of orange and white darted out of a bush along the trail. The quick motion caught me off guard and I stopped my pace to get a better look at the object scurrying in front of me. It was a cat. It looked well kept, so I knew that it wasn’t a stray, but probably just a house cat out for a stroll. I called out to it “Hey, kitty, kitty.” and was on my way.
Over the next few days, I continued my speed walks on the trail, and spied my new little orange and white friend along the way. Some days, he even had another cat or two with him. It was on day four when a stroke of genius hit me. If Taz and Meesha wouldn’t nap with me, maybe I’d recruit outside cats for the snuggle time.

I ran home, grabbed all of Henry’s art supplies and quickly whipped up what I thought was a genius marketing campaign to invite the local stray cats to spend some quality down time with me.

I nailed these up all along the nature trail that evening and anxiously counted down the days until the weekend arrived.

To my knowledge, to date, I’ve received no takers on my very generous offer. I did however receive a visit from the local code enforcement offer, who just so happens to be my fifth grade teacher, Mr. Hollingsworth. He forced me to sit through an uncomfortable half hour lecture on why it’s not safe, or sanitary to invite stray cats to sleep in your bed. He informed me it’s also illegal to use public property as a venue for advertising without a permit.

I was all, “Then you’d better talk to whoever’s been spending quality time with the local donkeys in town, Mr. H.!”

That outburst earned me a dirty look and five demerits from my former teacher. As he left our home, Mr. Hollingsworth turned to me and said that he didn’t know what upset him the most, that fact that I had no common sense or the fact that he’s responsible for not teaching me to spell “common” or “sense” properly.

Not sure what HASAY is? You should! Click here to find out more about the challenge.
My previous HASAY updates can all be found here.

Workin' Out And Close Encounters

Physical Therapy
So many of you might know that Reesie has a very mild form of Torticolis. A condition of limited neck motion. Reesie favors her left side, but she has Torticolis Right, meaning her right neck muscles need to lengthen and stretch. If you notice in some pictures of Reese when she is sitting upright and resting she tends to hold her head a little cocked to the right with her chin pointing to the left. Jeremy, her Pediatrician and I have been working with her for a about a month and we've made great strides. She's getting stronger every day.

Tuesday we had her first physical therapy appointment and she did so well! She lasted the entire 1 hour session. Apparently most children her age don't make it past 40 minutes. She has a very mild case and her mobility is looking good. We will go back next week for her second appointment. Basically they run Reesie through lots of stretches and floor exercises. I'll try to get a picture of the area where Reese "works out". It's vibrant and so colorful. She really liked it this week.

We set goals for Reesie to round out the back of her head a little bit, to increase strength and mobility in her neck, and to create some little abs of steel for her so she can be a little more stronger.

How Do You Do?
Wednesday, Reesie and I were doing some core strengthening exercises when an unexpected visitor stopped by.



Reesie was way excited to have a playmate.



Look at that grip.


Here's Reesie just holding onto Meesha.


Meesha was a good sport and let Reesie pull out some fur.



Reesie thought Meesha was so soft.



I used Meesha as a prop to get Reesie to really use those neck muscles.


Reesie made a friend for life.