tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90544105687744750442024-02-19T17:43:28.651-08:00Don't BlinkMy adventures through life! :)Caitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818268884074943548noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054410568774475044.post-18176999516343897142015-04-22T07:49:00.002-07:002015-04-22T07:53:13.289-07:00My Shadow Has 4 legs and Barks at EverythingBeing kept up at night by barking dogs was not an unusual thing in the apartment complex we were in. Most of the time, little yippy type dogs were all over the place and constantly barking up a storm. But when a dog barked from 7pm until 7am, with a bigger deeper bark than normal, I couldn't fall asleep. I posted statuses about how I was going to have to talk to someone about keeping their dog quiet at night, how some of us were trying to sleep. Little did I know those barks would change my future, forever.<br />
<br />
I came home from work one night, around 10, to find the source of the barking, a medium sized black dog who had no collar that I could see, and was terrified of everything. I tried to coax it over to me, and failed, the dog ran into the night and wasn't seen that night - although it was heard.<br />
<br />
The next night was the same thing. I even had peanut butter to offer this time. And again, I pushed too far and wound up scaring the dog into the night.<br />
<br />
But I didn't hear barking that night. Or the next.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihBdvHFwB6qKZpBVRJRkHeKXiK7B9yrVaKpzfgQqbCtKQKH31k4h-dz1cvhyphenhyphenI4UFLy-7hUcuCEQ7rj1dzVgEVCRXeSb_4jp8k0O00fp_BaFIQihtjl7UYUDXLowy9kJ2vMB-Ozg62zUVXY/s1600/535559_10151109589616689_86459332_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihBdvHFwB6qKZpBVRJRkHeKXiK7B9yrVaKpzfgQqbCtKQKH31k4h-dz1cvhyphenhyphenI4UFLy-7hUcuCEQ7rj1dzVgEVCRXeSb_4jp8k0O00fp_BaFIQihtjl7UYUDXLowy9kJ2vMB-Ozg62zUVXY/s1600/535559_10151109589616689_86459332_n.jpg" height="320" title="" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first picture I have of her!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I started to get worried that maybe something had happened to the poor thing. Hoping it had just found its way home.<br />
<br />
Then the dog showed up once more. Armed with a slip lead from work, 12 cans of Pedigree, a small bag of Ol Roy (I ran back out to Walmart when I heard the dog again), a squeaky toy, a small jar of peanut butter, and a whole lot of determination, I even managed to get Tristan involved in capturing the dog.<br />
<br />
5 hours later, the sun is starting to come up, I've chased the poor thing all around the parking lots, people have asked me to shut my dog up and I've explained that it's actually been quiet for most of the night dealing with me, and it's not mine. I heard people threaten to shoot it if I ever let it out, or bark, again. I knew what I had to do. Even Tristan gave up, and decided to go to bed, leaving me with a dog to capture on my own.<br />
<br />
Eventually, both of us exhausted, she rolled onto her side, and let me put the slip lead over her neck. She fought with me for a minute, before willingly following me back to the apartment. We immediately threw her in the spare bathroom for a scrub, and doused her with Dawn. There were no fleas (we have no idea how that happened), but several ticks that we spent the next few days trying to pick off of her.<br />
<br />
Our plan was to wait until Monday (I caught her Saturday night), and call the rescue I worked with at Petsmart and release her to them.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNhBY2GRoos3qSAu2tUpyOCiXRN4xEHB_fqdFg0pURt72pYVxbaQq-yptg-QuNhlhS1D6BVslgW-oWPEKEHfIqlWmZE-5k_D65yHokavyvlIJWT8nVGmvYQdhgJH3rE6Ww9TqAAvl8enWb/s1600/1511043_10152546575951689_3784984811109814024_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNhBY2GRoos3qSAu2tUpyOCiXRN4xEHB_fqdFg0pURt72pYVxbaQq-yptg-QuNhlhS1D6BVslgW-oWPEKEHfIqlWmZE-5k_D65yHokavyvlIJWT8nVGmvYQdhgJH3rE6Ww9TqAAvl8enWb/s1600/1511043_10152546575951689_3784984811109814024_n.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a> The dog hated Tristan, right from the start. She wouldn't go anywhere near him. But within minutes of coming inside was attached to me. I kept tripping over her. She wouldn't leave my side, we joked that she was my little shadow. Then he started calling her Shadow. Within hours, she was overly attached to me, and had a name.<br />
<br />
I didn't work that weekend. Neither did he. We decided to keep her by Sunday, realizing she was housebroken, trainable, and not going to fare well in a shelter, especially after becoming so attached to me. To be honest, I had already gotten attached to her. We had been talking about getting a dog, and were discussing getting an adult dog from a shelter in the next few months, I was already on the hunt, and she just fell into our lap.<br />
<br />
Monday she came to work with me, we asked the vets to look her over, explaining we still weren't 100% sure we would keep her. (He wasn't, I was.) and they offered a discount on the service because of it. It turned out, I had a 8ish month old, Black Lab mix, who, aside from being covered in ticks two days ago, nails that were just too long, and being scared out of her mind, seemed perfectly healthy.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpM4cJ7jwk2mVXRSaYdxf-4H8hvnvy-X6g-DIwUB7tBvPPmH8wxLeorzixS_KyLVdH_hg9zc2yjOIaBgRyQup8y4Cy8ZY0XWIh6IbDVe79ekhJG9Nc71vaUsu4PrTTdxXyNzUJYOtvHrEW/s1600/1781933_10151891675281689_2098459844_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpM4cJ7jwk2mVXRSaYdxf-4H8hvnvy-X6g-DIwUB7tBvPPmH8wxLeorzixS_KyLVdH_hg9zc2yjOIaBgRyQup8y4Cy8ZY0XWIh6IbDVe79ekhJG9Nc71vaUsu4PrTTdxXyNzUJYOtvHrEW/s1600/1781933_10151891675281689_2098459844_n.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a><br />
Shadow was a big fighting point between Tristan and I, he constantly pushed me to get rid of her, especially as we realized she was more my dog. When he said he wanted a dog, he really wanted a dog that would be like his Aussie at home. One that had bonded completely to him, and listened to him without fail, and he could train, to outshine me.<br />
<br />
But Shadow ran from him. Growled at him. Barked at him constantly, it took him 3-4 weeks of constant treating and babying for him to even pet her. Looking back, that should have been my first sign.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaCQKuauYSQXkYxmLhmPzzDSc4H9CLnbd3tL-H9sTRfjI6LY4RXTGBWD1fVb6lLjLua7Cnz6q7xXQq1RVuFHGNI4DbGTZj3J6m-psMVHjxl6ihZ2yc-IKQ0xhGr1MZyIPFtVzeivXlqrwB/s1600/1977369_10152584877006689_6557962484952558742_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaCQKuauYSQXkYxmLhmPzzDSc4H9CLnbd3tL-H9sTRfjI6LY4RXTGBWD1fVb6lLjLua7Cnz6q7xXQq1RVuFHGNI4DbGTZj3J6m-psMVHjxl6ihZ2yc-IKQ0xhGr1MZyIPFtVzeivXlqrwB/s1600/1977369_10152584877006689_6557962484952558742_n.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a>But my girl stayed with us. When Tristan and I fought, she'd wrap herself around my head, preventing him from cuddling with me. She'd let me cry to her when I needed to, and was taking easily to training. We just couldn't take her anywhere. We brought her to Petsmart, and she just barked. After a few weeks of doing this constantly, she was starting to get better, but only if I was around. She had made friends with the Vets, so when I was at work, if they were going to be open the whole time, she came with me. She'd get to play with other dogs, and with other people, and I got to know she was safe while I was at work. Shadow was already my baby.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVjDF2ckgpY5Q-mCG_TozsTiUmnUghxwgmYw8V0B1eSx2a4ETin3OCbr6RXJZB1-PSiFqXqeqN851N4xLoXfVwvWu-xZFEbG9N6ZffjJk8aHvuMOy7_oz6UPv3WhFBFPyYKwZC_9L41kCj/s1600/10888606_10152481503461689_8573897922811329332_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVjDF2ckgpY5Q-mCG_TozsTiUmnUghxwgmYw8V0B1eSx2a4ETin3OCbr6RXJZB1-PSiFqXqeqN851N4xLoXfVwvWu-xZFEbG9N6ZffjJk8aHvuMOy7_oz6UPv3WhFBFPyYKwZC_9L41kCj/s1600/10888606_10152481503461689_8573897922811329332_n.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a>I had no idea the impact this dog would have on my life. She came home with me, as Tristan couldn't have cared less about her, and adjusted almost immediately, with few incidences (the few we had were more annoying/funny than harmful). Her training has fallen back a little, as she sees other dogs get away with things she never would have in a million years if it were just the two of us, and I haven't had the time to really work with her. She still is socially very anxious, but I'm hoping to really hammer through a lot of that this summer.<br />
<br />
This 4-legged Shadow of mine has been just what I needed more often than not. She hasn't been away from my side for more than a few days in 3 years now. She's saved my life more times than I can count, as she's defended me against dogs, and people. She's my little guard dog, who'd sooner run behind me if someone were to really break in, and my loud obnoxious barky butt. I can't imagine a life without her, and I really hope I never have to for long. She is indeed one of the best things that has ever happened to me. She's got her quirks, but so does her mom, so we make quite the pair in my opinion.Caitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818268884074943548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054410568774475044.post-58064977508676851552015-02-11T11:32:00.002-08:002015-02-11T11:35:11.737-08:00When the Passion burns so bright, eventually, you're gonna get burnedI've heard this so much in the last few months, from all friends - in school and post graduating:<br />
<br />
"I'm losing my love, and motivation to dance, and I don't know how to fix it."<br />
<br />
So I wanted to make this post (while I procrastinate things I could be getting ahead on), about my journey through burnout.<br />
<br />
Staring in about August, I was dealing with a lack of satisfaction in my dancing skills, running low on energy, and money - due to some medical conditions - my car was slowly dying, and I didn't have the time or money to take it to be looked at, much less fixed. I was losing my love of the dance, although I loved to see friends, and I thought I was just not progressing fast enough for my own tastes, and needed to go to more and do more and take more lessons. Turns out, that's what killed me.<br />
<br />
By October, I HATED dancing. The drives, the cost, the drama. The dances were mediocre anymore, and while the friends were great, even the music wasn't inspiring, I was doing the same moves, just to zombie through dances. I felt bad that my friends weren't having the same dance experience with me, because I was frustrated with myself, which just drove me to want to continue to improve, by doing more. "Just work through it" was the attitude and that just didn't work.<br />
<br />
I decided I needed some time off. I went to one last event, and had such a bad time, I was willing to bet I'd never dance again. For November, December, and January, I didn't dance, I didn't listen to the music, I didn't watch dance videos.<br />
<br />
At first I was so mad. I wanted to blame the way dancers held workshops and things. The costs of them, the fact that they were built around sleep deprivation. The fact that they were not conducive to helping someone with burn out, but instead, exaggerated it. I wanted to blame everyone and everything I could, so I didn't have to admit, that it wasn't a lifestyle I could handle at that moment, and I needed to help me help myself.<br />
<br />
So I focused on other things. I worked, I painted again, I drew, I worked on other craft projects that had been waiting on me to find time to finish them. I played more games, and just rebuilt myself in an absence of dancing. I missed my dance friends terribly, but knew pushing it would just make matters so much worse for me in the end.<br />
<br />
By mid January I was feeling like I missed everyone too much, and actually mildly wanted to dance. I didn't have the opportunity, so I never took it and was started to get frustrated again. Finally, early February, I had an opportunity to dance for one night, and I took it. I went out, more nervous than I had been in ages. I walked in the door and a friend greeted me and started my dancing off fairly well. I didn't feel super confident in my skills, knowing I'd be rusty for while.<br />
<br />
I was turned down for dances for "rest songs" and "this song is just to fast for me" and then I'd turn around and they had either accepted another's dance offer and I saw them on the dance floor that song with another follow. I was suddenly super frustrated, and having a panic attack about getting back into dancing. I spent the next 3 songs freaking out to friends about how much I shouldn't be there, and I was now an outcast of the swing community. Eventually, a dancer I very much look up to asked me to dance, and spent the entire song talking to me about where I was, and just getting to know me. My next few Lindy Hop dances went pretty well, and I was feeling better. Blues came around, and while I didn't dance a lot, I did dance, and it was they were the easiest dances I'd ever had (not because of their style, but because I felt so comfortable), and I finally felt at peace with where I had chosen to be.<br />
<br />
I now listen to Blues music and feel myself moving in my seat again, something that hasn't happened in probably 6 months. I tap my feet to swing music. I watch videos and wanna do what they're doing again, I've stopped seeing it as tedium and see it, instead, as something I still love to do.<br />
<br />
Dance burn out happens. To everyone. Sometimes for no reason. Find another hobby to focus on. Invite dance friends over, not to dance, but to play games and have fun in other ways. Take the time to learn something new. When you're ready, you'll know and you can go out, not for an event, but for a night, and see if its something you're ready for.<br />
<br />
Dancers, especially dancers who travel, have such a passion for dancing. It's beautiful to watch, but when the passion for an activity burns that bright and burns so high, it doesn't matter how much you wanna fight it, you're going to wind up burned, and if you don't treat it immediately, you'll burn completely out and have to start over. It's possible to do, but you have to go through and do it.<br />
<br />
Don't worry when it happens. That's I think the big thing. It's worrisome to watch something slip out of your life, and not know if it's ever going to find its way back in. And maybe you'll never be ready to come back, and it was a great hobby for a while, but you found something that peaks your interests more. Interests and lives change. Don't fight adapting to it, even temporarily. You'll kill yourself trying, and that's so much worse than admitting that you're burned out and need time off.Caitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818268884074943548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054410568774475044.post-65225538851100545952014-03-11T00:51:00.000-07:002014-03-11T00:51:13.166-07:00It's not the destination, but the journey, that mattersI'm often told that the destination is not the important part of life, and so I should enjoy the journey and make it my own. This journey has been such a roller coaster, covered in fog. I've gone through a lot of ups and downs with unexpected twists and turns. The spring of 2014 brings a big moment in my life. To most people, it would be nothing, hardly a blip on their radar, but for me it's a big deal. Because of this, I have done quite a bit of reflecting on the subject over the last few days.<br />
<br />
A year ago this week I was moved back home, from South Carolina, after my engagement fell apart.<br />
<br />
Let me start from what I would consider the beginning of this journey:<br />
<br />
Roughly three years ago, I was biting my nails, worrying that I wouldn't get into what I thought was my dream school. Itching just to get that letter of acceptance. Checking my email and the mail every day for a sign that OSU had said "yes, you can continue the family tradition" and let me be the buckeye I desperately wanted to be. When it finally came, the sigh of relief brought me to tears. I didn't think I had what it took, but as it turned out, OSU was willing to take a gamble on me.<br />
<br />
I flip flopped between absolute terror and pure joy all summer. I was desperately scared that I had made the wrong decision, that it hadn't been truly my decision to go to Ohio State. Rather, it was a decision made for me at birth, and I simply ran with it.<br />
<br />
Then I got to campus.<br />
<br />
What a dream I was living.<br />
<br />
I was making friends with my roommates, albeit by changing who I was to fit all 9 of their personalities. I partied hard once, and decided that 20 something beers, and a blacked out, stumbling, drunk walk home in 4 inch heels from the frat house on greek lane to my tower on the opposite side of campus was an experience a person should only have once in their lifetime.<br />
<br />
A few weeks later I got to see a friend of mine who I had been crushing on for ages. And by "crushing on for ages" I'm talking something along the lines of 14 years of head over heels loving this man. About a week after that we said, "fuck it" and decided to give a real relationship a try. There was a catch though, he was 10 hours away, and I was without a car. We seemed to make it work.<br />
<br />
I was doing the typical college student thing, staying up far too late, deciding not to go to class, and putting off any and all homework until the last possible second. I was drumming it up in The Ohio State University Athletic Band, learning the same cadences as The Best Damn Band in the Land (TBDBITL - pronounced tuh-biddle by most of us) and playing them at Basketball, Volleyball and Hockey games.<br />
<br />
Then grades came back.<br />
<br />
Uhoh.<br />
<br />
Time to reevaluate how things were going to go. Second quarter was more of the same, and by the time I reached my third quarter at Ohio State, I was dropping my course load to the bare minimum for my financial aid, and was still struggling through everything. So I left.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, in the middle of my failing my classes, my relationship was failing too. I had been asked to marry him in November, going as far as to have my finger sized so that he could design my ring - we used the Claddagh he bought me as a substitute in the meantime. But things were going sour. We couldn't stop fighting until we saw each other, but 10 hour drives are tough, and we'd think things were fixed, before returning to our respective homes and the fights would begin once again.<br />
<br />
So I moved to South Carolina to be with him.<br />
<br />
I moved in exactly a week before his birthday, and on his birthday, proposed to him. Using 10 Blue Ring Pops - having no better substitute for an actual ring. Even still, those first few months were rough. We really got at each other, but eventually it just got better. I got my job at petsmart and things were looking up.<br />
<br />
Until we were transferred.<br />
<br />
Until he bought that house.<br />
<br />
I still blame that damn house for a lot of our problems. His company decided we were needed elsewhere, and through many stressful miscommunications, we wound up in a house at the border of South Carolina and Georgia.<br />
<br />
The fighting restarted, and got worse.<br />
<br />
And worse.<br />
<br />
And worse.<br />
<br />
Then I came home from work one day and he was sitting on the couch, as I walked in the door, he turned to look at me with the most hurt look I had seen. Three to four hours of screaming later, we decided to end it, and to finish unpacking our stuff so I could repack my stuff and throw it back on a moving truck.<br />
<br />
My first few months home were a nightmare. Plagued by mental disorders I didn't understand, seeing more therapists and doctors that I cared to ever see in a lifetime, battling the desperation to be back where I was in South Carolina. I didn't think I would last the summer. I wanted to stop breathing, because every breath was painful. To stop my heart from beating because every time it did, another broken piece fell off.<br />
<br />
I even thought I'd never dance again. He was the one who taught me, and I was afraid I'd never get over that fact. I was afraid he would haunt my every dance, and dance relationship. But determined not to let him ruin something else I loved, I went to a dance in Cleveland.<br />
<br />
Shaky, nervous, almost entirely without friends in that area, and not having danced in a year, I was in no shape to be showing off anything special, but I still had fun. And my love for dancing was renewed. (I'll probably make another post at some point about how much I love the swing community)<br />
<br />
Life was still unkind, and I continued to have many many months of hard times. Emotionally, physically, academically, and professionally.<br />
<br />
But since then, I have found an incredible passion in my Blues dancing, and drastically improved my Lindy Hop. I even get to spread that passion with others now! I've learned how to control the majority of one of my mental disorders, while learning how to cope with the other one. I gotten over my desperation, and found a job that I enjoy. I'm succeeding in classes, and even finding the ones that failed me last time around easier to bear, to the point of liking them in some cases! I've not changed my major, but have changed my career path, and am much happier with the decision.<br />
<br />
For once, I don't feel like a foreigner in my own skin. My confidence level in myself and my abilities has sky rocketed, and I actually feel happy in general.<br />
<br />
My roller coaster is obviously far from over, but this spring marks an awesome time in my life. I have gone through a few kinds of hell in the past 3 years, but I haven't let it stop me. I've picked myself up, dusted myself off, and carried on.<br />
<br />
Everyone who has ever used that cliche on me was absolutely right, it's never the destination that you should be paying attention to, but the journey to that destination that really matters. If you think life sucks now, that you've hit bottom, and things just continuously look dark. Please, please remember that it is always, ALWAYS darkest, just before the dawn.<br />
<br />
<br />Caitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818268884074943548noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054410568774475044.post-30286153500383855992013-12-03T13:41:00.002-08:002013-12-03T13:41:32.587-08:00For those who have asked: The life of this Paranoid Schizophrenic"I don't feel safe here anymore" says the 10 year old to her mother one evening.<br />
<br />
Living with paranoid schizophrenia, for me, means living in your own nightmare. All of those movies, all of those books, all of those ghosts on TV are suddenly not on TV anymore, not on the pages of the books, and no longer on the silver screen. They're in your living room, they're in your bedroom, you see them reaching for you, grabbing at you. You hear them calling for you, out to you.<br />
<br />
You hear the constant naggings.<br />
<br />
Most people have that little voice in the back of their head. The one that tells them not to worry, or in some cases causes them to worry needlessly. The one that tells them about the negative consequences of the actions they're about to take. The harmless voices that most would consider a "gut instinct."<br />
<br />
Mine come with faces.<br />
Mine come with anger.<br />
And fear.<br />
And hate.<br />
<br />
My voices appear as the skin and bones version of myself in the mirror, telling me exactly how beautiful I'm not. They appear as the ex-lovers of my life, reminding me of everything I did wrong to lose something so amazing and how I will never have that again, how I will never be happy again. As witches, and ghouls in the back seat of my car, screaming at me to listen as they tell me how wretched I am as an individual. Worst of all, they appear as scary, shapeless men in the corner, brandishing creepy smiles, and a wicked silence.<br />
<br />
My voices attack me.<br />
Their faces laugh at me.<br />
Their bodies come after me.<br />
<br />
I have to be careful. If I'm not, I black out. I've woken up with strange bruises, cuts I've never seen and a fogginess for what happened in the last few moments. The man in the corner, smiles greedily, patiently waiting for me to break, for me to agree with any one of the previous voices, for me to tell myself what an atrocious failure I have become. If he comes closer than the corner, I know I'm in trouble. If he moves even one step towards me, I need to brace myself. If I yell, his smile goes away, and he leaves, he exits my sight like a puff of smoke. But I know this will only cause a harder blow next time. That he will only take his revenge out on me later, in the only way he knows how. And next time, I won't be able to make him go.<br />
<br />
Life hasn't always been like this. I didn't always see my voices. But I could always hear them, always feel them. They have always been a presence in my life. A voice calling out my name. A comforting whisper from a loved one in my ear as I fall asleep. A glimpse, out of the corner of my eye of a face, long forgotten, feared or loved.<br />
<br />
I haven't gotten rid of any faceless voices, many of them found their form.<br />
<br />
It's not always bad. Life isn't always about avoiding the man in the corner. Screaming at hurtful, cackling ghouls isn't an everyday occurrence. Sometimes, they're friends, long since forgotten, guiding me through difficult decisions. Old lovers, not seen or heard from in ages, talking me through to a calming realization about my life.<br />
<br />
Life as a paranoid schizophrenic isn't a life to be pitied. But a life of strength and courage. To stand up to a man you can't fight with your fists, or with another hurtful claim. To scream back at those who would tear you down. Standing up for your life against those who know it best. Those who have not just heard your thoughts but have seen them, heard them, been those thoughts. To realize, and be okay with the fact that not only do you have complete control over your own life, but simultaneously, you have no control over the life you lead.<br />
<br />
This schizophrenic, will live her uncontrollably, controlled life in every way she sees fit. If only because the voices say that she can't. If only because the voices push her until they say that she can.<br />
<br />Caitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818268884074943548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054410568774475044.post-16027830626935643962013-10-03T18:44:00.004-07:002013-10-03T18:56:58.996-07:00Jelani the Mighty (and a bit odd)When I was a kid, we had this ferret named Blizzard - Blizz for short. She was this absolutely adorable, mischievous, albino ferret who proceeded to curl up in my dad's fleece coat when he picked her up, and she was ours. Several years later, she escaped from the family room while her cage was being cleaned, and well, a dog got her. Needless to say, she didn't make it. But the love for ferrets never left me.<br />
<br />
So as a Junior in High School, what did I want for my birthday? A ferret. What did I get? Well, he looked like a ferret, smelled like a ferret - at first - but he certainly rarely ACTED like a ferret.<br />
<br />
I was looking for a specific color ferret - that really nice Dark Chocolate Masked variety. Preferably female. And with lots of spunk. But I went to the store, and found this little teeny ferret and was in love. I dragged mom out to the store and said "this is the one." A cinnamon sable, male, runt of a ferret, who would go on to change my world.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc1/261699_10151411011601689_932989678_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc1/261699_10151411011601689_932989678_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neither one of them truly enjoys baths...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Here's how life with this little guy went:<br />
<br />
Ferrets love baths.<br />
He hated water. I don't think I've been glared at more, than when I said it was bath time and tossed him into a tub.<br />
<br />
Ferrets love running around and doing their "war dance"<br />
He slithered just about everywhere, like his legs were broken. Similar to a snake, but covered in fur...<br />
<br />
Ferrets dook constantly when they're excited.<br />
He never really made a peep in his life.<br />
<br />
And the list just goes on. He took just about every stereotypical ferret behavior you could come up with and threw it out the window. He acted as tough as he could though, and - after much research into where ferrets probably originated - I named him Jelani which is Swahili for "mighty."<br />
<br />
Jelani was my baby boy - my baby Je. But now my baby is gone.<br />
<br />
He was never a healthy ferret. Even when he was little. Some nights he would just start vomiting. And if you're unfamiliar with the way ferrets vomit, it's a scary thing to witness, as they truly define the phrase "projectile vomiting." His weight constantly fluctuated for no apparent reason.<br />
<br />
But he was never the same after he and I took the long trek to South Carolina.<br />
<br />
When I moved to Columbia, I thought I was going to lose him, he lost a lot of weight, his fur started to thin, and he started getting lethargic. He was thought to have a tumor, but eventually, the idea was dismissed, and we continued life as normally as we could.<br />
<br />
But he played with Eeva, although, admittedly, a bit roughly. He loved to tumble around with her, and chase her all over. After separating a tumbling pile of squealing fur, Tristan of course always defended the Christmas Kitten, and I always took the side of my mighty warrior. They were the topic of many arguments. And as he seemed to have a good bit of energy, we continued on, with the continued idea that it would be awhile before I had to say goodbye.<br />
<br />
And once again he saw life throw me a curve ball, and he took another 10 hour drive with us back to North Eastern Ohio.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/941785_10151415722966689_1688850483_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/941785_10151415722966689_1688850483_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jelani (bottom) and Majivu (top) Chillin' together</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
He began seriously losing weight, and sleeping more often. So, when a ferret at work stole my heart, I brought home Majivu, with the intent to give Je a companion, as well as make him more active. It was working, for quite some time.<br />
<br />
After a couple of months things quickly took a turn for the worst. He lost a lot of weight, extraordinarily quickly. He wouldn't and almost couldn't play for that long, and it was obvious something was wrong. I watched as slowly his weight loss turned from "Senior animals just tend to be bonier as they age" to "his eyes have begun to sink in, and I haven't seen him eat more than a couple of bites in a couple of days..."<br />
<br />
BACK TO THE VET WE WENT<br />
<br />
Kidney failure was the diagnosis. The prognosis? "...just make him comfortable"<br />
<br />
So that I did. I bought - or more like had Dad buy - bottles of Pedialyte, and warmed up baby food chicken, which I fed to him through a syringe. I put wet ferret food slurry in the cage about once a week, and things looked up a tiny bit for him.<br />
<br />
But not enough to change anything.<br />
<br />
A few weeks later, I came home from a dance, to find a stressed Majivu pacing the front ramp of his cage, and every once in a while, frantically trying to warm up his best friend. I've never seen a ferret more worried in my life. I watched Je's body for the sudden heave of his abdomen - ferrets will commonly look like they are not breathing when they are asleep, and then will suddenly have a deep intake of breathe before breathing normally for a few minutes, it's almost like they forget how to breathe temporarily - but it never came. I shifted the hammock he had himself curled up in, and the whole body shifted awkwardly, the ears never twitched, his head never popped up dazed and confused, and I realized suddenly that I had lost my beautiful baby Je. We proceeded to move, placing him in a box, digging a whole in our backyard near where my beautiful Batik rests, and buried my handsome warrior.<br />
<br />
But that's not how I will remember him. I won't remember his lifeless body, curled into a ball against the wall of a hammock at midnight. I will not remember him as a box in a hole in the ground in the ivy of our backyard. No. Surely, that will not be the case.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc1/314804_10151220981561689_856777318_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://scontent-a-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc1/314804_10151220981561689_856777318_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adventure time outside</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I will remember my Mighty Warrior scuffling around the living room of my old 2 bedroom apartment. Slithering his way through the grass of our big backyard. Bouncing around Azael, confused, because the spiky ball didn't want to play with him too. Stuck in his big blue ball, unable to properly move around in it, and walk anywhere, so he just sat there, looking at you pleadingly to let him out. I'll remember how the vet swung him like the pendulum on a big grandfather clock, to calm him down so they could check him out. The way he used to hop around silently, afraid of the paper towels being shaken in his face, proceeding to attack every roll of paper towels he came into contact with. I will look back and remember the dozens of squeaky mice I've had to buy from the cat toy sections of pet stores because they were his favorite, and he always tore them open, ripped out the squeaker and bit down hard enough to prevent it from squeaking - of course proceeding to get bored of the mouse, and walking, or slithering around continuously sighing in boredom, until I was guilt tripped into buying yet another mouse.<br />
<br />
I will remember the night before he died, when he actually chose to cuddle me, before choosing to play with Majivu. Sleeping in my lap, and on my shoulder, while I cleaned his cage, and played tug with Maji.<br />
<br />
I will forever remember the joy this little boy brought to my life. And know that he was there for me, during all of the high school heartbreaks, deaths of other family members and pets, through my successful graduation from high school, and my failures as an academically inclined college freshmen, though the pains of moving away from home and starting a life far from anything you've ever known. He supported me, whole heartedly, through fights with a fiancee, the stress of moving once again, the heartbreak of being dumped, and the feeling of defeat as I packed up a truck to move back home.<br />
<br />
I'm just glad he was able to see me happy again. That he left us, knowing that he took fantastic care of me. There are many times where I believe he did more taking care of me, than I did of him. I gave him what he needed, sure, but he gave me so much more. And for that I am so grateful, and so glad he was a part of my life.<br />
<br />
I will forever miss the little stinker, but he was my baby, and I'm simply glad my baby feels better.<br />
<br />
Glad he can finally be at peace.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/20469_269188696688_6400732_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://scontent-b-ord.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/20469_269188696688_6400732_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My baby, the day we brought him home. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Caitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818268884074943548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054410568774475044.post-3165854282937635182013-06-27T13:47:00.001-07:002013-06-27T13:47:30.409-07:00The product of being hassled...So, I am apparently rubbish at updating everyone on my life properly, and am being told to update my blog with another "life update" post.<br />
<br />
I still work for Petco. Its... well... stressful is an extreme understatement. There's currently a lot of drama and I'm not really sure it's worth it some days. We've got a lot of people going after others, some people trying to get others fired, a lot of hated, and a level of dramatics that rivals... some... drama production... probably Shakespeare...<br />
<br />
Bright light at the end of the professional tunnel? It will hopefully work itself out in a month, tops. I'm also FINALLY in the program to be a trainer. I'm a trainer trainee (which makes me laugh more than it should). I spend 2-3 nights a week up in Strongsville where I watch classes and discuss technique with a mentor trainer. Hopefully I'll be able to take over classes before the other trainer leaves, and we don't have such a huge gap between us without any classes...<br />
<br />
What else, what else?<br />
<br />
OH! (IO) I'm going back to school this fall. It's about 6 months earlier than I expected to be thinking/stressing about school, but I spoke to my adviser and because of how small ATI is, it would be better for me to start this fall and take two full years at ATI before going back to main campus Ohio State. Soooo here comes Chemistry (again) in August. I'm very nervous, very excited, and partially relieved. Not really sure how to feel about school again, as the last time I tried this, it went HORRIBLY, but I'm relieved that I am finally taking steps forward with this whole career thing. So I don't have to sit here and wonder if I won't be stuck in retail my entire life. (Let me clarify that statement by saying that I actually have an incredible respect for people who make careers out of retail positions, and even more for those who enjoy it, I just happen to really NOT LIKE retail... AT ALL. It's just not something I see myself doing 10-15 years down the line.)<br />
<br />
The animals are doing much better!<br />
<br />
Azzy is quilling currently... so... he doesn't come out much, even at night he's not as active... Imagine teething... big spiky things... all over your body... I can't really say as I blame the little guy for being extra grumpy for the next few weeks. Otherwise, he is as adorable as can be. Even comes out of hiding to play. Generally, he has to be coaxed out with food first, but it's progress!<br />
<br />
Sarafina meows all over the place and has so far managed to escape the dogs' love of chasing cats around the house. She's adjusted to stairs and jumps and mantles quite well!<br />
<br />
Jelani has a new playmate: Majivu. The two of them were NOT good friends for the longest time, going as far as big fights that I had to leap out of bed to break up in the middle of the night. I had to bathe them to clean up blood a couple of times, but now, they can't STOP cuddling with each other. And are generally adorable and hilarious. Majivu has done exactly what I had hoped he would do and that is help keep Je active.<br />
<br />
Shadow has no idea how to react to the ferrets. She just doesn't get them. At all. They start playing and she is right at that cage, tail wagging, whining away that she can't join in on the fun, or understand what is going on.<br />
<br />
She's probably the most surprising of the adjusted animals. We were all afraid she would just constantly cower in corners and bark constantly, and shake 24/7 and just generally not adjust well. Turns out, she's actually a rather dominant dog. She's constantly getting into it with Dawson over the head hauncho spot in the dog line up. Tiberius has taken is spot on the bottom and Shadow's thought is that she's definitely alpha, until Dawson wants to claim his alpha spot and then she is a very close beta.<br />
<br />
Tiberius and Shadow are the best of friends. Seriously, they are NEVER far apart unless we have separated them. I think Shadow may have an unnatural attachment to Tiberius, as she whines and paces when he is not around... Every morning, she has NO interest in getting up, until he is. Once Tiberius is up and about, all she wants to do is pounce on me to wake me up, hurry to her food bowl, go outside, and then rush back in to play with him. Dawson, of course, being the crotchety old man that he is, does not approve of the juvenile act of play between puppies. If they get into playing with each other while he is around, he leaps up (as fast and leap like as a 10 year old 120 lb dog physically can) and barks at them until the cower away.<br />
<br />
What else is going on in my life?<br />
<br />
Not a whole lot...<br />
<br />
Well...<br />
<br />
I'm dancing.<br />
<br />
I don't dance as often as I would like, mostly, because I would like to dance every moment of every day. But I'm at least trying to get out there and dance some more. I went to a workshop Cleveland (Burning River Blues) a while ago, and am already registered to go to Exchanges in Cincinnati (CincyLX) and another one in Cleveland (ClevelandLX) with plans for two more (Time Warp Swing in Columbus, and PittStop in Pittsburgh, PA). And am hoping to get some random Saturday night dances in between exchanges.<br />
<br />
I'm still painting...<br />
<br />
Everything is on my store, minus a couple of things I'm still waiting to finish, but yeah, that's still a thing. More of a hobby thing than anything else. It's not really selling, or working as a hobby that funds itself, but it's certainly a fun hobby to have.<br />
<br />
Anyways... I think that's everything... I don't really have a lot going on, which is why I don't really update people or my blog as much as some people would apparently like me to.<br />
Life's a little boring, but maybe that's for the best right now.Caitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818268884074943548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054410568774475044.post-50916432841168142422013-03-19T18:01:00.000-07:002013-03-19T18:01:26.126-07:00Sometimes, life tests your lemonade making abilities.Life very rarely goes the way you want it to. Which, for a person like me is excruciatingly frustrating. I'm the kind of person who LOVES to plan. LOVE LOVE LOVES to plan. I have a plan for exactly how things will go, when changes will be made, and exactly what those changes will be.<br />
<br />
Which, upon internal reflection, is a truly silly, and not at all useful trait to have.<br />
<br />
For those of you who are unaware, I have moved myself back to Ohio.<br />
<br />
After a brief spat, and a long talk, it was decided that it was best that I come home to Ohio and figure out my professional life before things got too serious in Augusta. So, here I am. I currently live with my parents, in my old room. I came back with a dog, a hedgehog, a cat and a ferret.<br />
<br />
Life is a little crazy here, mostly because of the new dog, and because I'm not used to all the commotion at all hours of the day (and sometimes night), but we're all adjusting.<br />
<br />
I interviewed today (promisingly) for a position as a full time sales associate, reptile and aquatics specialist and dog trainer with Petco! I'm very excited for that opportunity.<br />
<br />
As far as the rest of my plan goes, I hope to be going back to school on a VERY part-time basis in the Winter. Take a few classes that are a good mix of fun, and relevant, do that for a year and a halfish, earn up some moneyz, and then transfer down to main campus. The plan is now, to study animal science, and "grow up" to be a Zoo Keeper.<br />
<br />
That's the plan, thus far, who knows what will happen in two months, 6 months, 1 year, 2 years, 5 years... I certainly didn't expect the events of the last two years to happen, every 3 months or so I got a new surprise!<br />
<br />
But life exists, sometimes, to do nothing except send you buckets and buckets and buckets of lemons to see just what you'll do with them.<br />
<br />
Little does life know, my lemonade will sell faster if it also sends me Oranges, Ugli fruit, basil and ginger...Caitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818268884074943548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054410568774475044.post-38539264614710240172012-11-09T09:55:00.004-08:002012-11-09T10:00:21.124-08:00The Christmas KittenTime for Eeva's grand introduction!<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/486373_10151103460946689_632110306_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/486373_10151103460946689_632110306_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day we brought her home!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Eeva is about a year old now, but she'll forever be our kitten.<br />
<br />
Late last year, Tristan decided that as his roommate at the time was supposed to be moving out soon, and he was going to be alone, he needed some companionship around his place. We decided adopting a kitten was the best idea - and Imgur (a site we both visit regularly) is full of kittens doing very cute things.<br />
<br />
After days of patrolling Petfinder.com (Great site, by the way!), and falling in love with a couple of kittens that weren't available, we found a site called Heartofthemidlands.org (Also, a great - if heartbreaking - site!). There are both cats and dogs, and when they appear on the site they appear with a date, and a few days after that date, that animal is euthanized. The whole site is a list of kittens, cats, puppies and dogs who are all on death row!<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/401286_10150531874516068_1555980478_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/401286_10150531874516068_1555980478_n.jpg" width="176" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Such an ornery Christmas kitten!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So I found Eeva on the site, and it took a little bit of coaxing, but eventually, Tristan fell in love with her, based solely on her picture. So, we decided to get her. We went through the application process, got her supplies and made friends with a fantastically English volunteer with an organization involved in saving the pets on that site, then, finally, she was ours to pick up and take home! We waited for her to be spayed, and for me to be there before picking her up. I came down on my christmas vacation, and Eeva quickly became the christmas kitten!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
She used to be attached to us both, until I had to return to school for extended periods of time, and could no longer visit regularly. What used to be a kitten who would mew at the computer during skype conversations or paw at phones on speaker phone because she could hear my voice, quickly became a kitten who now hates me.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/644722_10151087950581689_678958906_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/644722_10151087950581689_678958906_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She gets into everything!<br />
Her favorite spot is laundry though!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Eeva is so attached to Tristan at this point that she goes crazy when he's not around. If he is gone for more than a single work day, she starts getting a little aggressive in her play with myself, and the other animals. She has separation anxiety to the extreme.<br />
<br />
Now that we have Shadow, she's consistently growling, remember the pig story? It hasn't gotten that bad... yet... and she doesn't get all fuzzed anymore unless Shadow attempts to play with her, but now she's costantly growling and doesn't really want to cuddle with anyone - even Tristan (who is okay with that situation, as the first few hours of Shadow being her, he got fairly scratched up).<br />
<br />
Fortunately for Eeva, she's a cutie, so we'll keep working on her, see if she'll become that sweet little kitten again!Caitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818268884074943548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054410568774475044.post-1399862951485730502012-11-07T19:59:00.000-08:002012-11-07T19:59:00.392-08:00Went out for a house, came home with a catSo! I've decided that I post all of these stories about our animals, and even gave you an introduction on the hedgehog, so you guys should probably meet some of the other animals! They're in no particular order what so ever.<br />
<br />
Meet Sarafina!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/558271_10150934498136689_1150667597_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/558271_10150934498136689_1150667597_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the only good pictures I have of her!</td></tr>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Sarafina has a sad story that ends incredibly happily. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
At one point Tristan was looking at buying a house where we are now. We were primarily looking into foreclosed homes that we could fix up a bit and turn around and sell in a few years time.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/253041_10151085194651689_1066449313_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc6/253041_10151085194651689_1066449313_n.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our little back door guardian. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In our hunt for a good home, we walked up to a home and a cat ran up to us, she meowed and rubbed up on our legs, twirling herself between all of our legs. I didn't notice anything except the fact that she was incredibly malnourished and seemed sweet, until Tristan and the Realtor pointed it out to me - the cat only had three legs to walk on.<br />
<br />
As we walked around the house, realizing we probably weren't interested in buying it, we noticed the cat never left the door, and when we went near it, she'd paw at the door lightly and meow. It was quickly decided that the previous owner had either died or moved out and left the cat behind to fend for itself. After watching a few toms in the neighborhood swat at her for trying to get at the plate of food the neighbor left out for them, I tried to pick her up. Once that was a success, we couldn't leave her there - well, I couldn't, and Tristan's a sucker when I start to become a bleeding heart for the homeless pets... - we worked out a way to get a carrier from the Realtor and some canned food from her personal store, and tried to catch her.<br />
<br />
Finally in the crate she was completely freaked out and dying of thirst, we took her to Petsmart and bought flea medications, and some essentials from around the house. It was obvious that as long as the vet didn't hear back from the number listed under the microchip, she was a keeper.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/533066_10151003710316689_2066733367_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/533066_10151003710316689_2066733367_n.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She likes to chirrup as she gets into this position, <br />she knows we're suckers for it. </td></tr>
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The two cats didn't quite get along at first, which was mostly Sarafina's fault. As a cat coming in off the street, I didn't really blame her for hissing and running away every time this little kitten came towards her, all she'd seem to have known from other cats is getting beat on - something that hasn't really changed around the apartment.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, she fell in love with me, and was very wary of Tristan, that meant, when I left a couple of days later, she spent most of her time locked away in a cabinet. She rarely came out, and when she did it was to eat, drink, poo and then go right back in. Some days, Tristan truly worried she would die in a cabinet and he would never really know. We figured that she was just afraid of men.<br />
<br />
Now, she's a big sweety. The instant I moved in she got better about coming out, and now she very rarely hides - if at all - and is a big purr machine - when I touch her. She LOVES to cuddle and snuggle and be close to people, and is actually very well adjusted for being a three legged cat. In a race, she might actually beat Eeva!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/561823_10151097026616689_763423264_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/561823_10151097026616689_763423264_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes, if you're careful, you can even capture their cuddles on camera!</td></tr>
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The two cats still don't get along, but the blame falls mostly to Eeva at this point. When you do catch them being nice to each other, it's just about the cutest thing on the planet.Caitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818268884074943548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054410568774475044.post-73466298857329603782012-09-21T21:40:00.003-07:002012-11-07T13:35:35.668-08:00Pigs may not fly, but fur sure doesIn my want for a dog, I came across this ADORABLE dog toy at work. It's this stuffed pink pig, with black seaming and little white daisies all over it. ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE. So, when I got a superb discount for being and awesome associate, I bought one. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkpTwMUXOsMX_7ruTgC-W-ucQg_9wQO8CB2zbjigjANGm-g1oKqfeQa9YMQMob9yGLniHgPCadi4QjWckRYRwQmKv0HNRc_vaHJaGziadsKWd1pqyEfJyakPVO9y5ml6zc-9JGPIgENq3n/s1600/2012-11-07+16.27.04.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkpTwMUXOsMX_7ruTgC-W-ucQg_9wQO8CB2zbjigjANGm-g1oKqfeQa9YMQMob9yGLniHgPCadi4QjWckRYRwQmKv0HNRc_vaHJaGziadsKWd1pqyEfJyakPVO9y5ml6zc-9JGPIgENq3n/s320/2012-11-07+16.27.04.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Isn't this pig adorable?</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
Now, I know what you're saying, "you don't have a dog, why would you buy one?!" Because it was cute, and I might not have the chance when I GET a dog, that's why! Plus, for the price I got it at, it was a steal, and I figured I'd get some cute memories of cats sleeping on it, or the ferret climbing on it. NEVER in my WILDEST DREAMS would I have imagined the damage this cute little piggy would cause, or take on. <br />
<br />
Let me truly preface this story by saying that we had a neighbor's dog in the apartment for a VERY short amount of time, and in an attempt to NOT scare the cat, Tristan's skin paid the price. (This is a second hand story mind you, I only got to see the aftermath)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRFMrESvpywpMjsPxD_hc5hlllK4IA-ASwgtoJ34imJxTtpYkfIbePqSi6Y3neEwLdZbqE4NeOXMaDrKMedYp-4GCEmtJz3LgStJQ-pHCnPHwBMnJEY6hyphenhyphendN55IpodUvTOJ0-FQj4fVj_x/s1600/2012-11-07+16.27.14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRFMrESvpywpMjsPxD_hc5hlllK4IA-ASwgtoJ34imJxTtpYkfIbePqSi6Y3neEwLdZbqE4NeOXMaDrKMedYp-4GCEmtJz3LgStJQ-pHCnPHwBMnJEY6hyphenhyphendN55IpodUvTOJ0-FQj4fVj_x/s320/2012-11-07+16.27.14.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Okay, maybe the face is a little terrifying...</td></tr>
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He picked her up and Frodo - the young Bully Breed mix (who is GORGEOUS, by the way)- was being quite calm as he entered. Eeva took ONE LOOK at that dog and freaked the heck out. Fuzzing like we were about to stab her, and spitting and hissing like she'd just been thrown in with a whole mix of crazed dogs who were foaming at the mouth! Tristan began bleeding quite a bit from multiple scratches and the cat took a while to calm down, when she reappeared, Tristan was angry enough that she went straight into the cat carrier and was not permitted to come out until mommy came home. <br />
<br />
SO, when we brought the pig him, Eeva looked at it confused and cautiously inched towards it, sounds and movements, and especially touches caused her to jump half a mile in the air. So, being the WONDERFUL parents we are, we decided to chase her around with it - simply because she wouldn't get over her fear. (Aren't we awesome at this whole animal parenting thing??)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRhHVD-4M9TXSsTCffdWPTz_-QvTlFEv81OQScboxX9S7ODp1jhvFFMJlaEN5kpO6aHbnNftfM3THpZ2GSp8J86wyt4ARmdS3xjYgbl-bjYPWssF92-LhYIw69pnOAh98RnWDvw0Ozf0Wy/s1600/2012-09-22+22.38.02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRhHVD-4M9TXSsTCffdWPTz_-QvTlFEv81OQScboxX9S7ODp1jhvFFMJlaEN5kpO6aHbnNftfM3THpZ2GSp8J86wyt4ARmdS3xjYgbl-bjYPWssF92-LhYIw69pnOAh98RnWDvw0Ozf0Wy/s320/2012-09-22+22.38.02.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what cat claws look like when they're completely ripped out...</td></tr>
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Only thing is, she fuzzed and spat and hissed. Until eventually, when we stopped torturing her, she was panting, and growling - even after the pig went out of her site and we stopped being mean to her. That's when we noticed it - she was bleeding, a lot. from multiple paws. After quickly seizing the kitten, we noticed that not only had she TORN several claws, but had actually ripped one completely out. In her anger the cat had practically declawed a couple of toes. <br />
<br />
Needless to say the last hour or so has had us trying - and failing - to bandange the cats front paws (the back ones only had a couple of cracked claws, but very little - if any bleeding) and closely monitoring the poor thing. Who, by the way, was practically passing out in our laps because she was so exhausted from going at the darn pig. <br />
<br />
Moral of tonight's endeavors?<br />
We're now kind of nervous to get a dog. Seeing the damage she can do to other things - the pigs head is partially shredded - and to herself, worries us as to what she'd be like if we tried to bring home a puppy... We already know she doesn't appreciate dogs in her living space... <br />
So...<br />
About that dog..<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Caitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818268884074943548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054410568774475044.post-85723238180969349762012-09-21T21:18:00.001-07:002012-09-21T21:18:09.535-07:00He's not the Hedgehog we need, but the one we deservePeople are constantly astounded by the fact that we own a Hedgehog. Asking what they're like as pets, and how we get past all the spiney-ness, and whether or not he's okay with other pets and such. So, here's all about life as a hedgehog with as much experience as we have - which is to say hat we have extraordinarily little experience. <br />
<br />
So you've seen those cute pictures of those brown and cream colored hedgehogs that are absolutely adorable, the hedgie is probably holding a strawberry, or nibbling at a raspberry, or curling cutely around someone's thumb? Pictures like this perhaps?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS325lVEp1Y1qMGZI1jIWEOHZmcV2zr0wGBMmycrRj4ntRo7FExWg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="198" width="255" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS325lVEp1Y1qMGZI1jIWEOHZmcV2zr0wGBMmycrRj4ntRo7FExWg" /></a></div><b>BE WARNED: NOT ALL HEDGEHOGS ARE THIS CUTE ALL THE TIME!!!!<br />
<br />
At least... <br />
<br />
our's isn't...</b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
In fact, our little baby hedgie, is Albino. So he is a very bright white color, with bright red eyes - which kind of turns people away from really how cute he truly is. He's kind of terrifying when you first see him. <br />
<br />
Which is how he got his name...<br />
<br />
Azael - most commonly referred to as Azazel - is a Fallen Angel, who fell after being tempted by a woman to commit sin, and then imparted many great secrets to man and cohabited with women - or so we found on the great interwebz. <br />
<br />
Okay, so we tried to name our demonic looking hedgie after a demon... We call him Azzy though! Isn't that cute and not at all cruel?<br />
<br />
SO<br />
<br />
We thought to ourselves, "We shall have an adorable baby hedgehog who is kind of creepy looking, but also eats things adorably, so all shall be good in the world!"<br />
<br />
WRONG!! WRONGITY WRONG WRONG WRONGNESS!<br />
<br />
What Azzy does most often is sleep. Especially during the day - hedgehogs are nocturnal creatures - so when WE are up and about and ready to play with an adorable hedgehog, he's resting. When we're sleeping and not wanting to deal with inside out pincushions, he's eating and pooping and running on his wheel.<br />
He does that a lot too - pooping, I mean. We wake him up so we can socialize him, or bring him out to public places to show him off, and all he does is poop, for like half an hour. It's kind of obnoxious, really. And the biggest problem, unlike other rodents who like to keep their poo concentrated in one location, he just kind of goes whenever, wherever and doesn't care if he's walking through it, curling into it, or spreading it about the container or hand he is currently in. We've washed more poop off of him than I care to admit. You're SUPPOSED to be able to litter box train these guys, and believe me, we have the litter box suitable for hedgehogs and have good clay litter - it's the stuff Je uses - and all he wants to do is burrow through it and throw it all around the cage. <br />
Oh, and that myth about animals not pooping where they eat? <br />
WRONG!<br />
He poos right on his food bowl without discretion. Thankfully, with the bowl we bought him, he doesn't poo ON the food, just on the bowl itself. <br />
<br />
And my god, does this little guy eat. We got him at about 6 weeks old, so he's truly still a baby maxing out at about 10-12 weeks now. I should have guessed that a growing hedgie would eat and eat and eat, kind of like a growing human, right? Well, this guy eats almost 1-1 1/2 Tbsp. per day. And you think, "oh, that's not really that much." You have to remember that this is a creature who two weeks ago could fit in the palm of a single hand and today not only require the use of both hands to simply HOLD him, but some creativity in keeping him from crawling up my arm because he didn't truly fit in both hands. <br />
Thankfully, I opted for the larger food dish, thinking that we just may not have to put food in there as often. If I had gone for the next size down, we would need to be putting food in there almost twice daily.<br />
<br />
Have I mentioned the spines yet?<br />
Baby hedgehogs are afraid of EVERYTHING. And what they do in defense - because they just don't bite - is pull their unibrow of quills right down over their eyes, curl up as tightly as is physically possible - pointing quills in every direction in the process - and make a sound called huffing. This sound is nearly impossible to describe, and I don't know how to accurately describe how to immitate the adorable little sound my hedgehog manages to make when he's upset, but it's more cute than terrifying and it's about the only sound he makes. But as he's doing this, you say something like, "Aww, how cute" and go to touch him. Then, he jumps at your touch, and stabs you with dozens of tiny little needle like quills. <br />
(The feeling is analogous to being pricked with thick sewing needles.)<br />
And those little things HURT... A LOT<br />
<br />
And the temperature?<br />
That's just about the most important part of a hedgehog life (aside from keeping them away from heights - they will stupidly walk off of anything, no matter how high, they have no concept of heights) - the temperature. We don't tend to like COLD weather - which is why we are both fond of SC. However, even our apartment - which is supposed to be at an ideal temperature for hedgies - is too cold for little Azzy. So we had to buy the thing a heating pad, and then fleece to insulate it so that it wouldn't burn the cage we had built for him. Regulating his temperature has been more important than we realized. We have been keeping the windows open and at night we see him huddled under his heating pad - yes under, he won't lie on it, has to be under - and during the warmer part of the day, he comes out and runs around - did I say day? I meant warmer nights. ;)<br />
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Anyways, that's basically life with Azzy the hedgehog. As far as I can remember. I'm sure you'll hear of all of our adventures with him. He's come to work to visit my work buddies a few times, and likes to get out. So I'm sure pictures and stories will be soon to follow!<br />
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By the way, here's our little guy.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/s720x720/376595_10151022591581689_1296525849_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="309" width="400" src="https://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-snc7/s720x720/376595_10151022591581689_1296525849_n.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Caitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818268884074943548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054410568774475044.post-84005109843033992862012-09-21T09:10:00.002-07:002012-09-21T12:53:12.027-07:00Gotta Take a BreathOkay, so I wanted to get back into the blogging thing, and honestly, I've been terrible at it. Life has gotten pretty crazy though, so that's why. Here's the latest scoop: <br />
<br />
I GOT A JOB!<br />
I currently work at a PetSmart near the apartment. I'm just a cashier, but it's fun. They initially told me they would train me in everything except grooming and stocking - which by the way, meant I would get certified in dog training - and now based on some other factors - that I'll get into in a minute - I won't be trained in anything else. Which is unfortunate, it means I don't get to play with the birds, hamsters, lizards and fish, but it also means I get to see all the pretty puppies that walk through the door. <br />
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SPEAKING OF THOSE PRETTY PUPPIES...<br />
I want a dog. I don't actually remember life pre-dog, and I think that's part of my problem. I think the other part is I have never really had a dog that I didn't like. Some of them are pains in the tookus - TIBERIUS - but I've never owned a dog that I didn't absolutely adore. So now, I'm seeing dogs and puppies daily, and missing my own dogs and REALLY WANT A DOG OF MY OWN. Tristan and I have FINALLY agreed on the fact that we both would ADORE for our first dog to be a husky baby, but we simply can't afford one right now. <br />
LONG STORY SHORT:<br />
I see huskies every. single. day. Seriously, I never STOP seeing huskies. There are days where more huskies walk through the doors at work than any other kind of dog, and it's driving me insane! Sometimes they come in all at once, and then I don't have to worry about them, but sometimes, I see one almost every hour. Recently, I saw upwards of 15 huskies.... all with single dog owners... If you think there are like 400 dogs running around PetSmart every day you have another thing coming, we don't get that many dogs... so my luck: all the dogs that walk into the store are huskies now, because I want one. It very seriously didn't help that I once saw a dog that made me do a double take. A light red male husky walked through the door, and I saw him, smiled and then looked again with wide eyes. He looked almost exactly like my parents' first husky, Nanook. What worse? When I finally got the nerve to talk to the owner - he came up to my register - the dog's name was, no lie, Nanook. I think the gods are trying to smack me around a bit before I manage to get a dog. <br />
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OH! So... WHY THEY WON'T TRAIN ME IN ANYTHING ANYMORE:<br />
Iiiiiii'm moving! Yes! Again! I just got here to South Carolina about three months ago, and then a few weeks ago IP comes to Tristan and says, "Oh, hey, you're going to get a call from Augusta soon, you're moving there at some point." So we wait a total of three weeks, get the Augusta plant in some SERIOUS trouble for NOT calling, and get a paragraph and a half of information and a two minute phone call. Want out information? "You're coming here in four days to look things over and talk with us, and then we'll give you a tour of Augusta" then, the day he is supposed to be leaving, "Oh, hey, dinner with us tonight!" Did I mention Augusta is an hour away?? LOL That was Monday. I still don't know when we're moving, except that we're moving "in the first quarter of next year" and that Tristan is off in Augusta now getting a tour and talking to some higher ups. Hopefully, I'll get more information later today. Can you tell it's so frustrating to me? I don't handle stress, or moves, very well. So, soon, I'll NOT be packing up my things - the company will pay for it as long as we let the moving guys come in and pack everything up - and moving my little butt to GA. <br />
<br />
SPEAKING OF LITTLE:<br />
I'm going to try to not only be better about my blogging, but also about my working out. I look down and go, "Oh god, where did THAT come from." Now, they're not just food babies... I was actually asked how far along I was while I was at work one day... yes... I'm so fat now that someone thought I was pregnant when she saw me behind the counter and with my baggy unisex uniform on... FANTASTIC. SO, When Tristan gets back, I'm making him do Insanity with me. Well, it'll probably be more likely that he'll be making ME do insanity. Since he's the ONLY reason I went running last week, and the ONLY reason I've been doing ab workouts this week. I'm kind of tired of this flab, and not actually feeling comfortable in ANYTHING I wear anymore. I'm also tired of not being able to get my stomach to not hang over my pants when I finally get them buttoned... Soooo, here's to our sanity while we complete insanity. <br />
<br />
WE'LL PROBABLY GET TO HAVE MORE FUN IN THE KITCHEN THOUGH!<br />
We cook, well, we used to cook. We both LOVE cooking, although our stress levels have been so high that lately we've gotten lazy. And Tristan hates shopping so there's rarely the stuff to cook with unless we pre-plan everything. But we should probably start eating, and eating well, once we start insanity. I'm going to wind up looking online through those cook books that people recommend while you go on those super super super awf....awesome.. awesome... not awful... workout routines. But that'll mean more experimenting in the kitchen! When I first moved here we cooked FAR TOO OFTEN and wound up pitching more leftovers than food we actually ate, but that's mostly because most recipes are meant to feed families, not couples. So we wind up eating leftovers at work a lot. We still do now, but we've found that if we let ourselves be SUPER LAZY one day a week, we can cook two or three days a week and get by with lunches at work and dinners at home. But we rate all the recipes we make. On a pretty basic, yes or no, scale. When we take a few bites, we decide whether or not it's good, and then decide whether or not it's good enough for me to go through the trouble of writing it down in our new recipe book! YAY! We legitimately just bought a scrapbook, and I write the recipes on blank pages and then put them in the proper category. The scrapbook is small - only a 6x6 - but it works for us so far! It's a GREAT idea to not only gather new recipes, but keep the ONE recipe you liked out of that recipe book that is collecting dust on the shelf with your other favorites. I've got the three or four recipes from home that came out of a couple of different books and people that I LOVE, and it's all in ONE LOCATION, I love it. Especially since, living in an apartment, while we have a whole empty room, we have to find room for some things. We even have a scrapbook for things like drink mixes. I'm trying to come up with a way for us to save our favorite beers in there too, like cut off the labels on the boxes, or peel them off of the bottles and stick them to pages before putting them into the book. That way we always know! (although, we should probably keep three sections for those - one for my favorites, one for his, and one for the ones we both like - since we have WILDLY different tastes in beer. It's fun sometimes coming up with names for the random mixes we have, and Tristan was already a pretty good bar keep by the time I got here, so I'm TRYING to coerce him into giving me those mix "recipes" so I can put them in the book. <br />
<br />
I'M GETTING CRAFTY!<br />
The whole scrapbooks for the kitchen thing, kind of got me back into my crafting love. SO, since I don't really have much in the way of scrapbooking for anything else, I'm actually painting. I wanted to try a button tree painting, and then wound up buying a pack of 7 canvases for pretty cheap, and then one thing lead to another and WALLAH! So I still have only those 7 canvases for things other than personal projects, but it's still fun. I have SO MANY IDEAS about what would be SO COOL on canvas, or on a wall, or anything like that, but money is a factor. I currently don't have the money to fuel this yet, and we don't have the space for 7 canvases that don't really fit in with any room in anything in apartment - a few of them do, but we don't have enough wall space to not make things look cluttered and awful. <br />
<br />
SO NOW I'M AN ENTREPRENEUR! <br />
I'm selling my stuff on Etsy! I'm going to try posting the paintings I make - and did I mention Tristan is going to carve for the store too? - here and then if you're interested you can look at our store! But yes! I'm an entrepreneur! I am working half from home half from PetSmart and hopefully will be able to find another job to fuel my savings account, and start selling paintings to fuel my want to create more art! <br />
<br />
ON A SADDER NOTE... <br />
My little Je bear? He's sick. When I moved here, I found that he lost a lot of fur and got kind of skinny, I didn't think anything of it at first because the stress of moving, and then moving to a hotter climate - ferrets have a summer and a winter coat, just like most dogs and tend to lose weight in hotter temperatures - and then we added to his stress by having to fight off a huge flea infestation. I thought by now he would be better. And then I found that every other day - or so it seems - he has diarrhea. Its not consistent, which is terrifying, and he gets plenty of vitamins. He's continually losing fur, and weight, and is aggressive towards the cat now - he never was before and he's lived with cats and dogs all of his life - and can actually get kind of lethargic. I have never seen him sleep so much while he's in his cage, and he's not playing for as long before he lays down exhausted when he's out of his cage. SO I took him to the vet. And $150, two medications, and a blood workup later, Je not only has ear mites - not serious and currently being treated - but also has a lump in his abdomen... The vet said that it COULD just be a swollen lymph node, since he's sick, but it could also be a tumor. I don't remember what kind of tumor she said it would be, but I'm pretty sure that after my research today, it is inoperable. The doctor started telling me that his just being sick, might lead him to be grumpier, more tired, and have a decrease in fur. But the tumor - which could cause the vet to diagnose hypoglycemia - is also a much more logical conclusion. BUT We are currently force feeding meds to the poor guy and will be seeing my favoritest veterinarian in a couple of weeks, and then we will have more information! Fingers crossed people, fingers crossed. <br />
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I think that's all for now... I think... sorry for the novella of an update into our lives, but there it is! Caitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818268884074943548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054410568774475044.post-66459706486236994162012-07-19T17:49:00.000-07:002012-07-19T17:49:16.812-07:00Jumping PlagueFLEAS! My apartment is infested with Fleas!!!!
I absolutely hate bugs, which is obviously why I moved to South Carolina - because it's bug free, right? So of course, when I got to my new home, and there was a mass infestation of fleas, I went crazy. We bathed both cats twice that night, and then bathed the ferret, we sprayed the apartment with "anti-bug" stuff, and put flea medication on the cats once they had dried. That was several weeks ago, and although the NUMBER of fleas I'm seeing has fallen, I'm still finding fleas on my bed clothes, and on the cats. One even jumped on my foot when I was standing in the kitchen making dinner! EW!
We've treated the cats several times, we've even done research to get rid of them on the ferret. It got so bad at one point, that we wound up spraying the apartment to prevent further infestation, then put the cats in their carriers, the ferret in a box and sat out back for four hours after setting off a series of flea bombs. (did I mention we set those bombs off at 9 PM?)
SO, today, I set off on a super endeavor. I have vacuumed every inch - including underneath ALL of the furniture (all of which I moved myself, as I'm home alone this week) - then put borax on everything, even the upholstered furniture, which I then rubbed or beat into those surfaces, waited 35 minutes, and then vacuumed everything once again. I washed EVERYTHING, dirty clothes that have been sitting in the hamper, the bed clothes, the pillows went through the dryer and even my stuffed animals went through a washing process. I then sprayed the outline of my apartment with the bug stuff - as per the directions - put medications on the ferret and both cats, and then put the ferret in his ball - which he hates, but that's a story for later - so that the borax could sink into his carpeted ramps for a bit longer before I vacuum his cage too.
If this doesn't work, and I'm still finding fleas ANYWHERE in a week? Then I'm going to freak. I will no longer know what to do, and will insist that we treat the cats and run from the flea problem. Or perhaps call an exterminator.
The problem is: That the infestation isn't actually all that bad. I'm not attacked by several fleas every time I walk somewhere, and I only find random ones here and there on the cats. But I HATE FLEAS. and I HATE BUGS. Please understand, I'm taking drastic measures - like moving furniture on my own at 8:30 at night to get to the floor underneath it - to get to the darn things OUT OF MY LIFE.
I hate fleas.... hate them... HATE them... someone please explain to me how on earth they are helpful to our environment, can't we kill them all, please? What animal or insect or arachnid depends on them so heavily that they HAVE to exist? Blech.Caitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818268884074943548noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9054410568774475044.post-12704308123387552682012-07-19T16:55:00.000-07:002012-07-19T16:55:11.103-07:00Stars on the WallI have never been very good at this whole Blogging thing. I have started many MANY blogs in an attempt to just randomly post stuff about my life - fun stories, sad stories, random stories - you know, the 'keep people updated on my life' type of stories. Whether people are reading my stories or not, I'm going to try to keep up with them, to post them when they happen. I'm gonna try to keep up with my other blogs too, to post what I deem to be "good" pictures, and "good" works of art that I create. But this one, this one will just be my life.
So here's the scoop on ME. What am I all about?
I'm young. Well, youngish. Not even able to drink I'm 19 1/2 years old. My first year of college turned out to be my worst year of school yet. I went into my freshman year of college as a hopeful psychology major and came out as a beaten, battered and bruised Zoology major who was looking to change to Animal Science. Originally hailing from a small town in Ohio, I recently decided to move in with my childhood best friend and boyfriend of almost a year in South Carolina. I currently don't have work, although I'm looking, and don't plan on returning to school for at least a year.
Most of my stories will probably come from my pets, currently my boyfriend and I have two cats - Eeva, the Kitten and Sarafina, the three legged cat - a Betta named Allistor and a Ferret named Jelani - Usually called Je.
So why the title for the Blog?
Well, aside from the obvious Dr. Who reference - did I mention I'm a bit of a geek? - in my recent move and all that I'm doing now, the realization that life is incredibly short has hit me like a semi. You can't blink for long or you'll miss some of the life you're creating or have created. If you blink for even a moment, you're missing out on something. So, here's me, trying not to miss out, and trying to keep the stories of my life in something other than my crappy memory.Caitlynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07818268884074943548noreply@blogger.com0