Kiss My Knits!

I’m sorry to report that our cat, Nerys, passed away last night.

I came home last night at about 7. Shortly after that, the cat started to dry heave. I followed her around to be sure she was okay. She was rather shaky on her feet. I took her to the vet, who wanted to watch her for 72 hours. Their initial thought was a stroke, since they spotted a blood clot behind one of her eyes.

I got a call from the vet at about 2am saying that she’d had a seizure and asking for our permission to treat things more aggressively, which I gave. But apparently it was all downhill from there, and Nerys passed away at about 4am this morning. We’re still waiting for a full report, but right now it appears that she had renal failure which led to hypertension which led to seizures. She may also have had a brain tumor or some kind of lymphoma, but we don’t really know yet.

The vet did everything she could, but to no avail. It seems pretty clear that it was just Nerys’s time to go, and that even if they’d been able to revive her, her quality of life for her remaining six months or so would have been unacceptable. She was 17 years old and had lived a good life.

There’s an item that’s been on my wish list for a long time. I needed a pick-me-up a couple of weeks ago, so I ordered it. It arrived last week.

Behold! The finish line doormat! When I put it on my wish list, I thought it would be great after a run. Now I think it’s just great because it is a reminder that yes, I am done with the many many tasks of the day and I am home. I have made it through another day. I win!

I wasn’t home when it arrived, so my husband dropped me a line asking what this giant box was on the doorstep and whether our daughter could open it. I told him what it was, and they opened it.

He wasn’t kidding about it being an enormous box. Seriously, Amazon? You had to kill an entire tree to ship me a doormat? With a box that big, it’s easy to see why Em was so eager to open it. Still, Mr. Tvini says that she looked disappointed after it was open.

It went something like this:

Dad: But Mom told us what it was – a doormat.
Em: Yes, I know. I just thought it might be something cool.

Sorry, kid. At least the cat enjoyed it.

It’s way past time to go to bed. There’s another race to be run tomorrow, and that finish line is still a long way off. Night!

I went to bed last night later than I should have, which is par for the course. As I closed my eyes, I heard a little “skritch skritch” sound coming from a corner of our bedroom. I’m pretty sure it was a mouse. I got up, baited a “live catch” trap and set it. And then I couldn’t sleep, because I just knew that I’d hear the trap close, and then I’d either have to get up and get dressed and go out and set it free near the woods or I’d have to lie there in the dark listening to it scratch or ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzz………..

When I woke up this morning, there was no mouse in the trap. That corner of the room holds our dirty clothes hamper, and a few items had missed the basketball-like toss from across the room. It also had a few balls of wool roving (in plastic packaging) so if a mouse were going to pick a corner of our room, that would be the best candidate. I cleaned up a bit, but saw no signs of rodent activity. Was I just dreaming the whole thing? I’ve put the trap a little closer to the corner, so I suppose we’ll see. I had dreams last night that the trap had attracted ants, so now I’ve got vermin on the brain.

I’m a good liberal, but the one place I have a zero tolerance immigration policy is in regard to pests entering my house. My orange striped border guard cat is a little more lackadaisical. I still remember the time some years ago when a mouse tore apart my white bathrobe in the closet to make a little nest in our linen closet. If this mouse gets into my beloved new dress, I may have to fire the cat. From a cannon.

I just want a vermin-free house, is that so wrong?

Today, while we were taking a break from homeworkpalooza, the cat jumped onto my daughter’s desk and began eating her papers.
I kid you not. This actually happened.
Worst. Cat. Ever.

Man, it’s cold in the den today. Why is it so cold? I mean, I know this is the coldest room in the house, but this seems colder than usual.

Why? Maybe because someone has parked her carcass directly in front of the heating vent.

Sigh.

We keep our laundry detergent on the back of the washer, which is in our kitchen. The other day, while the machine was in its spin cycle, the detergent bottle vibrated off of the back of the washer and hit the floor. My husband and I were both in other rooms and didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t the first time that had happened. Unbeknownst to us, the bottle had landed directly on its lid. The bottle was full. A lagoon of detergent was slowly spreading across the kitchen floor.
And then hilarity ensued.

She looks so innocent.
You’d never know she’s pure evil.

Our cat Nerys has a vet appointment this morning, and she’s not allowed to eat anything beforehand.

The way Nerys lets us know she’s hungry is ingenious, but annoying and destructive. She finds paper and rips shreds off of it, as if to say, “See? I’m eating this… then looking at you… then eating this… therefore you should give me food? Get it? No? I’ll eat some more and see if you get it.”

Because she’s a cat and therefore illiterate, she doesn’t know what she’s eating. Corners of books, receipts, it really doesn’t matter. If there’s nothing on the floor, she’ll grab something off of a table, pull it to the floor, and then eat it.

Today’s feast: Emily’s first quarter progress report, which we need to sign and get back to school on Monday. The Spanish side is up, the English side with her good report on it is down.

I guess we’ll see if “the cat ate my homework” is a valid excuse for school.

Some days you get the pelican…
…some days the pelican gets you.

Isn’t there some kind of saying about curiosity and cats? Hm.

WearWithStyle‘s quality control manager inspects Jayne hats bound for Texas’s Can’t Stop The Serenity showings this weekend.
Check for a Serenity screening near you!

ETA: Usually my yarn is kept in plastic bags. She just happened to find those on the couch while I was getting boxes ready. Most of the hats are not rubbed on cats, I promise.