I made the executive decision to take Olive to the vet yesterday morning. I was waiting to see if she’d get better. Saturday she pooped after we got home. This was good news because the cat sitter said she had not done that in several days. She ate on Sunday. More good news.
Olive has an Rx for laxative and after a few doses, she seemed back to her normal self.
And then she didn’t.
She quit eating, drinking water, peeing and pooping. She’s been lethargic hiding away under the bed in the casita. She’d sneak out to vomit white foam. I didn’t think that was a good sign, so off to the vet.
Because this is a recurring issue with Olive — whenever we go on an extended vacation — the vet treated her symptoms rather than using diagnostic tools like X-ray, Ultrasound and blood work. This happened two years ago and they did all those tests. You should have seen the bill!
Now I’m waiting to see how she reacts to treatment. Waiting and waiting. The vet filled her with fluids, plus vitamins and a pain med. She’s drowsy and I’ll just have to wait some more.
I’m having a stressful day hoping Olive feels better. If she doesn’t get better, than I promised to bring her back for diagnostics.
Do you remember the old fashioned veterinarians we used to have? In our town, one vet would treat cats, dogs, horses and cows.
Santa Barbara Harbor is where our friends keep their sailboat and I get the best fish tacos in the world. At least I haven’t found any that are better.
“Let the clean air blow the cobwebs from your body. Air is medicine.”
Sunday was my first morning waking up in my own bed. After a long drive home, it felt good to get home and see Olive. My cat sitter texted me Tuesday, Thursday and called on Friday. Olive was done with our vacation. She had quit eating and was constipated. I told the cat sitter where Olive’s RX laxative was stored. I was anxious to get home to Olive.
We got home Saturday afternoon and Olive gave me a long plaintive cry. She was obviously uncomfortable and unhappy. We gave her another dose of laxative and by Saturday night, Olive was feeling better. I have to hold Olive while my better half forces the laxative into her mouth and down her throat. I have no idea how the cat sitter managed it alone.
So what about cobwebs, you ask?
Waking up in my own bed with a dramatic sunrise, I noticed lots of cobwebs outside. After I finished my morning routine, I went outside and knocked them down. Then I thought about what else I wanted to do outside before it got hot. I kicked in the pool and enjoyed drying off in the sun and breeze on the zero gravity recliner. I felt so much better being outside and getting fresh air after packing, driving, and unpacking.
I’ve decided to add a few things to my daily routine to get rid of the cobwebs in my body. I can poke around the yard after our morning walk and see what little things I need to attend to like cobwebs and weeds. Then I can jump in the pool. No, it’s not the Pacific Ocean, but I should take advantage of it every day before the cold weather hits.
While it’s still hot, I’m going to take my second walk of the day on the YMCA’s elliptical machine. At the beach, we were walking in the morning and evening. Eventually, I’ll add lap swimming at the Y.
On The Alley (OTA) is a more casual, sister-venue to Brophy Bros., Santa Barbara’s wildly popular seafood restaurant. Serving fresh fish tacos, burgers and salads, On The Alley dishes up quick, quality lunch fare within the beautiful harbor. Included on the menu are a handful of Brophy Bros. classics like New England Clam Chowder and Fish & Chips. Breakfast is also offered, including Smoothies and customizable Breakfast Bowls. Enjoy the generous portions and wallet-friendly prices. Order online for fast and easy pick-up. Savor it outside at our tables or take your food with you wherever you go! https://www.onthealley.com/
This sign is advertising Stand Up and Paddle under moonlight. I saw the joke when I took this photo. I wish I had read the full sign — I might have signed up for moonlight paddling.
Olive the cat before grooming. Look at all that fur!
Poor Olive! First we left her for four days while we visited friends in Salt Lake City. (We did have a cat sitter check up on her.) Then Monday morning, our first morning home, a mobile cat groomer arrived.
We’ve been dealing with Olive shedding hair all over the house, Olive spitting up hair balls, and looking uncared for.
Maureen the cat groomer arrived with a folding table topped with a rubber mat and a backpack full of various tools. I had confined Olive to a bathroom so I could easily find her. As soon as I opened the door, Olive shot out the door down the hall. I spent the next 10 minutes searching for her. Once I spotted Olive, I had to dive on top of her.
With Olive on the table, Maureen spent the next hour and a half with various cat brushes and combs, pulling out matted knots and Olive’s heavy undercoat. I stood at the table holding onto Olive, while telling her what a good girl she was.
This was the first time in Olive’s 11-year life that she’s been groomed. I try to brush her and she puts up with it for about 30 seconds before taking off.
I asked Maureen about shaving the cat, if that would be better than trying to brush and comb her out. Hubby wanted Olive shaved.
“That’s up to you,” Maureen answered. From her tone, I gathered shaving a cat was not something she was keen on.
“Since this is her first time being groomed, lets keep going with combing,” I said. “I think an electric razor would freak her out.”
In case you didn’t know, Olive is a scaredy cat. I had a friend’s daughter take care of her for three or four years whenever we left town. She said, “I don’t believe you have a cat.” My friend’s daughter never saw her. Except for the food being eaten and the litter box being used, there was no evidence that Olive existed.
The sheers did come out for Olive’s underside. The hair was thick, long and matted. Maureen said she’s never groomed a dog or cat that liked their hair being pulled out of their armpits or tummy.
When a large black trash bag was filled with cat hair and Olive’s polydactyl claws had been trimmed, we were done. Olive immediately leaped off the table and ran down the hall never to be seen again that day.
Olive wearing her lighter summer do.
If you have a dog or cat, do they like being groomed?
I find a lot of happiness and excitement in little things. Our lives are made of small moments strung together and if we spend too much time worrying or focusing on the past or future, we miss the little bits of joy in the present.
Here’s a list of moments that make me truly happy:
Hearing the birds sing early in the morning.
My kids calling just to talk. They aren’t asking for anything and there’s nothing big going on.
Having lunch yesterday with a good friend and spending a few hours catching up with our lives.
Noticing that my husband got his dish off the table, into the sink and miracle of miracles—into the dishwasher.
Watching baby quail in our backyard.
Seeing a bob cat on my outdoor camera.
Olive the cat honoring me with her presence and stretching out for a cat nap while I’m laying on my side. I have to be careful not to move, so she doesn’t fall off.
Sitting in by back yard reading a really good book.
Walking with my husband and marveling at the beauty surrounding us on a weekend morning.
Checking things off my to-do list and feeling productive.
Yesterday on our walk, we saw a huge coyote walking down the wash. He stopped and we stared at each other for a minute. Then he sauntered away. He was too far away for a close photo, thank goodness!
I also captured a bobcat on my outside camera. This guy paid us a visit at 4:30 a.m. and stopped by last week around 10 p.m. one night. (Video below).
I found my favorite photos of wildlife to share:
Javelina on the sidewalk enjoying prickly pears.
Mule deer in the side yard.
Coyote on the wall behind our house on a snowy day.
Outside our bedroom sliding glass door. This bobcat climbed a tree, ate some birds and then napped in this spot.
Below is the Bobcat Video:
The bobcat walks by at about 6 seconds. After he disappears behind the tree, you can stop watching. Sorry, I don’t know how to edit the video from our Cox Camera.
I’m on the App Next Door, and a lot of people are posting wildlife photos. It must be another sign that Spring is in the air. What I don’t like is the rattlesnake photos. One I saw this morning was a rattler on a workbench inside a garage. Yikes!
I love all the wildlife we have around us. I enjoy watching the animals way more than worrying about the homeless guy who moved into our yard and said he bought our house in Palm Springs.
This was the second post ever on my blog. I was looking through old posts and I thought this tale was worth retelling.
Robert’s asthma and allergy appointment — on his first day home from college for his four-week Christmas break — didn’t go well. The doctor said we could get rid of the cat or put Robert up in a hotel for four weeks.
We’ve only had baby Olive for a year. We’re not too attached, but still. She’s a member of our family. We rescued her from a local pet shelter and committed to be her loving family. And she’s Robert’s little sister’s cat. Not mine. I felt before we agreed to give Olive away, we needed to discuss this with little sis. Or, let Olive be an outdoor cat.
I heard that Robert had posted on FB for a new home for Olive. Of course, as his loving mother, I’m filtered from seeing his posts. Grandpa, on the other hand, has full access to Robert’s FB account. He told me about the long and lengthy post about how I love the cat more than my own son. Short and shorter: we needed to get rid of the cat. Several people had said yes to adopt the furry feline. Some even called me!
Am I a terrible mother for not wanting to give away our pretty little kitty, Olive Bear?
Robert said I’m infected with Toxoplasma gondii and I’m in danger of turning into a crazy cat lady. I “googled” the toxo thing. It’s different than cat scratch fever, which can cause chills and a fever. T. gondii is a protein that invades your bloodstream and makes women crazy about cats. Or, it makes men crazy in a wild way. And there’s a link to schizophrenia. It’s why my OB GYN told me not to change the litter box while I was pregnant. However, he said that if I’d been around cats my entire life, most likely I was already infected. Great.
I know about crazy cat ladies. We had one in my home town. She lived in a house filled with felines and feces. Hundreds of cats. My parents drove me to her house out in the country a few miles from town. The home badly needed paint and had broken floorboards with cats leaping in and out of the foundation. We picked an adorable calico kitten named Pansy to bring home. Pansy died a few weeks later from feline pneumonitis.
I never had good luck with cats. I can name the ones we owned when I was young: Ting, Tack, Tenni-runner, No Name, Thomasina I, Thomasina II, Little Leticia, Bianco (white in Italian), Striscia (stripe in Italian), and my favorite, OJ Simpson. (I was a huge OJ fan. Remember, this was decades before I quit being one.)
We lost these cats (in addition to the aforementioned Pansy) by the time I reached first grade, due to an overzealous cat-hater neighbor. He caught them in a wooden trap, dropped them in a gunnysack, then tossed them in the river.
When we moved out into the country I had Soute´ (a French word from ballet that means jump) from second grade through high school. Coyotes and bears were kinder animals to our kitty than our former neighbor in town.
We adopted Sherman years before we had kids. That allergy doctor told me for years to get rid of Sherman. Robert was allergic to lots more things than cats. Things I couldn’t control, like rye grass and trees. Sherman lived from 1992 for 17 years — until a neighbor’s dog jumped a wall and killed him.
I know it’s terrible not to want to get rid of the cat. I never believed that our cat could be harmful to my child. Now, my son is living in beautiful Santa Barbara, going to college. He’s only home for visits. Or maybe it is the toxoplasmosis that let’s me rationalize all this.
Olive letting her temper show. Once my daughter left for college, Olive became mine. We found a solution to the allergy problem called an air purifier for our son’s room.
Looking back, was I bad mom for wanting to keep the Olive the cat?
What is the topic of your second post on your blog?
A photo of my daughter’s pug who was used in social media marketing for her college swim team. The swimmers on the sports marketing team posed Waffles around the pool wearing goggles, on the blocks and lifeguard stand.
As I think about Thanksgiving, it dawned on me that our last two pets, Olive and Waffles, were adopted Thanksgiving weekend. What a joy they’ve brought to our family.
My son left for college in 2011 and my daughter and I visited the animal shelter in Palm Springs looking at kittens. It was right before Thanksgiving that Olive came home with us. Because my son is allergic to cats we waited until he moved away to college to adopt Olive. We kept Olive hidden in our daughter’s bedroom for the four-day weekend and didn’t think my son would have any reaction from his room down the hall.
Olive’s baby picture taken around Thanksgiving.
Everything went smoothly. I cooked dinner for my kids, husband and dad. I remember a wonderful weekend spending time with family walking downtown and playing in the park.
Then my son called to let me know he was back at school safely. While we talked on the phone, the kitty snuck out the door into the backyard.
“Quick, get the kitty!” I yelled to my daughter.
“WHAT?!” my son said. “I knew it! I knew there was a cat in the house. I had allergies all weekend.”
Today, he can visit our home in Arizona with Olive inside, and doesn’t seem to suffer. I’ve installed an air filter in the casita and the new house doesn’t have the same issues as our 1930s Palm Springs house did for allergies like mold and a grassy back yard.
Then came Waffles. It was my husband’s idea to adopt Waffles as a companion dog for our daughter. She came home from college for Thanksgiving weekend, along with our son, and met Waffles for the first time.
My kids and Waffles
I cooked for our family, my college roommate, who was visiting from Seattle with her mom and brother. Plus a former coworker of mine — and dad of course. Waffles was a hit with everyone — except Olive. I remember my college roommate’s brother thanking me over and over for a home-cooked Thanksgiving. They had planned to eat in their hotel restaurant.
Waffles was beyond cute and so tiny!
Pretty kitty Olive as a grown up.
Waffles as a middle-aged man, snaggle teeth and gray hairs.
Have a happy Thanksgiving with family, friends and your furry friends.
What is it about Thanksgiving and adopting our pets? I’m thinking our prior two, Sherman and Angus joined us in the fall as well.
