About Me


It’s been two weeks since we brought our cat home from the vet after her back leg was amputated.

The stitches are out and the cone is off, but she has to stay in the kennel for another two weeks because of her broken front leg. I’ve also used up all of the medications that she was prescribed, with the one exception being the pain killer. I’ve gotten pretty good at shoving pills down the cat’s throat without her spitting them out, but it’s a relief to not have to do that anymore.

I moved the cat out of the laundry room and into the living room, because she seemed like she was getting lonely. The two-year-old is being more respectful of the kennel than I had expected, which was a pleasant surprise, and I’ve been recruiting the older children to sit with the cat.

One of the vets at the emergency clinic had recommended that we use newspaper pellets litter, but when I looked it up, I said “no way” to the price — I’m too stingy. So, the kids and I put a bunch of newspaper through a shredder, and lo and behold, I like it better than cat litter. It doesn’t scatter everywhere, and clean up is as easy as sending a kid outside to dump the whole thing in the compost pile once a day. Who knew? I’m totally converting, lol.

I’m not feeling terribly secure about the upcoming dark months. Not in regards to the cat, but rather more of a “by the pricking of my thumb,” sort of way. What happened to her feels like a portend.

I am very grateful that the cat is healing so well.

About Me

Spirit Animal

I didn’t grow up in a supportive environment, and one of the things that I caught a lot of flak over was cats. Back then, pets were still only pets, and no one understood why I was so driven to befriend and care for cats. I’ve been called a “crazy cat lady” since childhood.

The other day, our now-three-legged cat accidentally made a mess on herself, since balancing is hard with her broken front leg (at the moment, she only has two usable limbs), so I took off her cone to let her go to work grooming while I gently dabbed at the smearing around her stitches with a warm washcloth. And, unbidden, one of those negative voices sprang into my head with, “Why would you spend that much money on a cat just to clean shit off of it?”

I’m not a “pet parent,” and this animal isn’t my “fur baby.” Heaven knows I’ve given birth to enough babies to quench any desires in that area, so that’s not my motivation at all.

Cats are my spirit animal — my familiars — and I’m bound by a geas.

It’s the sort of thing where I go outside and cats appear. My husband and I have had strange cats follow us around the neighborhood on our evening walks — alongside our own cats. They’re always nearby.

I can’t turn my back on a cat that dragged herself through all that pain to ask for our help, even when that means carefully cleaning up poop with a washcloth as she recovers. Besides, I’m not so self-absorbed that I resent every second spent caring for another creature; I quite enjoy being the nurturer.

I’m grateful to be married to someone who understands.

About Me


We ended up deciding to transfer our cat over to our regular vet for some extra care, so she didn’t come home until today.

She’s eating well, but with the broken front leg and the cone around her head, I’ve been helping with holding the food up so she can reach it more easily (I can’t figure out how to get the cone off for her to eat, and I’m scared to handle her at this point).

The kids are being really well behaved about all this. I’ve told them that they can keep her company sitting by the kennel, but they have to stay quiet and not touch her, and so far they’ve been perfectly obedient about it. Of course, she’s a pretty pathetic sight at the moment, and they’re probably just as scared of accidentally hurting her as I am.


At this point, all that’s left to do is to keep an eye on our cat and keep up with her medications.

Probably time to catch up on some sleep.

About Me


Our cat, the one who’s fur I spun into yarn for fun, disappeared for a couple of days, then showed up yesterday badly injured.

I took one look at the cat’s back leg and honestly told the children that the she was probably going to lose it. My husband rushed her to the emergency clinic, where they put her on painkillers and IV fluids, and an examination of the wound revealed that it was not only badly infected, but had maggots in it as well. Yuck! Her blood work showed that we found her in the nick of time, because the infection was on the verge of going systemic and turning into blood poisoning.

Sure enough, her back leg was amputated during the night.

Her front leg is also broken, and she has deep bruising all over. My husband asked the clinic what they thought could have caused all these injuries, but they couldn’t say for certain. It could have been a car, or she could have gotten caught on a fence and fallen.

She isn’t home yet — we’re waiting on a consult with an orthopedic specialist for what to do about her front leg (whether a splint is going to be sufficient for her bones to heal, or if she’s going to need pins inserted). I’m hoping to have her back this afternoon or evening.

I feel awful when I think about how much agony she was in while she was dragging her broken body back home, especially because it took a couple of days.

But if she had wanted to die, she would have laid down in the bushes and died. She wants to live. Besides, this is our cuddle kitty who’s all heart and no brain — we have to do what we can to take care of her.

I’m going to get a kennel set up for her in the laundry room, with puppy pads because the vet said that she won’t be able to use a litter box for awhile. She’s going to need medicine, and to have her bandages changed regularly as well. However, the vet has assured us that cats handle amputations very well, and that there’s a good chance she’ll return to full mobility once she’s healed — but she does need to stay indoors from now on.

For those who are following my blog, you’ll know that this is coming on top of our 15-year-old cat getting treated for an abscess after fighting with a stray.

So, kind of feeling a touch cursed right now.

About Me

Giving Thanks

The depressing part is, this isn’t the first time my husband and I have tackled making a full-blown Thanksgiving dinner on our own. Heck, we’ve even got it down to an art, too. So, the number one thing that I’m most grateful for is that we have each other and our children.

Pro tip: Make dessert first, a day or two ahead of time. Keep a straw broom handy to chase the children away.


We’re fostering a kitten, and while I was putting the frozen groceries away, he jumped into the freezer without my noticing and was consequently shut inside. I’m thankful that I heard him yowling while I was putting away the milk, and rescued him quickly — otherwise we would have been in for a very miserable surprise.

Now I get to be super paranoid about the kitten jumping into other appliances.


Some people I don’t care for have sold their house and are moving out this week … Shh, don’t tell anyone I said that.