Tag Archives: cats

Thirty-Five


I’ve thought for years that 2013 would be my year – the year when everything finally worked out, and I’d be “successful” (whatever that means). I thought this because I was convinced that I would come into my own when I finally turned thirty-five. I’m not sure why I thought this, but I just did.

After the weekend I’ve just had, I would have to be fucking Pollyanna to continue to believe that this is going to be the case. For the last forty-eight hours, I’ve basically lain in bed the whole time, staring at the ceiling, and crying.  I was supposed to go to work yesterday, and today, but I called in sick. I don’t think I’m going to go tomorrow either.

I have done no housework for days, and there is barely a clean dish to make myself any food, so I don’t eat anything or, if I do, it’s cereal. Much to my eternal shame and guilt, I also didn’t feed any of the pets until long after the usual time because I couldn’t rouse myself to get out of bed to do so.

I have no clean clothes, and, in fact, I’ve slept in the ones I’m currently wearing two nights in a row. It goes without saying that I haven’t brushed my teeth or washed my face, and my hair looks like I stuck my finger in an electric socket.

I also haven’t cleaned the litter boxes in days, which is a big, big problem when you have so many cats. What with the terrible stench in the house and my dishevelled, dirty appearance, I am a classic crazy cat lady.

I feel very hopeless, isolated and lonely. I know that I need to get back to meditating, and start working the SLAA steps, but both of these tasks seem so daunting, and time-consuming. I want a quick fix! I know that’s lazy, but I do. Or I want a guarantee that meditating and doing the steps will revolutionize my life. I want the promise of results, goddammit!

I think that part of the reason I’ve stopped meditating and haven’t started working the steps yet is because I am scared to death that they won’t help me. This makes no logical sense whatsoever, but, in some way, it’s comforting not to do anything, as that way I can hold on to the hope that there is something out there that could help me. If I start meditating/working the steps, and they don’t help, then I’ll have nothing. All hope will be gone.

It’s the same way with writing. How much easier it is to sit on the sidelines, bitching about other people I consider less talented than myself who are successful writers than actually getting around to doing any writing myself. It’s comforting to think of myself as a talented writer who “just cannot get started” rather than a “writer manqué” who just doesn’t have it in her to be successful.

I don’t have faith in anything at the moment – not myself and certainly not a Higher Power.

 

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Missing Cat


I’m feeling very down today. I’m not sure why. It could be a case of the “gets-worse–before-it-gets-better” Prozac blues. I am also feeling not at all connected to people, or humanity in general. I was supposed to go out with colleagues from work last night, but I decided not to go because (a) I was exhausted (Prozac again?) (b) while I like my colleagues, they’re not people I would usually associate with if I hadn’t met them at work and (c) I’m tired of going out and getting drunk, and making superficial connections with people.

I had texted a colleague earlier that afternoon to let him know I wouldn’t be there, and he only texted me back at 11:30 p.m. saying “Hey, thanks for the heads up. I just noticed you weren’t there”. Really? It took him 3.5 hours (the night-out started at 8:00 p.m.) to realize I wasn’t there?! Other colleagues had texted me wondering where I was, but, of course, I concentrated on the one who didn’t. I was immediately filled with anger towards this guy, and found myself thinking “Fuck you, you self-absorbed dick”. It’s not great that I had this reaction, but I now at least try to ponder what could be the real emotion behind the anger. With me, it’s usually sadness I guess – feeling that I’m not important, that I don’t matter, that nobody notices me or anything I do.

Since I’m feeling so lonely, I indulged in a little bit of romantic intrigue via email with the incredibly witty and smart client I mentioned in a recent post. We really hit if off during the massage session a couple of weeks ago, and once he got home that night, he emailed asking if he could take me out for a drink. I was tempted to take him up on the offer, but no good can come of a sex worker dating a client, so I declined. But that didn’t stop me engaging in some flirty witty banter with him yesterday. Thankfully, I’ve nipped it in the bud, as email/text/iMessage flirtation is often the way I start to get obsessed with a guy.

I know this is incredibly hypocritical given that I’m perfectly happy to take their money, but I don’t really respect or trust any of my clients. I’m not saying that they’re bad guys (because they’re not) but they’re probably not the healthiest of people. They’re either seeing me behind their partner’s back, or they’re single but using my services to avoid facing some difficult area of their life. I just don’t want to get involved with a client because that’s not the kind of man I want for myself. I would like somebody more self-aware. Before you leave a comment telling me what I hypocrite I am, please know that I do realize that I am not the healthiest person either.

I am also sad this weekend because of an encounter with a cat yesterday that ended badly. About a month ago, a big, friendly, fat tom cat turned up outside my door miaowing loudly one night. He was there two nights in a row, which struck me as odd, as he didn’t seem like the kind of cat whose owners would let roam about at night. I fed him, and he didn’t seem particularly hungry, so I just assumed he belonged to somebody but maybe liked wandering about occasionally. I told myself that if he was there three nights in a row, I would assume he was a stray and do something to help. He never came back. But yesterday he did, and he was completely fucked up. Skinny, nose covered in scabs, eyes all gungy, and with a wound on one of his hind legs with maggots crawling on it. I took him to the local vet who said he thought he had been hit by a car. The poor wee guy didn’t make it. He died shortly after arriving at the vet’s.

I feel very bad because it was tough to see this once healthy cat in such terrible condition. I hate to think about how much pain he must have been in. Some “Missing Cat” posters appeared in my street earlier this week, and the cat on them looked very much like the cat who died. I called the owner and he visited the vet to view the body, and he confirmed that it was indeed his cat. Apparently the owner was in-between apartments, and had given the cat to some friends temporarily, and he had escaped weeks ago. The guy doesn’t own a car, and lives on the other side of town, so that’s why it had taken him so long to put up the “Missing Cat” posters. I feel that I should have taken better care of this cat when he arrived on my doorstep the first time. Looking back, I can now see that he was really affectionate and attention-seeking the two nights he was outside my house. I have eight cats of my own for God’s sake, so why did I not recognize that he was lonely, confused and wanted somebody to help him?

Poor kitty cat. If any good came out of this, it’s that he died somewhere comfortable with people with him, and not lying in the gutter all alone.

Two steps forward…one step back


If there’s a God, I think that I must have done something to really piss him off. Every time it seems like my life is getting back on track, something happens to derail all my plans, and put me in a worse situation than before.

That’s what happened with teaching. I moved out of the house I’d lived in for five years, and went to live in a shitty, red-neck town in the middle of nowhere because it was the only place I could find a job. I knew it would suck, but I thought it was worth spending a year there  to get a career started. Things didn’t work out at all so I moved back to the town I’d been in before, only to find myself living in a shit hole with landlords who never fix anything. Worse still, I came back more in debt than ever before, and with more relationship troubles (my husband couldn’t find a job in the town we lived in, and he resented moving there).

If anything good came out of my aborted teaching career, it was the knowledge that I do not ever want to fucking try to teach again. It’s just not for me. If I hadn’t had that awful experience, I would probably have moved to a different state and tried teaching there, which would have been a huge waste of time, money and energy.

In some ways, I landed on my feet when I arrived back in town. I found a job in a large company which is, as far as these things go, a good, fairly relaxed place to work. I’m currently a contractor, but I will be interviewing soon for a full-time position there and, if I get hired, it will mean, of course, more job stability and a few hundreds more a month. It’s not much but it’s something.

Things were finally starting to look up!

Until last Saturday that is. That was when one of my cats decided it would be a really good idea to jump into my neighbour’s yard where, unbeknownst to her, there were two very large dogs waiting for her on the other side. What were you doing letting your cat out unsupervised, I hear you ask?! Well, ironically, my husband and I were fixing our fence that day to make it harder for the cats to get out. Since we were busy working on the fence, we just didn’t notice the cat leaving our yard. Ha! Also, our cats hardly ever are allowed outside.

Do I really need to tell you what happened to my cat? She’s nine pounds and the two dogs must have been around fifty to sixty pounds each. MM scaled the fence as soon as we heard all the commotion and pitiful screeching sounds coming from my cat while I – to my eternal shame – stood in my yard for a few seconds, not wanting to follow him because I was too scared to imagine what I might see. I eventually went over the fence, and helped my husband get the two dogs off my cat.

Miraculously, she survived but she was pretty fucked up – three broken ribs; punctures wounds to the fat pad on her stomach; internal bruising (although thankfully nothing was punctured) and an open wound on one of her legs. I am now $5000 poorer. Yes, you heard that right – $5000. She was in the cat version of intensive care at an emergency vet for two days, and then she was transferred to a specialty hospital where a vet operated on her stomach to remove flesh that was rapidly becoming necrotic.

I made the mistake of telling my colleagues about my $5000 vet bill, and  I could practically smell the judgement pouring off of them, not to mention the ridicule. It’s safe to say that most people wouldn’t spend $5000 on a pet, especially $5000 they don’t have. They think I’m absolutely fucking bat shit crazy. I don’t regret my decision, though. This cat is a member of my family, and what was I going to do? Let her die? I don’t think so. I would never spend lots of money on an animal if all I was doing was prolonging an already miserable, painful life to make myself feel better, but the cat had a good chance of survival, and I just could not put her down.

I’m delighted she’s still alive (way to go, cat! All nine pounds of you took on one hundred pounds of dog!), but I have no idea how I”m going to pay this bill. I’ll be using CareCredit to pay for it initially but this company is such a rip off. I have twelve months of interest free credit for the emergency vet bill of $2000 (so, about $170 per month) and then I have only six months of interest free credit for the specialty clinic bill  of $3000 (so, $500 per month). Somehow I have to come up with $670 extra per month. If I don’t, the APR is something ridiculous after the promotional period ends.

Someone recently commented on my furry family (I have eight cats and two dogs) and said that it’s never good to be too extreme in life – whether with religion, politics, drugs/alcohol or animals. He said that if my animals stop me from doing what I want to do in life it’s no good. I guess I agree, on some level, but my animals are my family, and I care for them deeply.

On the other hand, I am now going to have to spend so much time working (whether overtime at my regular job, or escorting) that there’s not going to be any time left over to work on the things I want to to improve my life.

People who don’t like animals are weird.


I’m not sure how long I have until the battery on my iPhone dies, so I’ll make this quick. I’ve decided to do NaBloPoMo again, so it would be embarrassing if I missed the first day.

Sitting in a café, sipping on yet another soy chai, and listening to the Velvet Underground, and to the overly-tattooed barista say “dude” and “man” too much. I’ve just returned from a volunteering session with this high school senior I’ve been mentoring since last October. I helped him pass the reading section of the SAT’s, and now I’m helping him find and apply to scholarships. He’s a good kid – very polite and responsible.

My meeting with the musician didn’t go terribly well on Monday. Well, he was nice enough but we just didn’t click. I could tell we wouldn’t as soon as he walked through the door. You may call that overly judgemental; I’d call it intuition. He was one of those people who don’t like revealing anything about themselves, or care to ask you much about yourself. How the hell are you supposed to have a conversation in that kind of situation? People like that scare me, to be honest. I have realized, through experience, that some people are like that because they’re shy or socially awkward, but this guy wasn’t like that. He was just guarded. Why be guarded? What are you hiding?

I also didn’t like the fact that he completely ignored my cats and dogs. I have well-behaved animals, so it wasn’t like they were all over him, causing mayhem. My dog did sniff around him a bit, and, for some reason, decided she liked him, and lay beside him on the couch but again…nothing. Didn’t acknowledge her existence except maybe a slight sign of irritation. I don’t expect people to love my pets anywhere near as much as I do, or to pay them as much attention, but I find it off-putting when people treat them as an inconvenience, or just simply ignore them. I realize that some people are scared of animals or have alleriges, but this wasn’t this guy. I can’t help but think that people who don’t like animals are missing the compassion gene.

What do you think? Have I got a point?

Wisdom toothless crazy cat lady.


Somehow I have found the motivation to start writing again despite the urge just to sink back down into a pit of lethargy. I wish I could find the desire to write more, but it’s just gone. I’m sure it’ll come back eventually, but right now I have very little to write about. I am horribly uninspired. For this reason, I didn’t do NaNoWriMo. I thought about entering a short story competition this month but I know it’s not going to happen. Somewhere in the deepest darkest depths of my psyche, I’m sure there’s a little voice screaming, “You abject fucking failure!”, but, to be quite frank, I can’t even rouse myself from my lethargy to self-flagellate myself for once.

I know this makes me sound really unhappy, but I’m not really. I wouldn’t say I’m happy (and I’m certainly not content) but I’ve definitely experienced far darker days than this. What I will say is that my days just seem incredibly humdrum. It was, of course, Thanksgiving recently and then it was my birthday, but every single day, whether it’s a day of celebration or not, seems to be exactly the same. They all just blend into each other.

Sometimes I wonder whether I should be concerned that I’m not unhappy. I’m somebody (correction: used to be somebody) who needs (needed) a lot of stimulation, variety and change and yet here I am appparently OK with leading a very narrow, little existence. Besides Midwestern Man, I don’t have any friends. It’s so difficult to build meaningful friendships, as most people here seem to prefer having casual acquaintances. I can’t be bothered having superficial casual chit-chat, so I just stay at home, hanging out with my ever increasing menagerie of cats and dogs and, of course, my husband. On the rare occasions when I do go out, I have fun, but I would have been just as content staying at home with my pets. Is is natural that I’ve become a crazy cat lady, or is this some new kind of depression which has snuck up on me without my realizing it?

On Wednesday, Midwestern Man and I will have our first ever couples counselling session. There is nothing terribly wrong with our relationship, but I do think that we need to learn how to communicate better. And I do wish that our relationship and sex life were more passionate. I miss the days when I would be crazy with lust for a man. I just don’t feel that way for Midwestern Man. I think he’s extremely handsome, but I don’t have the urge to rip his clothes off at all. This worries me but, on the other hand, every time I did want to rip a guy’s clothes off, he was usually a completely unreliable, abusive arsehole. Midwestern Man (who, from now on will be known simply as MM, because it takes too long to type “Midwestern Man” – and, besides, it’s a ridiculous name anyway) makes me feel safe and stable, and I just don’t find that very sexually exciting.

It’s so hard for me to know what a healthy relationship is because I’ve never had one before. My lack of sexual passion for MM could be a glaring sign that we’re not right for each other; or it could be a sign that I’m only sexually attracted to people who are bad for me.

Oh, God, whatever…I’m boring myself here.

Since I last wrote here, I’ve had my wisdom teeth removed and went for my immigration biometrics appointment. The wisdom teeth surgery was far, far easier than I expected. I was sleepy the day of the operation (as a result of the anaesthetic) but I was back to normal the day after. I has absolutely no facial swelling whatsoever, which was a surprise. I almost wished it had been harder to get over because MM took care of me so well, and was so sweet and attentive, that I could easily have lived like that forever!

The immigration biometrics appointment was also a piece of cake. All they do is take your picture and fingerprints. It will get really interesting in February when MM and I will have to go for our immigration interview. Of course, we’ve got nothing to hide, as it’s not like we’re committing visa fraud, but such situations always make me nervous.

That’s all for now, folks. Sweet dreams.

Awake


I managed to get up early today, around 7:00 a.m., which is a relief. It was hard not to with the new kitten climbing on my head, and purring loudly in my ear. He also has a very annoying habit of nibbling on my extremities, and sometimes on my chin. I can only hope he will grow out of this. For a cat who was given to me in the most pitiful, malnourished state, he really is incredibly frisky and naughty. Probably the naughtiest, most energetic kitten I’ve ever had actually! His eyes are much better, but there does seem to be some recurrence of the feline herpes virus, as his eyes are running a little now. New flare-ups are apparently common in cats who’ve had this disease, especially at times of stress or with a change of environment. I need some new antibiotic ointment for his eyes, which I was gratified to learn I can get online without a prescription, thus saving me an expensive trip to the vet (hurrah!). For those people who find this blog while searching for information about cats and the feline herpes virus, let me just add that giving cats a regular dose of the amino acid l-lysine is supposed to help prevent flare-ups. I’ve never tried it myself, but I might get some this week.

Right now, I’m feeling not too bad because it’s good to have some food in the house. It’s very depressing to have empty cupboards. I’ve enjoyed my several cups of coffee. It’s amazing, isn’t it?, just how important the simple pleasures in life are. When I have plenty food, and tea or coffee, it never occurs to me how lucky I am. Then, when they’re gone, life is a small misery.

VanillaPod

Yesterday at the grocery store, I noticed that there was coffee for sale containing whole vanilla pods. Apparently you just grind around 1″ of the pod along with the coffee you’d need to make a full pot. I nearly bought this coffee, but then I thought ‘Why pay more for them adding the vanilla pods when I can just buy my own later and add them myself?” I’m very excited about the idea of adding vanilla to my coffee. I just looooooove vanilla. It makes things smell so warm and soothing. Nearly all of my beauty products have vanilla in them.

I’m somewhat interested in Ayurvedic Medicine, and it’s just fascinating to me how all of the food stuffs I naturally gravitate towards, such as vanilla, are the ones which are apparently good for my body type (“Vata” I think). There are things I enjoy which Ayurveda says are bad for me (coffee and alcohol are the ones which spring to mind!) but, oh, I know they’re bad for me. It’s crazy. I used to always feel bad, as a vegan, for despising raw vegetables. There’s really nothing I would rather eat less than a salad! According to Ayurveda, though, this is because I get chilled easily (oh, yes!) and cold vegetables are not warming, and are hard for me to digest (oh, yes!). There’s no way in hell I’ll ever be a raw food vegan. Oh, my God, no. The torture!

Sometimes I really wish I could become a herbal medicine practitioner. I’m most interested in Western Herbal Medicine, and Ayurveda. Chinese Herbalism doesn’t interest me so much. As a Western European, it doesn’t make sense to me that so many people of European-extraction here in the US study only Chinese Herbalism. Why not study Western Herbalism as well given that it also has such a long lineage, and that’s where your roots are? It seems that the two systems really complement each other, and that it would be best to learn both.

However, now I’m waffling so off I go to start my day. Take this quiz if you’re interested in finding out about your body type is according to Ayurveda!

Am I the first sex worker Nostradamus?


Nostradamus I was a bit perturbed today to learn that there had been a tsunami in Samoa and American Samoa because I had a dream about being caught in a tsunami yesterday. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence , but it is a bit weird because I’ve never dreamed about a tsunami before. Then again, maybe I am the 21st century version of Nostradamus. You just never know. I suppose you’ll just have to keep reading this blog every day to find out if the end of the world is nigh.

In the dream I was in a big, elegant building with lots of other people, and we were all trying to take refuge on the upper levels from the imminent tsunami. I was anxious because my animals were with me, and I wanted to make sure they were all safe. Just when I got to safety, I realized that one of my cats (the new kitten?) was still down below, and I had to go back to rescue him. The building had really long windows, going from the floor to the ceiling, so I could see out really clearly. Just as I picked up the kitten and was heading up, I could see the tsunami waves come crashing down about to hit the windows.

Don’t know what happened after that. Then the dream switched to me being in a taxi in Glasgow, driving through the city at night. I liked the taxi driver at first, and I was so glad to be home, but the cunt stole an expensive camera I was carrying in a plastic bag, and tried to give me a cheapo one instead. Fucking Glasgow taxi drivers. Even in your dreams, they’re wide bastards.

Oh, well. That’s all for tonight, folks. I’m off to ma bed to get some kip. Let’s see what predictions tonight’s dreams bring.