About Apollo



Apollo

The absolute first to show up when food is present!

Bound and determined to figure out how to open up that refrigerator.

His eyes look as though they’ve been outlined in eye liner.

Has the loudest purr of our colony, as well as the most incessant meow.

Was the runt of the Greek Gang.  Hard to believe that now!

Hissed at me the very first time he saw me.

Adores being brushed and will, in fact, jump up onto the grooming table if he thinks I’m being too slow in putting him there!

His favorite toy is an old ratty rabbit foot looking thing that was once on the end of a wand.  It routinely goes missing but when it’s found, he’s in total heaven (until he loses it again!)

One of his favorite spots is sitting behind me on my chair.  In fact, he’s there right now J

Was my special project as a foster because he was so shy, they were afraid no one would ever adopt him.  So, I had to isolate him in the bathroom and then go in and spend one on one time with him in order to get him socialized.  It worked, alright; WE adopted him!

Am pretty sure he’s part squirrel; not only is his fur squirrel like, but he chitters.

Has to be the first into the cat box after it’s been freshly cleaned.

His ears are tipped in golden-colored fur; hence, him being named after the Greek God of the Sun!

Is still a major scaredy-cat when people he doesn’t know are around.  Until it’s time to eat, that is!

Is very competitive when playing; will attempt to run off with whatever toy we are using.

Seems to enjoy “fraternizing” with a few of Lucy’s toys; hedgehog, bunny and squirrel in particular.  He’ll even drag them off to his lair!

Last…but certainly NOT least.

My Buddy.

About Athena

Athena

Is reminiscent of a little bunny rabbit as not only is she the smallest of our cats, she chews on EVERYTHING!

In no way shape or form resembles her name.  She is Boopie, and that’s that!

Refuses to participate in the morning turkey lunch meat ritual with the other five pets and is very particular about what cat treats she’ll eat. Beef and chicken only, thank you very much.

Bops along to the beat of her own drummer; while the other cats will likely be somewhere nearby one another, she prefers her solitude.

Hence, the guest bedroom is also known as “Boopie’s Room”.

Notable exception is she has come to totally adore Lucy; in fact, we’ll often find her cuddled up in between Lucy’s paws or standing underneath her.  Lucy takes it in stride.

She’s soft, soft, soft!

Loves to sprawl in the sun.

Although she be little, she be fierce.  Dinner time in particular brings out her aggressive side.  It’s not unusual to see her swiping at one of her brothers and will sometimes go after her pal Lucy as well (although she is wise enough to leave Lily alone!)

She’s a very prolific barfer.

Always has a suspicious look on her face; hence another nickname,
“Suspicious Minds”.

Does NOT travel well in the car!

Loathes being on the other side of any closed door.

                Is so tiny, she has to wear a collar made for kittens.    

Was the first of the pets to fall in the pool (and hasn’t been in there since!)

Routinely makes early morning noises when playing  that sound so much like a woman in, well, the throes of passion, that we’ve had to tell house guests up front about it so as to avoid any awkwardness.

Our Little Miss Boopie B.

Kitty Love and Doggy Love (Well, Sort Of...)

Ares, Pete and Lily

Apollo and Lucy "Getting Along"

Everyone but Athena having a swell time in the sun room a few days ago (she is either anti social or independent, I haven't figured out which yet).

We're off for a mini-vacation tomorrow; a few days in the NC wine country. Brother Jon'll be watching the cats; Lucy will be at her favorite place (next to being home); Uncle Chuck's (the vet).

Mrs. B

A S(Tick)y Situation!

I've lived in NC over five years now. I swear to God, even though I've heard all about ticks, I had yet to see one.

That all changed yesterday.

When I woke up, I was lying on my stomach. Still half asleep, I brushed at the back of my leg with my hand. I felt something adhered to my leg so I sort of knocked it off. I was trying to get back to sleep when some part of my brain kicked in with "What the hell WAS that on my leg?"

I jumped out of bed and wrenched my head around to look at my leg. There was an ugly looking red spot that hurt like the dickens. My first thought was I'd been bitten by a spider (I've seen A LOT of spiders lately). Worried about what TYPE of spider it might be, I started hunting through the sheets for what I'd pulled off my leg.

I didn't see anything at first. Then, I noticed a small little dot on the sheet. I peered closer and realized the dot was crawling, albeit slowly, away from me. I sort of shrieked when I saw it's little legs waving at me, as if to say, "Ciao, ciao, baby, thanks for the snack!"

I ran into the bathroom for a Kleenex. I wanted to keep it to show it to Mr. B (who was out walking Lucy) to confirm my suspicion that it was, indeed, a TICK.

Mr. B and Lucy came home a few minutes later. When they came into the bedroom, he was surprised to see me up. I was a tad hysterical when I told him what happened. Am I gonna die? Will I get some disease? I knew you were not supposed to pull ticks off because you leave their legs in you!

Well, he corrected me; it's not the legs, it's the mouth. He looked at the little creature in the Kleenex (who, despite my having placed the soap dispenser on one end and a bottle of saline on the other to keep it trapped, had managed to get out and was on the lam across the bathroom counter top).

Yep, definitely a tick. He then looked at my leg and ascertained that there was no little tick mouth stuck in my bite. Thank God (although I guess the tick might not be able to move if it didn't have its head).

He fixed me up with ointment and a band-aid, Mr. Tick went on the one way whirley trip down the toilet, and Mr. B checked out Lucy.

He found a tick on her leg and got it off right away with tweezers (it had not adhered to her yet). He didn't find any others.

He then checked himself out and didn't find any ticks but he did find a bite in, uh, well, let's just say a sensitive place. So, Mr. Tick had likely gone from Mr. B to me.

Well, I was not taking any chances! I took off our bedding, as well as Lucy's bed cover, and took them downstairs to wash them. I also decided to wash all the throw rugs and her other bed cover.

Suffice it to say, Lucy got a dose of Frontline.

Later that morning, I went to go let Lucy out. When she sat at the door, I noticed the place where the Frontline was was turning black. EEK! I let her out and called Mr. B. He told me not to worry too much but see if I couldn't take a picture and email it to him.

I went outside to take a picture of her. I came back in to upload it to my computer. As it was uploading, I went back to let her in. Thankfully, I thought it might be a good idea to look at her feet before I let her into the main part of the house.

That is when I found at least three ticks on her. I made her stay put, went and got the tweezers, and, like I'd seen Mr. B do, tried to pry the first one off.

She yanked her foot and I got most of it. But, I knew some of it was still there. So, like Mr. B had told me to do, I went to get some oil. I smothered the little fu$$er with it and it plopped off.

I did the same with the 2nd one.

The third one, though, would not budge no matter how much oil I put on it.

Around this time, Mr. B called to find out where the picture was. I was none too happy and told him our yard was full of ticks. He decided it would be best to leave work, go get some insecticide, and come home to spray the yard and get the uncooperative tick off Lucy.

In the meantime, I put Lucy in the sunroom and went to check on Pete and Lily. I didn't find anything on them (but Pete was not very happy with me and kept yanking his paws away). I started to wonder if we should get Frontline for them, too.

Throughout all of this, I was in email conversation with my SIL Analee who was a big help, thanks, Analee! She had a lot of good advice.

I called our vet and they said it would be a good idea to get Frontline for Pete and Lily. They told me not to worry about it being poisonous; they'd have to lick up tons of it to do any harm and they probably wouldn't get past the first lick because it's very bitter tasting and makes them foam at the mouth (I was worried about them licking it off one another).

Mr. B came home and got the tick off of Lucy, found a few more, got them off, and went out to treat the yard. He told me we would not be able to let Lucy out into the yard for at least 48 hours.

After he went back to work, I walked Lucy.

When we came home, I took her straight to the sunroom where I thoroughly looked her over. And found several more ticks.

By this time, she was not happy. She was not very cooperative when I tried to smother them with oil and, to make a long story short, I was getting frustrated and couldn't get them off. Additionally, Pete (on the other side of the sunroom door) kept trying to climb in between the door and the blinds; rattling the blinds all over creation. I looked over and saw his little face smashed into the glass and didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

I did neither. I shouted and pounded on the door and he ran away.

Thoroughly disgusted, frustrated and freaked out at this point, I sent Mr. B a text telling him I was going to keep Lucy in the sunroom until he got home because I couldn't get the ticks off her and I didn't want them hopping off her and onto Pete, Lily or me. Poor thing, but, what else could I do?

I then went to put the clothes that he'd worn while treating the yard (which were outside in the garage) into the washer. After I did so, I noticed small red splotches on the floor in the utility room. I got down to take a closer look, and, GROSS! They were ticks that had fallen either out of his clothes or off of Lucy when we came back from our walk. They'd been so full of blood that they literally splattered when they hit the ground.

Mr. B called at that point and said he was coming home (obviously, he realized his wife was in danger of completely melting down; plus, he didn't think it was a good idea to leave the ticks on Lucy).

While waiting for him, I ran around like a banshee vacuuming everything I could think of to vacuum. In the middle of a horrific thunder and lightening storm, too. I didn't even care that I ran a (small) risk of getting electrocuted!

When he arrived, he, once again, got the ticks off Lucy. He decided this time to work from home for the rest of the day. I drove over to the vet to get the Frontline for Pete and Lily (BTW this stuff is NOT CHEAP!)

I got home and we dosed the cats. Neither were too happy about it but thankfully they'd been in the midst of one of their afternoon naps so were sorta sleepy and didn't put up much of a fight.

Pete promptly turned his head 180 degrees and tried to lick at his spot. Lily managed to get some of hers and you should have seen the grimace on her face when she tasted it.

After that, things calmed down somewhat. Mr. B took Lucy for a long walk while I crashed on the couch upstairs with Pete on my chest. Later, we had a martini (I think I could have used two but kept it to one) and, after dinner, we walked Lucy again (that made #4!)

I have not found any ticks on her, me, Mr. B or The Twins today. Thank God. Hopefully, the Frontline has kicked in on all three of them so, even if they do manage to pick up a hitch hiking tick or two, the little you know whats will bite them, ingest their blood, and die.

Die, die, you little gross things! What possible good or benefit does a tick offer this world?

I can't think of anything!

Anyway, what a day!

Mrs. B

PS

The black spot on Lucy's fur is gone today and we threw out the bag from the vacuum cleaner so as not to risk reintroducing any ticks or tick eggs to our carpet the next time I vacuum.

Potential Names for TBD New Kitties

Nope, we're not yet ready to jump into the wide blue yonder with regards to obtaining new kitties. YET. The time's a'comin, though; Mrs. B, despite how much she loves her Goose, just can't be without kitties for too long.

So, as I work on completing (and therefore, grieving for/honoring) Clyde's album (almost done; the last few pages are always tough), and, as Mr. B contemplates what wood to use for Nigel and Clyde's urns (unfortunately, the balsa that dad gave us wasn't strong enough to withstand the tooling), I've been letting my mind wander down the path of what names we'll bestow on our new family members once they do arrive (I suppose I'm picking up on "new name fever" from my sister in law, Analee!)

Anyway, for the most part, I've always done this; picked out the name for the pet BEFORE I actually had the pet. I knew, for example, that Nigel would be Nigel. I knew Clyde would be Clyde and I knew Lucy would be Lucy. I also tend to like to name my pets "people" names (not that I think other names like Tramp or Skippy or Peanut or whatever are bad names for pets; just not my style, is all).

So, awhile back, when Mr. B and his folks were discussing some of their prior pets, and, in particular the cat they had when Mr. B was a baby (who used to sleep in his crib with him), I immediately knew our next cat would be named after Mr. B's protector; PETE.

What about the other cat? And, yes, I DO want two cats. Well, my brother keeps insisting on REPEAT, but, as funny as that is, it doesn't fit my name selection criteria (although it IS two syllables, which I want).

Yes, I decided the 2nd name had to be two syllables. I mean, I think one of the reasons "Nigel and Clyde" sounded so good together was there was a flow to it; and, that due to one name having one syllable and the other having two.

Pete, obviously, has one syllable so the other name must have two.

These names are ones I'm seriously considering, all of them (although I'm sort of leaning towards one in particular). And, the cats will be known in the order of "Pete and (fill in the blank)".

And, oh by the way, if for some bizarre reason the 2nd cat turns out to be a female (not likely since I prefer male cats but, never say never) her name will be Lily.

So, here are the names....drum roll, please!

Pete and Billy

Pete and Henry

Pete and Ahab

Pete and Seamus (pronounced Shay-mus)

So, what do y'all think?

Mrs. B

Cloned Pets

I saw an article in the paper this morning http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/08/05/AR2008080502012.html about a lady (from the US, I think) who used a South Korean company to clone her dead pit bull. Now, I'm not sure, exactly, how this all worked, she must have had DNA taken from the dog prior to its death and frozen or something? Anyway, this company charged her $50,000 and cloned five pit bull puppies from the dead dog's DNA. When she first saw the five puppies (being nursed and cared for by a surrogate dog), she exclaimed, "Yes, I know you! You know me, too!" In other words, she was assuming that, because these puppies were cloned from her dead dog, that they WERE her dead dog come back to life (times five).

I guess this same company successfully cloned a dog several years ago and have been "perfecting" their technique ever since. Now, they are offering this service to anyone willing to pay the price (and who happens to have DNA on hand of whatever pet they want cloned).

As you can imagine, this procedure (and its implications) have animal control and animal rights advocates in an up roar. Animal control because they fear that this will mean more pets bred as opposed to people going to the shelter to adopt a stray and animal rights because they say this is an unfair thing to hoist on the cloned animal. What's unfair? That the owner will automatically assume that the cloned pet(s) are, in reality, their dead one. Which of course, despite the shared DNA/genes, they can never be.

It takes more than DNA/genes to make up a living being. There is also environment, circumstances, and shared experiences. This woman may think these five puppies are "identical" to her dead dog, but, how can they be? Already, everything is different, including her. SHE'S not the same person she was when she got the first dog, how could she be? She's not going to have the same shared experiences with these puppies as she did her first dog. And, these dogs have four siblings that the first one didn't have.

So, frankly, I think it's sort of sad that this woman did this; obviously in hopes that she'd get her dead dog back. It's not fair to the new dogs, it's not fair to the ones in a shelter that she may have adopted instead, and, it's really going to end up a real disappointment to her when none of the five puppies turn out to be anything, really, like the dog that died. So, it's not fair to the dead dog's memory, either.

I think if I'd been able to clone Nigel and Clyde, they would have been pretty pissed off at me! Of course, I never would have, even had I had the chance, because no cats could ever replace Nigel or Clyde, not even ones that shared their DNA. I think it's more a natural progression of things to grieve what you've lost, hold memories of the loved ones close to your heart, remember, laugh, cry; but, move on. And, when you're ready to really move on, go find a completely new and different creature to adopt, cherish and shower with love and affection. Something that might otherwise not have a chance at a happy life.

That's just Mrs. B's opinion. What do y'all think?

Mrs. B

Beloved Friends

I've been feeling out of sorts all day today and I do know why that is. Two years ago on this day, we had Nigel put to sleep. It's hard to believe it's already been that long since we said good-bye; so many things that have happened since that he hasn't been a part of.

Mark and I both know that Nigel would have absolutely loved (and claimed ownership of) the sunroom in our new house. And, there is no doubt in our minds that he would have also claimed ownership of Lucy. Unfortunately, we'll never see that relationship develop and mature, but, I know they would have been pretty good buddies.

And, of course, I think about how Nigel might have comforted Clyde during his recent illness. Nigel was always the protective older brother and Clyde would have certainly liked to have had Nigel around to "take care" of him.

I won't say that these are fruitless and pointless thoughts; rather, they are simply poingnant wishes of things that can never be.

So, yeah, I've been sad today. I took down Nigel's album, the one I spent months making after he died, and read through it. Lots of tears and a bit of laughter. The pictures that are so hard for me to look at now are the ones of Nigel and Clyde together; certainly because Nigel is gone, but also because of Clyde being ill and me never knowing when he might leave me, too.

There is one picture of them sauntering down a hallway in a hotel in New Mexico. They are both fat and in their prime years. They were walking away from me as I snapped the picture, tails in the air, ears up, ready to explore (together) what was down that hallway.

As I looked at the picture and before I could stop myself, I cried out "Come back! Come back to me!"

I wish that they could; Nigel of course "coming home" and Clyde returning to his old robust fat self. of course, I know that can't happen. What will happen, though, is at some point they will be together again and, as hard as it's going to be, I can feel better knowing Nigel will once again be looking out for his little brother Clyde.

In the meantime, we continue to do what we think is best for Clyde and I continue to miss Nigel every single day of my life.

Here's the poem I wrote for him last year.

Mrs. B

Nigel’s Ears

Every so often
I’ll still find your hair
a whisper of a reminder
that you were once here

Then I close my eyes
blink back tears
and wish I could once again
kiss your silky ears

I keep the towel you died upon
tucked in a special place
as I do a whisker that once
was on your cherished face

I keep your favorite Buggy-toy
safely on my nightstand
(for a long time after you left me
I slept with it clutched within my hand)

When my sadness is such
that it rends me apart
I seek your precious memory
which has never left my heart

It’s been a year today
my heart’s begun to mend
aided by the certainty that
one day I’ll see you again

When my time comes
I will have no fear
for I will stoop and scoop you up
and kiss your silky ears

Dedicated to my best pal
Nigel T.
January 19, 1991-February 6, 2006
I’ll never stop missing you, Buggy.
Ever.