Photo of the day: The Explorer

This is the adventurer of the litter. The one who wanted to know what was over ever edge, behind every obstacle. While hher littermates where content to be fed and have a nice play, this girl wanted nothing more than to explore. She walked the length of the table, climbed up shoulders and stood on heads, she even jumped onto the counter and tried to make a dash for the door. Luckily we're bigger than she.

Photo of the day: That's How it Goes

Yup, story of the kitten nursery. We do all the work. They get all the naps.

Dress Appropriately And Don't Drop the Cat on Its Head

I had a new experience today. I helped train a new cat volunteer.

Usually new cat volunteers are trained by the staff in our behavior department. But for a variety of reasons they asked if I would step in today to give a show a new TLCer the ropes. It was harder than I thought.

There are so many common sense rules that I forget are actually rules that I had to force myself to recite to her. For instance, you shouldn't have to be told (let alone twice) that if there are two cats in a cage and you are only taking one cat out, you need to close the door after your first cat is out or else the other one will escape. No. Really. It will. Close the door. Yes, that's it.

And hold the cat like you've held a cat before. This woman has three of her own and yet when she plucked first kitty out of her cage she seemed to have no idea how to pick it up or hold it. A showed her, but you'd think she'd have had some experience with her own animals.

But for the most part, it went well. I think I covered all of the rules (dress code, where we keep supplies, how to log in and out, how to deal with vet issues, etc.) and she seemed to enjoy the process. I did too, but I'll stick with hanging with the cats....far more fun.

It's just weird how often I find myself shaking my head at the utter lack of common sense some people seem to possess. Things that you can't imagine ever having to be explained have to be spelled out in detail. In the nursery, for instance, I have to keep reminding the Monday crew that you have to wear gloves when handling the kittens, and you have to change gloves between litters. This is rule #1. And yet every week I see them reaching, gloveless, for a cat and have to remind them. Then I see them not changing gloves and moving on to the next litter and having to ask "have you changed gloves?" This should not need to happen more than once. It's hardly like we're overloaded with rules in the nursery, and yet this basic procedure seems to be a hard concept to grasp.

The other thing I've noticed lately is how few people notice how their actions affect others. The best place to witness this is in the grocery store. How often have you seen someone stop their cart in the middle of the aisle and stand there, blocking the way when someone is obviously trying to pass them. It's no more trouble to pull your cart to the side so people can pass but no, they stop in the exact center so there's no going around. Or they'll pause at the end of the aisle, blocking the way in, and you have to politely wait while they pour over the complete ingredient list for bread. Drives me crazy.

Is common sense a dying trait? Or do people just not think anymore? I always think about what I do and how it might get in the way of others. I'm not saying I'm exceptionally considerate, but I do want to minimize my impact on others. It seems like pulling my shopping cart out of the way is an easy thing to do. And basic things like "gee, if there are a whole bunch of kittens in this cage and I only want one I should keep the door closed" really shouldn't take much thought. Sadly, it does.

In other news, were going out to Dim Sum this weekend with friends. Have you ever had the pleasure?

For those unfamiliar, Dim Sum is a type of Chinese food where small portions are served from carts that go around the restaurant. You don't order from a menu. They just wheel things by and ask if you want some. One of the best Dim Sum places in the entire SF Bay Area is within walking distance of our house, and yet Husband has never been. We're really looking forward to it. It's a great experience to go with lots of people because you end up with plates all over the table and find yourself tasting things you can't believe you just ate. Chicken feet? Sure, why not? I mean when else am I going to get the chance to eat chicken feet? And the wonderful thing about Dim Sum is that these small tasting plates mean you don't end up with an entire order of something you hate. You eat one, your friends each eat one and you've had the experience. Then it's on to the next cart and the next bit of mystery. Plus these are some of my favorite people ever, so there will be much laughter and good comradeship. I can't wait.

Seven Years...No Itch

Today marks seven years since Husband and I tied the knot at Ye Olde Wedding(e) Chapel in Lake Tahoe. We'd been together for three and, unlike most couples, it was the man that wanted to marry and the woman that had cold feet. But we were going up anyway and some friends were teasing that we were planning to come back married. We weren't...until they suggested it. So on Friday we decided to get married and on Sunday we did.

We had two guests, our witnesses and dear friends the Foreigner and the DJ. The Foreigner, who is a beautiful and stylish woman, will never forgive me for not telling her that she was going to be in our wedding. She was mortified to have worn jeans to the event. I tried to comfort her by the fact that the bride was wearing jeans, but the Foreigner remained appalled. She still does.

The chapel where we married was right off Highway 50, in the heart of South Lake Tahoe. Highly unromantic. We had our choice of indoor (which featured dark panelling and fake flowers and looked like a funeral parlor) or outside, with the traffic noise and the veritable zoo of plastic animals. We chose outside. Our one and only wedding picture shows us standing under the pine trees, a large plastic deer looking over our shoulders. It's priceless.

We then had the requisite post-wedding margaritas at a Mexican bar and went hiking. Our friends went home, we went to Safeway and bought an ugly sheet cake...because you gotta have cake at a wedding. Then we danced to "our" song ("A Kiss to Build a Dream On," the Louis Armstrong version). And we went to bed. Whereupon the night became a scene out of a Marx Brothers movie as both Husband and I spent what seemed like the entire night trying to get Ninja Fly From Hell to leave us alone. We threw pillows at it. We chased it with rolled up magazines. We tried to spay it with hair spray (hey, it was all we could find at the cabin) and eventually I think it just died of boredom.

Who says romance is dead?

Thanks for a great seven years, Husband. Here's to 70 more.

My New Favorite Website
A parade of cute baby animals courtesy of Zoo Borns. Prepare to squeal.

Photo of the day: Feed Us. Now!

If we aren't careful about binder-clipping the cages closed, the nursery kittens have been known to make a break out. This little Houdini and his brother want to be fed right now, thank you very much.

Cool vs. Crotch
Here's today's random rant...

Husband and I tried to watch the Tony Awards tonight. We gave up. Well, I did, anyway, when Catherine Zeta-Jones channelled Nora Desmond while singing "Send in the Clowns." I hate that song, even when it's sung well. When it's sung badly, it defies the Geneva Convention.

Anyway, for reasons I cannot fathom...the band Green Day was part of the opening number. And it made me wonder out loud something that has puzzled me for years.

Why is it jazz bass players look perfectly hip playing their bass while holding it in a normal position while rock musicians think they have to sling it down over their crotch in order to be cool? In reality, they look ridiculous. This Green Day guy....his bass was so low it was actually hitting his knee. It was slung at the absolute limit of his reach and it was so silly looking that I just started laughing. I mean nothing against masturbation, but if that's what you want to be doing -- please don't sling an instrument over your penis and pretend to be playing music, OK?

Photo of the day: Meerkat

One of the most seriously cute animals ever invented.

Scenes from Silver Creek: Sister Cities

When it comes to historical importance, Silver Creek has none. We couldn’t even borrow any glory.

For a while in the 70s and 80s it was a big thing to become a sister city with someplace distant and/or impressive. Santa Pura, which is just to the south of Silver Creek, is sister city with some ancient village in China. In their central park they have a red pagoda as a sort of gazebo. It’s painted with fierce gold dragons and fat chrysanthemum blooms. Rather lovely, really, especially in the spring when the area around it is rich with irises and tulips.

To the north we have Lombards, which has as its sister city a distinguished Flemish town with an unpronounceable name. To show its fondness, the village gave to the town a gorgeous suit of armor worn by some medieval soldier with a truly historic codpiece. The armor is a marvelous piece of workmanship with bronzed vines and a truly panic-inducing helmet with tiny eye slits. There’s even a shield with a strutting red rooster prancing on a field of blue and white chevrons. The armor has pride of place in Lombards library and is actually something of a tourist attraction, being one of the finest pieces of Flemish armory in the U.S.

And then there’s Silver Creek and its sister city…Hoboken, New Jersey. God help us. Yup, that’s the best we could do. The gift from our sister city? A framed black and white photograph of three members of the Hoboken City Council shaking hands with three members of the Silver Creek City Council. Two of the three New Jerseyians later disappeared under mysterious circumstances and one was associated with that grim phrase, “dental records.”

We also had an autographed photo of Frank Sinatra inscribed “to the Hoboken of California.” God, what a phrase! An we had Sinatra’s movie camera. Or at least what purported to be. We knew because there was a blue and white Dyno label with “Sinatra” on it. There was no film, just an old Super 8 camera and case with his name. I always loved the label….like if he didn’t put his name on it, Joey Bishop would steal it without permission.

Hoboken…we couldn’t do better than Hoboken?

The only even vaguely historical item we had in town was three old bells that hung in an 8-foot high mock church steeple. The bells were said to commemorate Father Junipero Serra’s journey to bring smallpox and Catholicism to the pagans.

With typical modern scorn for anything worthwhile, this fake steeple, ended up in the parking lot of the Silver Creek McDonald’s. The McDonald’s people got tired of drunken kids trying to ring the bells, so they put a chain link fence around it, which looked incredibly hideous. So they asked the city to move it to the park.

And, in the half mile between McDonald’s and the park, the bells disappeared. That pretty much sums up Silver Creek. It’s the kind of place where three 100 lb bells can vanish in an afternoon and nobody thinks to notice until a year later when someone actually asks in a City Council meeting “hey, whatever happened to those bells?”

Scenes from Silver Creek: Rufus and Mr. Goldman

Rumor had it Rufus was part bear, part German shepherd. His actual parentage was a mystery known only to god. Equally mysterious was where he came from. He showed up as a huge puppy one day, sleeping on the steps of city hall. When someone tried to pick him up, he gleefully decided it was a huge game and ran away, disappearing for a few days and then showing up again in the park.

From then on, he belonged to the town and the town belonged to him.

Everybody loved Rufus, even dog-haters, and he happily lived wherever he wanted. Any open door was an invitation and it wasn’t uncommon to look up and see him walking into your house. Half the businesses in town had bowls of water or food either on the sidewalk or just inside the door.

Rufus would frequently adopt people or businesses for a while. He’d decide to live at one house for a few weeks and then suddenly his gypsy would kick in and he’d be off somewhere else.

The Silver Creek Police Department, oddly enough, seemed to be his unofficial home. They set up a doghouse in the garage and that was his default shelter on rainy nights or when he decided he’d like to rough it rather than sleep on someone’s sofa. It always amused me that the never took him to the shelter or tried to reign him in. They let him come and go like the rest of the town. And occasionally they took him for a ride. The most un-K9 cop of them all. He’d sit in the passenger seat, head out the window, tongue hanging out, barking joyfully.

Rufus remained the town dog for about three years when he adopted Mr. Goldman.

Mr. Goldman was a locksmith who lived next door to my best friend, Sean. Rufus lived with Sean’s family for a week and then wandered out the door and into Mr. Goldman’s house. Like most of the city Mr. G welcomed Rufus with a fond scratch on the head and some leftover meatloaf. It must have been some great meatloaf, because Rufus never left.

All of Silver Creek, including Mr. G, expected Rufus to decamp after a week or so, but it never happened. Every time Mr. G let Rufus out he’d think it would be to move on, and yet Rufus stayed. And stayed.

After three months, Mr. G bought a collar.

After six months, Mr. G got Rufus a license.

It still wasn’t uncommon to see Rufus trotting down the street as though he owned it. But now it was in tandem with Mr. G.

And Rufus never left. He stayed with Mr. Goldman for the rest of his 12 years and when he died, the whole town held a memorial for the brown shaggy dog that everyone loved.

There’s still a plaque with a photo of Rufus on the wall of the Silver Creek Police Department.

Photo of the day; The Newcomers

Just brought into the shelter yesterday and still trying to figure out how things work. But kittens are very resilient. After an hour or so of coaxing and cuddling these two and their their siblings were happily being fed and having a good play. Extra cute, these guys. They'll find homes fast.

Photo of the day: Depository

Just put all your money here. Please.

Photo of the day : The orange twins

They had a bit of a rough start and aren;t out of the word yet. Some diahhrea and an eye imfection. But they're they're coming along, eating lots and playing some. I think we're going to make it.

Photo of the day What Husband is Doing In Pilly
Go Flyers!!!!!

Useless...
Useless. That pretty much describes the Monday lunch shift at the kitten nursery.

Now I don't want to insult the people who are kind enough to give their time to help these little kittens get a start in life, but oh my god these people are dumb. And hey, being a bitch is part of my charm.

Suspect #1. She's been with us since the beginning. And every shift she asks the most basic questions. "Where do we keep the litter?" Um...in that big bin labeled "cat litter." You know....where it has been kept since we opened. She cannot seem to recall from week-to-week where we keep things, what the procedure is, and in what order we do our jobs. She has the common sense of a gnat on Crack. She'll take kittens out of random kennels and put them back in the wrong places. (We work on one kennel at a time.) She got lost going to the sink (you have to leave the nursery and go down the hall to the first door on the right.) She'll just look at her watch and leave. No goodbye, just up and leave. Doesn't matter that we're not done. Apparently her busy life is more important.

Suspect #2 and Suspect #3. Started yesterday. A mother-son duo who are so dribbling useless as to actually cause extra work.

#2 is the son. 13-years old, and the shiest kid I've ever met. I have total sympathy for him. It's not easy to be 13 with a squeaky voice and no self-confidence. And you're thrown into a new situation. But hey....here's a tip. When you're thrown into a new situation and someone is trying to teach you the ropes (that would be me) LISTENING IS GOOD. This kid was looking around the room and seemed to be paying no attention to anything I said. A suspicion born out by the fact that, after I was done, he had no idea what to do.

This would not be surprising, but mom insisted that volunteering at the nursery was his idea! Really? Than grab a damned kitten you useless thruck. I think he's afraid of hurting the kittens, to the point where he's just afraid to touch them at all. I showed him how it was done. I showed him no fewer than nine times. You have to be a bit insistent with kittens, they're not just going to sit there all cooperative with their mouths open. You have to grab them by the scruff of their neck, sort of pull their heads back, put the syringe in from above and, with the softest of pressure, push the food into their mouths. They will try to get away. They will squirm. They will make "I am being tortured" noises. You must have no mercy. You are aided in this ruthlessness by the fact that you are bigger than they and you will always win.

Unless you are Suspect #2 in which case the kitten will blink and you will instantly let go, let it run to the other side of the table, and you will make no attempt to retrieve it. When told to try again he will make a vague movement in the direction of the kitten and whisper (in a voice so soft that his nose probably couldn't hear it) "come here kitten." The shift leader, swallowing both swears and a laugh, will gently explain that kittens don't do the whole "come here" thing and he must reach out and pick it up. And he will reach out with his hand hovering about six inches away, and seem terrified about getting any closer.

This kid was there for two and a half hours and did not successfully feed a single cat.

Mom (Suspect #3) was no help at all. You'd think with a total stranger (me) trying and obviously failing to instruct her kid in the fine art of kitten care she might pitch in now and then with advice, help, even motherly encouragement. You'd think wrong. Mom said nothing. She, too, was being instructed and apparently she learned one lesson that I don't recall teaching. And that lessons is; take an entire hour to feed one kitten 12 ccs of food.

Yup. One kitten. One hour. In the time it took the two of them to either feed or be completely intimidated by one kitten, I single-handedly feed 6 kittens, cleaned 2 cages, restocked our towels, took out the trash, did the dishes, and consulted with a vet tech one one cat with an eye infection. And still they sat, the two of them, useless.

I've tried patience. I've tried explaining. But the bottom line is that my shift is populated by idiots that make my job so much harder. I can't trust them to do anything without me watching them like a hawk. They pay no attention to our safety rules and would happily mix up kittens from different litters without me stopping them. (This happened four times yesterday.) I've showed everyone where to get towels and supplies and when I ask them to get some, they ask me to show them again. I'll ask them to clean the scales between weighing litters, and they'll use hand sanitizer rather than the spray that I've showed them how to use.

It would actually be faster for me to do the entire shift alone than to be saddled with theses losers.

Photo of the day: Mighty Mike

So named for the distinct "M" on his forehead. He's a cutie.

Photo of the day: Yes, These Roses Really Are This Color

And they are loving the sunshine as much as I. No rain in our forecast. Woo hoo!

Photo of the day: Headlights

My neighbor's muscle car. When he starts it up, our windows rattle and Cipher gets spooked.

Photo of the day: Coinage

There is something so cheerful about new pennies, isn't there?

The Good and the Bad
Today I came home from kitten duty in a raring good mood. Exhausted. Covered in kitten food. Starving. But so happy that I spend my day helping abandoned kittens get strong until they can find their forever homes.

I pull into the garage and grab the mail, and instantly my mood plummets. Not just sours....it drops about 50 points on the 1-100 scale. I got a jury duty summons, a car registration renewal, and a $3000 hospital bill. In the immortal words of Husband "oy and vey." Yes, oy and vey indeed.

It's amazing how quickly a few pieces of mail can change a day, isn't it? OK, the car registration is not so bad. But jury duty, which I realize is an obligation of citizenship, is a pain in the ass. And the $3000 bill came from out of the blue. I went into the ER in January with a 3-day migraine and they kept me in for 48-hours because I was dehydrated and that affected my heart rate. Thankfully we have health insurance, which took care of the majority of the exorbitant bill....but it was months ago and I hadn't heard anything from the hospital so I thought we were OK. No, we aren't. We owe $3300 -- a huge expenditure we weren't counting on. Sigh...

Mood are funny things. Sometimes you'll get the blues for no reason at all. Sometimes you'll wake up in a gorgeous mood and have no idea why. And then there are little things that turn around a mood. A random phone call from an old friend can take the worst day and make it spectacular. And I can be running around singing a favorite tune and then hear some bad news and suddenly that favorite tune goes out of the mind.

Of course when the random things don't happen, you can always take steps to turn your mood around. For me, it's music. Music is unbeatable when it comes to either enhancing or altering a mood. There are some songs that I find it impossible to be sad to. Put them on, crank them up, and I'm dancing -- regardless of whatever trouble it is that I'm trying to forget. A glass of wine. A hot bath. A long walk by the bay or up in the foothills. And old favorite movie, a bowl of popcorn, and me and Husband snuggling on the sofa. Indulging in some chocolate or ice cream. Putting in extra time with the cats.

So the remedy for the jury duty/registration/hospital bill triumvirate of gloom? Bread and cheese. Stephen Fry cracking me up with clips from his show QI on youtube. And just now, some shortbread cookies. Yes, I'm indulging in nutritional mood enhancers but, you know what, I don't care. I feel better now.