pets

A friend and I had an interesting discussion yesterday regarding what constitutes a pet. For the most part, I don't think of my turtle as being the focus of those rental agreements that say "no pets". Pets are usually, and overwhelmingly, dogs and cats with maybe a hamster, guinea pig or gerbil for the younger people. Possibly a rabbit. My friend has an aquarium full of fish. She doesn't really think of them as pets, but more of a collection. Otherwise she'd be saying "I have 21 pet tropical fish" which sounds silly. We decided that a pet involves a degree of interaction between human and animal. The fish mostly interact with each other and my turtle at the moment is not interacting at all until he emerges from hibernation.

Anyway, for pets on stamps I have been looking forward to sharing a few from a 1963/4 series of dogs and cats.

above we have a Poodle, a Bulldog and an Airedale

and below a Persian, Siamese and European 

and my favourite...

These  are all the works of Polish illustrator Janusz Grabiańsk (1929-1976).

If you are not familiar, look at his luscious illustrations for children's books.

eating habits

I have always been amazed at people who would take a big bite of some food (or gulp of drink) only to discover it was something way too hot/spicy/distasteful etc. Perhaps it is because I was a picky eater as a child, but I have never not taken a small sample of the food, or not surreptitiously sniffed at it before putting anything in my mouth. That's not to say I haven't been caught off guard by an aftertaste, or chunk of too hot potato, or a burning from a chili, but at least I have never staggered around helplessly feeling as if I was dying. My mother once, when sushi was still a very new experience, covered her piece of whatever it was with a generous slather of wasabi. She was warned by my brother, but it was too late ("oh, I like horseradish") ... we all watched in horror as her face turned seven shades of red and the tears streamed. It may have been the only time I ever saw her drink beer.

You have all seen that piece about how to give a cat a pill. Abby was due for the second of her 1/4 appetite stimulant pill on Sunday night. A teeny, tiny, itty, bitty pill was already quartered with the first quarter given to her by the vet before she was fully awake from the sedation. We all knew it would be tough, but with her absolute love of yoghourt, I thought this minuscule thing could be crushed and stirred into the yoghourt. I put the crushed pill quarter into the bottom half of the container and gave it a little stir. Nope. Not interested. She just walked away. I thought maybe there was too much fruit left, so last night we tried again. I even gave up the whole 125g snack sized French Vanilla Activia yoghourt for the cause. Nothing doing. She came running and looked at it and walked around the container. She sniffed it. She very hesitantly put her tongue close to it and took a tentative tiny lap. And spent several seconds trying to get it off her tongue. She pawed and moved the container around the floor and walked around it again... I took a spoonful and put it in a saucer, hoping she would think it was something new... not a chance. I even tried tasting it myself, wondering what kind of reaction I would have (but then, I am a little weightier than a cat, any cat. household cat, that is). Everything tasted as I would have expected it should. I tried spooning it into her. I tried spreading it on her face for her to lick off. She hadn't eaten anything all day, so I was getting a little worried. She knew it was yoghourt. She knew she liked it, but no way was she going to dive in and lap it up.

Today, I gave her a my finished yoghourt bowl, without any pill fragments... all gone in seconds.

dear abby

We are all full of cuddles and purrs and head scratches now.

But yesterday was another story.

I came home and woke the cat up to shift her off the middle of the bed and instead of climbing off in a snit, she staggered around, could barely open her eyes and I was convinced she could not see. Poor thing was as limp as a dishrag.

A couple of hours later, I came back from an appointment and a fruitless search for a veterinary clinic that could see her immediately and she seemed to have gained at least enough strength to get to the litter box for a pee. Which wasn't as much of a good thing as I'd thought when the vet at the emergency hospital later couldn't get a 'sample'.

And, as I knew would be necessary, she had to be sedated before anything could be even thought of being done. Because, my sweet little cat turns into a howling, hissing, spitting monster whenever she gets to a vet's office. Or feels her personal space is being invaded. Or sometimes when she just doesn't like you any more.

But, really, she is the nicest, most friendly cat - she will be the first to greet you at the door and will do that floppy thing all over your feet that cats are wont to do. She will purr loudly and smile when you give her a scratch behind the ears or under the chin. She will later be the perfect hostess and come from wherever she has gone to nap to say goodbye and see you off when you are ready to leave. She may even go out into the hall and walk you to the elevator and hang about for a final head scratch. But, without any warning she can suddenly turn nasty. Of course, the vet's visit is enough warning, even if she did quite happily crawl into the wicker James Herriot style carrier for the journey.

She looked a little pathetic, really, once the sedation had kicked in. And I felt like such a bad mummy for not realizing until then just how skinny she had become. I knew she wasn't quite as hefty as she once was - she was never fat exactly, but she was sturdy; chunky I would say. There was no slender leg above her thick ankles and big paws. But, as the vet says, it is hard to notice these changes with a cat who sleeps 23 hours a day....

Anyway, a few hundred dollars later and a small vial of appetite stimulant and she is sprightlier than ever and certainly ready for lots (lots!) of lovin'. But, Abby, you have had nearly 16 years of vet avoidance and now you will have to get used to more visits (and more sedation) if you are diabetic and having kidney problems.

and then it snowed

Of course, it wasn't Ottawa's fault that the temperature plummeted from 27C (80F) to 4C (39F) overnight and just in time for the world renowned Tulip Festival. Or that the driest winter and spring we've ever had suddenly decided to turn wet and windy and miserable. Or that I came prepared for the weather people to be wrong about the cold. My sandals were ditched and I was awfully pleased with my gifted scarf from Paris and I knew that if I dug around in the trunk of my car I'd find a pair of dollar store one size fits all gloves.
Because by Sunday, the rain turned to snow.

The earlier warm weather of March and April brought out many of the blooms two weeks earlier than anticipated.

Then again, tulips only bloom for about a week to ten days, so there's always different varieties of early and late bloomers planted to keep the gardens full.

The raindrops made for nice photos (if you could keep the horizontal rain off the camera lens).

Too bad about the wind and rain that battered a few of the blooms ... and the spectators.

I have wanted to go to the Tulip Festival in Ottawa for several years and I thought, with this year marking the 65th anniversary of the Liberation of Holland, that this should be the year to visit. The tulips were a gift from Princess Juliana of The Netherlands for helping out her family by giving them refuge in Canada during the occupation and then liberating her country. Over 120,000 bulbs were given the first year after 1945 and they have been continuing to arrive every year since. Now there are about 3 million of them decorating the city. I didn't count them all, but that seems to be the accepted number, although maybe only 1 to 2 million were blooming at one time.

So XUP and Jazz and I ventured out into the rain and dodged the many, many Japanese tourists taking pictures of themselves tiptoeing through the tulips.

A few umbrellas got in the way of the photos.


I'm not exactly sure what I expected the tulip festival to be like. Maybe a little more festival-ish.
Though, to be fair, we missed the street party on Friday where Ottawa planned to hold its 'first-ever liberation street party ... to recreate the spontaneous party that broke out when the news of the end of World War II first hit the streets on May 7, 1945'. And there was a parade of 'vintage jeeps and vehicles and costumes' and a fly past of WWII aircraft which we didn't quite manage to see. As I recall, we were eating during those events. And we missed the vintage wine auction to be held next weekend. We didn't find the beer tent with the special brew created just for this anniversary. Considering the festival runs from May 7th to May 24, a surprising amount of preparations were still to be done.

Displays and tents were still to be put up for events held only later in the week. (why not when the festival opened?) The lacklustre food tents and crafts tent just left us wanting for a warm, dry marketplace. And with so much construction, it was difficult to get near the war memorial and the display of archival photos about the history of the tulips and Ottawa.

After a while of wandering in the cold after Jazz went home and XUP was being feted by XUP Jr for Mother's Day, I sought refuge in the National Art Gallery just in time for a Bach Choir to perform in the Rideau Chapel (click on link to see pictures the restored and reconstructed chapel, because I followed the rules and did not take any illegal photographs).

But the weekend wasn't only about tulips.

Jazz and I had the opportunity to break burnt toast bread with some of the many bloggers in Ottawa. There are an awful lot of people in Ottawa who just can't keep their thoughts to themselves and they are an organized, fun bunch who get together every couple of months for breakfast and even for an annual Blog Out Loud.

And XUP puts on a great wine and cheese spread.

And that Bazel cat is most entertaining.

Now, go read XUP's version of the weekend.

...and now Jazz has hers up.

and then there is laundry

Oh yeah.

She looks all innocent.

and then she throws up all over the bed… again.

Now we are on $35.99/3kg cat food for her poor tummy.

apparently, we are feeling better.

SundayStills - pets

Absynthe

What do you mean "I want a picture, look cute?"

I was sleeping... and I'm going back to sleep.

Go take a picture of the turtle...

oops, Otis isn't too happy about this photo taking either.

Abby is now 14 years old and Otis is an astounding 25 years old.
Neither are terribly cuddly.
Luckily, only the cat likes to sleep on my chest.

Pets was the first Sunday Stills photo challenge a year ago, and we are revisiting the same challenge with dozens of newer participants (myself included), so check out the other pets who rule over us here.

SundayStills - happiness is

Those of you who read this regularly know that I work nights.
My quitting one of my jobs last month didn't pan out quite as expected, well, not as planned.
And trying to be helpful for a friend this past week hasn't been as good an idea as I thought.

But,

Happiness is...
one of the bonuses of working nights is seeing the sunrise as I am finishing and heading home. A sunrise over the water. A view that, sadly, is threatened with development. So, every time I get to wander through to this favourite spot, I am happy.

Happiness is...
a nap in a warm, sunny spot, with my favourite chenille throw
(and my cat Abby)

Happiness is...
hanging out with someone beloved where you can be yourself

Happiness will be a far flung family getting together for a feast and a gathering and a housewarming...
but that is next weekend for Thanksgiving (Canadian style)

see more happiness at SundayStills

Monday AMuse

To be posted VERY LOW on the refrigerator door - pet nose height.

Dear Dogs and Cats:

The dishes with the paw prints are yours and contain your food. The other dishes are mine and contain my food. Please note, placing a paw print in the middle of my plate and food does not stake a claim for it becoming your food and dish, nor do I find that aesthetically pleasing in the slightest.

The stairway was not designed by NASCAR and is not a racetrack. Beating me to the bottom is not the object. Tripping me doesn't help because I fall faster than you can run.

I cannot buy anything bigger than a king sized bed. I am very sorry about this. Do not think I will continue sleeping on the couch to ensure your comfort. Dogs and cats can actually curl up in a ball when they sleep. It is not necessary to sleep perpendicular to each other stretched out to the fullest extent possible. I also know that sticking tails straight out and having tongues hanging out the other end to maximize space is nothing but sarcasm.

For the last time, there is no secret exit from the bathroom. If by some miracle I beat you there and manage to get the door shut, it is not necessary to claw, whine, meow, try to turn the knob or get your paw under the edge and try to pull the door open. I must exit through the same door I entered. Also, I have been using the bathroom for years --canine or feline attendance is not required. The proper order is kiss me, then go smell the other dog or cat's butt. I cannot stress this enough!

To pacify you, my dear pets, I have posted the following message on our front door:

To All Non-Pet Owners Who Visit & Like to Complain About Our Pets:

1. They live here. You don't.
2. If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture. That's why they call it 'fur'niture.
3. I like my pets a lot better than I like most people.
4. To you, they are an animal. To me, he/she is an adopted son/daughter who is short, hairy, walks on all fours and doesn't speak clearly.

Remember: Dogs and cats are better than kids because they:

1. Eat less
2. Don't ask for money all the time
3. Are easier to train
4. Normally come when called
5. Never ask to drive the car
6. Don't hang out with drug-using friends
7. Don't smoke or drink
8. Don't have to buy the latest fashions
9. Don't want to wear your clothes
10. Don't need a gazillion dollars for college, and...
11. If they get pregnant, you can sell their children

9 days on

Violet is still ... under the weather. Unwell. I thought I heard her say she was feeling "wretched" this morning when she came in from work. I'm sure she didn't mean it.

I am getting worried about her eating habits, though. She keeps picking at those candy dishes she has laid out all over the place. And her breath, well, it smells a little, weird. I keep trying to get really close to determine the various notes, but every time she starts coughing and wheezing and getting all drippy.

Yep. Must be those Ricola candies she's constantly eating.

I think I'll take them away from her, one by one.

Abby is here to help you, my pet.

daft draft

There is a draft on my feet. My place is actually a trifle chilly. A little surprising as I live in a high rise.

It is the air conditioner's fault.

No, I don't have it on. Actually, I don't even think I turned it on once all summer. Which would make it doubly a shame to go to all that effort to remove it only to put it back in the window next summer. And maybe not use it.

But there is a definite draft coming from all around the unit. Needs a blanket of plastic over it methinks.

But for now, I'll take my tea and return to the cosy room.

Where I have my own perpetual footwarmer.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I thought I'd start on getting my meager decorations out of their boxes and in view to be enjoyed.
This one is one of my many bird ornaments and I enjoy him so much I've kept him out all year.