A Tail of Two (Okay, Three) Kitties - 2

Part 2 of 3 (Scroll down for Part 1)

Jasmine and I lived a very happy life together for several years. Every once in a while, I toyed with the idea of getting another kitty. I took mental turns projecting contentment and lonliness onto Jasmine. One day, I would think how fun it would be for her to have a companion during the days while I was at work. The next, I was sure she would find the idea repugnant since she would no longer get all of the attention. (I mean, I actually thought it would hurt her feelings and make her mad at me! Oh dear.) Around that time, I had moved to a house that was located blocks away from the Humane Society. One of my favorite things to do was to torture myself looking at cats and kittens - I would stop by "just to see them" in their little cages, but always force myself to leave without any of them. But, one day, I saw this little kitty. She was a little bit bigger (about 12 weeks old) than some of the kittens I'd considered before, but like Jasmine, she just sat at the edge of her little enclosure, watching me while her siblings rolled around and played and ate. She was mostly black - beautiful long, silky black fur with a white star on her chest, white "armpit hair" under each front leg, and her most unique feature - - grey tufts of hair behind each ear. I call them her "ear flaps". I broke the cardinal rule of window shopping, I asked to hold her. She and I had a little talk, but I wanted to be sure I was ready to take on a second pet so I took advantage of the 24-hour hold rule. By the time I got home (literally 5 minutes later) I knew she should be my kitty. I went out the next morning, got a few extra toys, and some kitten food and headed back over to pick her up. When I arrived, I went straght to her little cage...and she was GONE! I asked around. The person I'd worked with the day before was off but evidently, they had neglected to perfom a key step in the 24-hour hold process, which was to actually HOLD the kitty. The woman behind the counter informed me that someone had adopted her about an hour earlier. I was really upset by this point. I'd seen her, held her, and thought of names for her (she was originally going to be "Joey" - I've always loved the Concrete Blonde song of the same name, and I thought it was a cute name with Jasmine...). She was MINE and she was GONE! They said they'd call the family who had adopted her and "ask them" if they would consider bringing her back. They sent me home and said they'd call me when they heard from them. Fortunately, this other family took pity and even though they probably loved her, too, they did bring her back. I raced back to bring her home. Within the first day, even though she was an awkward little adolecent kitten, her silky black fur (which turns to mink brown in the sunlight) and pretty markings told me that the name "Joey" was too tomboy for her. She was a Zoey.

Now, Jasmine wasn't wild about the idea, and she wasted no time in asserting herself. Zoey was fine with that, she just wanted to play play play. It took them some time, but they became buddies. I really did think they'd have a lot more time together. It ended up only being around 4 years. During that time, they each earned their very appropriate nicknames. Pukebucket and Shitass were my babies. Jasmine was famous for wolfing down her food and then puking it back up again. And, poor little Zoey...she had her first "accident" early on, when she came home to live with us she got scared and shat herself. All of that silky long fur - - and after the brief ride home, she looked like she sat in pudding. I thought - hey, it's her first time away from her siblings, I'd probably do the same thing. But it, sadly, was a foreshadowing of things to come. Fierce little Jasmine was like my Guard Cat, but Zoey was more like my Scaredy Cat. I've moved twice since bringing Zoey home that day. Each time during transit to the new place, she's been scared to the point of pooping. Poor little thing.

Since Jasmine died, Zoey has taken on the one woman cat role. She's pretty standoffish around people. Like Jasmine, though, she's so pretty, people want to pet her. A lucky few get that chance, but most of the time she hangs out in places where only I am. She will sit next to me for ages, and just wait to be petted. If she just can't take it any more, she reaches out her paw and places it on my hand, or my arm, or my shoulder - a gentle reminder, "Here I am, see?"

Here they are:


Zoey, the shadow:


They both pretend to be ignoring each other:


Then, with no warning...ATTACK!!


Followed by kisses:


They had fun together.

A Tail of Two (Okay, Three) Kitties - 1

Part 1 of 3

DSCF0961, originally uploaded by d_jazmine.

One day when I was in my mid-twenties I decided the time had come for me to become a pet owner. It hit me out of the blue, I wanted a kitten. Specifically, a calico kitten. I’m not sure why, but the thought of a calico cat had always been appealing to me. Now, I’m the kind of person who makes her mind up, then puts the plan into action. No spreadsheets, no compiling of raw data, no studies of pros and cons…just jump right in. So, while I was at my desk at the office where I worked at the time, I called the Humane Society with hopes of driving straight there after work to pick out my kitty. They were closed. Some people would have taken that as a sign that this was not to be. I took it as a sign that I needed to work harder to find my kitty cat. I was lamenting the fact that my need for instant gratification didn’t match up with the funding available for staffing at the Humane Society, when one of my co-workers said “Hey, my cat just had kittens a few weeks ago, you can have pick of the litter if you want one!”. I said, “Thanks, but I was really hoping to find a calico kitty.” She said “The mom is calico, and so is one of the kittens!” So, off to the farm I drove that night, to see the babies. When I arrived, all of the kittens were piled up having supper on mommy…all except for one tiny calico kitten who marched over to the edge of the box, looked up and me, and said “MEW!”. I was a goner. I cannot tell you how cute she was. My precious baby Jasmine. She was only 6 weeks old, so I did end up having to wait a couple of weeks to bring her home, but on the designated day, I found the softest blanket in my closet, set up her litter box and kitten food, and headed out to pick her up. She was so teensy weensy. I have pictures of her at home, playing with an old 35mm film container, and it was the size of her torso. Insane! She never got bigger than 7lbs. She was petite and beautiful and extremely graceful and athletic. From day one, she was always a one-woman cat. I loved that about her. There were times that I envied people who had cats who would jump happily into anyone’s lap and purr away, but Jasmine was never that way. She had very discriminating taste. Furthermore, she used her perfect pink kitty nose and all of that petite cuteness to lure in many victims over the years. No one could resist her charms, but most wished they had. It was like she got a kick out of seeing how many people she could trick into trying to pet her, only to pay them back by taking a swipe at their fingers. I once took an online “personality” test on her behalf, and her result was: “Al Capone”, possible aliases: Biggie, Mugsy, Vinny, Killer, Claws, The Predator, and Meanie. Because most of my family and friends would agree wholeheartedly (and at least partial-fingeredly), I had a hard time convincing them that when I wanted to get comfy on the couch and watch a movie, she was always my cuddle buddy – she nestled perfectly right into the crook of my arm, with her little fuzzy head on my shoulder. If I was sad, she would come over and investigate, sandpaper licking away salty tears when necessary. Although I used my mommy-tone to “scold” her when she swiped at yet another visitor, she knew from my secret winks that deep down, I adored the fact that she loved me the best.

The hardest thing I ever had to do was say goodbye to Jasmine. She got sick when she was only 10 years old...way too young in kitty years. I had looked forward to spending another 10 years with her when one day, she just didn't seem herself. I took her to the vet, to be told she was in kindey failure. They offered to euthenize her right on the spot if I wanted, since the prognosis was pretty grim. I was shocked and in no way prepared for the news. Since they said she wasn't in pain, we got some fluids in her (I took her in every couple of days for weeks)and she bounced back for a while. I think she knew I wasn't ready, so she let me have a few more months. Then, on April 18th, 2007, I took her in for her last vet visit. They say that we know when it's time for our pets to say goodbye, and it was true. I knew. Ironically, it was my Grandma's birthday (she never was a big cat fan) and the day before my own birthday. That day, I cried the first salty tears in 10 years that she couldn't kiss away. A few slip down my cheeks from time to time, even now, when I think of her. She was my first, after all.

Stay tuned for parts 2 and 3.

...URP! (eeew!!)

So, in the middle of the night last night, I woke up, uncertain at first what had interrupted my gentle slumber. Moments later, the sounds of my roommate vacating her gastric cavity orally (a.k.a. PUKING HER GUTS OUT) into the toilet cleared that up for me. I chanted mentally "don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it" and eventually, I was able to fall back asleep. A few hours later, I was again awakened by a familiar and haunting sound: ack-ack-ack-ack-HAAACK...my CAT puking up a hairball - - on my bed!! EEEWW! Throw blanket on floor (I know, that's gross, but I was trying to recover quickly without having to wake all the way up), get another blanket, "don't think about it don't think about it don't think about it" and eventually, I fell back to sleep. As the sun rose, basking my room in a soft pink glow, I was yet again awakend by the violent splashing of stomach contents into the toilet. So, I guess you could say I'm happy to be at work right now. I hosed down the bathroom with Lysol. I scrubbed myself clean, and have applied antibacterial hand cleanser several times this morning. I enjoyed what has become my standard breakfast: Airborne, Advil, and Vitamin C.

Oh, please don't let me get sick, I HATE being sick!!

Election Day, 2009: NO ON 1 in Maine

So, yesterday, I was tuning in to some of the big election day “hotspots”. Specifically, I was paying attention to the “No On 1” campaign in Maine. I remember last spring, thinking – those lucky people in Maine – finally some progress being made for the GLBT community there. So, I was particularly interested in the outcome of this issue on the ballots. While I was online, I saw the Facebook status of a Maine resident, and it read “Yes on 1! Stand for marriage between one man and one woman!!” As you might expect, this person had like-minded friends who posted notes supporting this stance, but the one that stood out to me was this one, which said:

“C'mon Christians! Get out there and vote... Don't vote your conscience. Don't FOLLOW your heart - it'll steer you wrong. (Above all, the heart is deceitful and wicked...) LEAD your heart, and vote according to Gods principals. That would be a resounding "YES", on 1!!”

It got me thinking – whoa! That’s really what we’re up against, isn’t it? I was glad that very shortly after I saw that, I happened upon this:

http://www.melwhite.org/blog/91

…which basically says (and I quote): “I will no longer debate the issue of homosexuality in the church with anyone. I will no longer engage the biblical ignorance that emanates from so many right-wing Christians about how the Bible condemns homosexuality, as if that point of view still has any credibility. I will no longer discuss with them or listen to them tell me how homosexuality is “an abomination to God,” about how homosexuality is a “chosen lifestyle,” or about how through prayer and “spiritual counseling” homosexual persons can be “cured.” Those arguments are no longer worthy of my time or energy.”

What I know for sure is that, someday, we will reach the point where “with liberty and justice for all” actually applies to ALL, and not “some”. I just hope and pray that we don’t do irreparable damage to each other in the struggle to get there.

God is LOVE, people. Doesn’t it make your heart sing to believe that? It does mine.

Olan, sporting his U of M gear. Go Gophers!!

President Obama On Winning the Nobel Peace Prize

This speech is an example of why he deserved to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. I'm amazed by all the people who ran around calling others communists and terrorists and socialists if there was the slightest question about Bush while he was in office - "YOU MUST SUPPORT YOUR PRESIDENT DURING A TIME OF WAR" was being blared over the loudspeakers... And, we now have a President who has been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, and he's being torn apart by most of those very same people. My aunt Ann said it best: could we all possibly get behind our President and give him a chance to actually fulfill the potential of his election?

Matthew Shepard - 11 Years Later

It is absolutely heartbreaking to see those images of Matthew as a child. Instant tearjerker. It shouldn't be any more heartbreaking than seeing pictures of him as he was when he died; but it's such a forceful reminder - he was their child. He was a human being. NO ONE deserves what happened to him, not even the people who did it to him. (Well...maybe them...but no one else!) And, as long as I'm here - can we get a WOOT WOOT for Ellen? She's one uber cool chick.

Olan's STAR themed 1st Birthday Party

Seattle Brock and OLAN 435, originally uploaded by d_jazmine.

We enjoyed a fun day of celebrating, and watching all of the boys play at the park at the Pavillion at Parker's Lake. Brock, Brayden and Olan had so much fun! Rayna was precious and appeared to have a perfectly lovely time (with the exception of her brief and chilly wardrobe change, necessitated by the fact that she's got a stellar digestive tract firing on all cylinders!). There was a nice breeze, so a kite was flown, and each of the boys took turns with it. It was a beautiful day!

HAPPY 1st BIRTHDAY OLAN!

Make a wish!

Seattle Brock and OLAN 393, originally uploaded by d_jazmine.

Brock demonstrates the proper form for candle blowing. Aren't they cute all lined up?

Olan and Brayden rocking their star sunglasses

Seattle Brock and OLAN 434, originally uploaded by d_jazmine.

The Masterpiece Birthday Cake

Seattle Brock and OLAN 336, originally uploaded by d_jazmine.

Created by Kjersti and Alex, who, through careful and precise measurements, used 2 9x13 cakes to create this shooting star...with NO un-used cake! ;)

Birthday Cake

Seattle Brock and OLAN 388, originally uploaded by d_jazmine.

Brayden shares a "chip" with Olan

Seattle Brock and OLAN 365, originally uploaded by d_jazmine.

Brock and Olan

Seattle Brock and OLAN 379, originally uploaded by d_jazmine.

Brock flies the kite

Seattle Brock and OLAN 339, originally uploaded by d_jazmine.

Brayden and Daddy fly the kite

Seattle Brock and OLAN 343, originally uploaded by d_jazmine.

Group Shot

DSC_0070, originally uploaded by d_jazmine.

In front of the beautiful church where Olan was Baptized. It was such a pretty day!

Olan's Baptism

DSC_0081, originally uploaded by d_jazmine.

Daddy Alex, Mommy Kjersti, and Baby Olan on Baptism day.

Giant Baby!

IMG_4053, originally uploaded by d_jazmine.

Here come those teeth!

Olan is Bendy

IMG_4178, originally uploaded by d_jazmine.

This was taken during our recent visit for Olan's Baptism. I can't believe how he's growing - it's so fun to see.