To Pet or Not To Pet

The kids have been pestering us for the last few years to get a pet. 

Pets are great for kids in theory. I grew up with pets myself: dogs, cats, a few short-term fish. But we lived in the country and our dogs and cats were outdoor dwellers mostly. They had barns for shelter and acres to roam. Growing up with them fostered empathy, maternal instincts, consideration for other beings and provided companionship/friendship when human beings were disappointing--and in adolescence/teenhood, people are plenty disappointing. So yes, I totally want this nurturing, instructive and commonly shared experience for my children. 

When Ken and I were first married, he brought Oliver the Tuxedo Cat into our new family unit. He (Oliver) certainly wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed but was so regal and handsome. An added bonus is that he'd already been house-trained and was just the right amount of effort for two working professionals with no kids or other major distractions. 

Oliver surprised us when Sid came along in how gentle and interested he was in the new baby. He acted as a good 'fur brother' to Sid and it delighted me that she had him around for her first three years. 

One month after Cal was born though, Oliver died from what the vet surmised was a blood clot and stroke. He was twelve. Sad, yes. But in all honesty, Oliver received so little attention at that point with a toddler and a newborn in the house, I didn't even have one more ounce of energy to give. Alas he did live his best life up to that point watching the birds & squirrels and staring vacantly into the middle distance just like good British period drama actors do.  

******

The kids have come through to school-age now alive, well and semi-independent.  We have a few more cycles of energy to spare and between you and me, I wouldn't mind having another cat... someday. 

BUT.

The kids really want a dog. 

I'm like:

People, I've handled my lifetime share of poop. I simply shudder at the thought of a creature who will ALWAYS require poop handling. I am just now finally NOT having to manage other people's excrement anymore and after eight years of that shiz (literally), I'm done. Also I can't live in close quarters with another clingy, mess-making, possibly furniture-destroying creature. I've already got two of those. And let's be REAL honest here, even if the kids swear they will take care of *everything* who really ends up taking care of the pets and tracking all of their nonsense? 

(Imagine there is a mirror here)

At our current neighborhood home in Seattle, we have a lot less room, a busy road directly to the north of the house and a more hectic lifestyle than we did in rural Ridgefield. I know many of our neighbors manage having dogs but that's not the point. 

But since we're easing our way back into the pet game, someone suggested fish. I'm a little bit familiar with fish. I had two when I was about 10 years old and managed to keep them alive for some months in a glass bowl filled with pink rocks and a bubbling treasure chest. How hard could this be?

Mind you, this is supposed to be for the kids to do and take responsibility for. Ever since late last year, Sid (and Cal to some extent) have been insisting that they will take care of and pay for getting a fish tank.  

But have you heard of the Nitrogen cycle or New Tank Syndrome before? Hmm, me neither. 

Evidently there is a biological freshwater ecosystem that has to be established over the span of 30 days for tank survival involving the 'circle of freshwater aquatic life' including ammonia, nitrite, nitrate, algae, $20 worth of water additives, an aquarium heater, water test strips and, absolutely under no circumstances, putting any more than a pinch of food in the tank every other day. This is just for the water to be correct--you also need a tank, decor and of course fish with the WILL to survive.

Behold the five gallon tank of destiny, artfully decorated to make sure our White Cloud Tetras love it. 

For those keeping track, we got three fish initially after 24 hours of conditioning (demineralizing) and stabilized the temperature of the tank (76 degrees) but you know what we didn't do? There was no helpful bacteria in the tank to kick off the aforementioned nitrogen cycle so the fish looked sickly within hours of swimming around. 

About 5 hours later we had our first casualty. [RIP Fish #1.] The other two also looked bad so I assumed they would soon join their comrade in the fish afterlife or void of nothingness. [Are fish Atheist?] 

In the midst of explaining this early loss to the children who were concerned and wondering if all the fish were doomed, we went back to PetCo. This time we picked up some SafeStart Bacteria juice that would get the aquarium well on it's way into the Nitrogen cycle and give the fish a more familiar environment to the one at the store tank. 

WHY ISN'T THIS STANDARD ISSUE WITH A NEW TANK?

I also picked up two more fish since I ASSUMED the other two would be dead by the time we got home. We had left them resting on the rocks after all, losing color and barely moving.

And yet, we came home and they were still hanging on. I added the above SafeStart Bacteria juice (1/2 the bottle) because the directions are worthless and the Internet says you can't oversaturate this bacteria so 'just go for it'. Within a few hours the two old fish and the two new fish were perky as ever, darting around in the mid-tank areas. The water has been a little cloudy but not too bad. 

Today, three of the fish are like a mean girl clique swimming around and judging everything and the other one is always hiding in the corner writing comicbook movie fanfic or plotting revenge. Hard to say which.

The last 48 hours of my life have largely been spent worrying about this blasted aquarium that I did not ask for and the detailed knowledge of the Nitrogen cycle has supplanted fun memories of my early 20's that I will never get back. 

So we're going to get the tank through the 30 day cycle, I'm going to set up a feeding and cleaning schedule and then we shall see how the children rise to the occasion or not. 

Until then I'll be like, "Hey fish..."

In Loving Memory: Oliver Moore 2000-2012

Today we lost our furry family member. He was a sweet cat who terrorized house guests but always played nice with the children. We shall miss his vacant, disdainful stares and his regal presence.

In other poop news: the cat

Poop is the big topic around the house these days.  And why should it stop with our daughter when there is another creature who is notable for his waste.  Our cat, Oliver, has been having the driest poops I've ever seen.  It's like they crumble into dust.  There is no moisture whatsoever contained in them.  Given that his preferred water source is the toilet, despite having a nice, new metal water dish, I just shake my head and leave the toilet seat up.  But that should give you an idea that we're not dealing with a rational animal.  Anyway his poop is weird and he needed a well-pet check up so I took him in to the vet earlier this week.

He's 11 years old and back in the day he was known to be FEISTY at the vet.  Like don't go near this animal, you will lose a digit.  Oliver has mellowed in his old age and I do wonder if the energy it takes to fend off an amorous toddler on a daily basis zaps what he'd normally reserve for a vet visit.  He was "chill" initially and even during the vet's physical exam.  She felt his gut and said he was constipated.  She also said sometimes older animals have problems with their anal glands which do something (she explained but I forgot) toward the end of the digestive journey.  Sometimes these glands get clogged and have to be "expressed" or "massaged" or "dealt with" to keep things flowing.

As soon as the vet said "anal glands" and "massaged", I though, 'F-no, I am not dealing with that.  There is enough disgusting bodily fluid and excrement around here...'  I knew about this condition due to some posts my girl Dooce wrote about her dog and they were not fun.  Luckily, the vet staff said they would handle it but for an additional fee.  Whatever--it's well worth it.  They took him away and were going to do this very joyous procedure in another room where I assume there was a sink and they could secure his claws of fury.  Sidney and I waited in the exam room.  A few minutes go by and then loud, unhappy meows bellow down the hall.  Oh man.  But it had to be done.  Then the vet came back in the room after 5-10 minutes and said they now felt he really needed an enema too.

"And you guys are going to do it, right?" I asked.
"Oh yes, right now," she said.
"Well, he's already angry at the world..." I said.

Poor cat.

We were told to come back an hour later after they had done the procedure and cleaned him up.  Evidently he "produced" quite a bit and he was in the most foul mood imaginable.  They warned me not to uncage him near Sidney that evening.  So we gave him a lot of space once we got home but not too long after he was back to normal.

Now he seems like a happier cat these past few days.  They suggested we try to give him some wet food with pumpkin, which helps digestion.  Problem is, this cat is pickier than his mistress and his toddler-sister.  I have 5 different brands of fancy, gluten free, organic cat food with one of the ingredients being pumpkin.  I'm on the 3rd one to see if he'll even take a bite of it.  He doesn't know how lucky he is...the little toilet taster.

Suitcase Lounging with Oliver

After returning from California last week, we unloaded our suitcases of dirty clothes in the laundry room (which is also Oliver's lair.)  He made the most of the open suitcase by making it his own.  For some reason that cat has always liked being on top of and inside suitcases.  I love the contrasty colors and he looks regal (as well as a bit dim).  Regardless, we love our little fuzzy prince.

Fresh Bowl

I wish I could say he went to a raging frat party last night and this is the morning after. But no. He just likes to drink out of the toilet.




Does he kiss his mommy with that mouth? Absolutely he does NOT.

Oliver is trying to give us a hint

My Two Babies

(Originally posted on Sidney's Page)

Prior to Sidney's arrival, Ken and I already had a ravenous, excreting, 11-pound bundle of joy named Oliver. Anyone who's been here can tell you he's a little bit off. Not mean or spasmodic but sort of compulsive and distant. He has dealt with the new addition to the family by eating alot and acting slightly more friendly to us & visitors since he gets so little interaction from us now. But he never was a very affectionate cat to be begin with so it's hard to know how much his life has really changed.



He usually regards Sidney as a strange, noisy object to be avoided or ignored.



He's only sitting here because I am dangling the end of my robe tie for him to play with.



It doesn't appear that Sidney really knows what to think of Oliver but one day that tail is going to be quite grab-worthy.

Oliver in the New Year

Oliver is trying to be helpful. Here he is helping me put the Christmas Ornaments away. Good kitty.

Oliver and the Magic Flute

Ken noticed on previous occasions that Oliver responds to the sound of the flute. A few nights ago, here was the scene in our kitchen:



If you follow this blog or know Oliver personally, you also know that he can be aloof, uninterested and sometimes confused. But the flute seems to bring out the best in him. Even replaying this YouTube video in his presence gets his full attention. Ah, the mysteries of the animal kingdom.

CSI Ballard -- Cat Pee Investigations, Part Deux

Nothing to see really more than last time, but that little s**t has been busy upstairs as well. Many a guest who has been at our house in the last two weeks has witnessed me stop in mid-sentence like a crazy person and ask if they smell cat pee. Well the black light doesn't lie and Oliver has been in our bedroom (the one room off limits to him) and has marked up the closet doors. Boggles the mind. All this after we went to Petco tonight and bought him special treats. The irony--it kills me.

CSI Ballard -- Cat Pee Investigations Unit

You don't know true pet-owning joy until you are crawling around on your hands and knees in the basement in the dark sporting a blacklight and a sponge.



What I used to get the stain/smell out is any one of a number of enzyme-based cleaners that remove all traces of the pet urine and leave behind a "fresh" scent. As an added precaution, I also doused the areas he marked with a citrus spray because cats hate citrus.

Tune in next time to see if Oliver gets the message or if I've kicked off a pissing contest in the basement. Yeah!

The Fall

Last Wednesday, I saw a pretty cool indie movie with the Sarah & Mika called The Fall. It's unbelievably opulent. Done by the same director who did The Cell with Jennifer Lopez--you know, back when she acted--it's richly colored and textured with engaging characters and haunting music. Truly, a spectacle to behold. The story is pretty good, I think they could have simplified things a bit and cut 20-30 minutes out of the film but I do recommend it. Inspired by an image in the movie, I tried to recreate it at home... Ah well.

Another Open Letter to our cat, Oliver

Dear Oliver, This would be easier to take if you didn’t have (a) every toy on the planet or (b) an automated feeder that dispenses pricy organic cat food or (c) unsolicited showerings of love & attention from your parents. So imagine our surprise, when the neighbor casually mentioned that you have been going into her house through her cat door every day for three years and scarfing down all the food she puts out for her TWO cats. Upon learning this awful and embarrassing truth, I immediately rushed out and bought a 20-pound bag of her preferred cat food. But it was still unclear how to allow you outside access yet keep you from going next door. Your father, the creative genius and amateur thespian, decided to inflict a “scare” upon you with the help of the neighbor. He figured that if you associated going over there with something unpleasant, you would stop doing it. So he dressed up in some Halloween costume odds & ends, put a plastic bag over his head (I think he cut some holes for air) and put some plastic diving flippers on his hands. Little did you know that when I released you outside and you B-lined into her kitchen, he was waiting for you. The surprise of the ruckus and hollering should have convinced you never to step foot in that house again. But… you were relentless. Extreme measures therefore had to be enforced and for the first time since we’ve lived here, you became exclusively an “inside cat.” Oh, how you made us suffer. Did I mention how pathetic and inconsolable you sounded? It was like detoxing an addict. You paced by the door and meowed incessantly. You even brazenly jumped up on the kitchen counter one day while we were at work and ate half a loaf of bread—through the plastic. Another time, I set grocery bags in the house and went back to the car to get the others and within 30 seconds you had located the dinner rolls and taken a big bite of one through the plastic. We felt it was our duty to be strong where you could not be, so as a last resort, we started confining you to the basement when we were at work because of your propensity to consume anything that was not encased in hard plastic or metal. One typical March morning, I locked the door to the basement before leaving for work. Everything would have been fine except your father came home before I did and tripped the house alarm. Not a problem usually, since he’d just come up to the main level and disarm it. But as he started upstairs from the garage-basement, he realized the door to the main level was locked from the other side and he had forgotten his front door key. “Where are you???” he called my cell phone in a panic, the alarm blaring in the background. “I’m looking for curtains at JC Penney,” I said stunned and slightly annoyed. “What am I supposed to do?” he demanded. “The police will be coming any minute and I have to tell them I’m locked out of my own house. This is so embarrassing!” None of this, may I remind you, would have come about if it weren’t for your insatiable appetite. True, our neighbor didn’t do us any favors by allowing you to come over for so many years unchecked and, true, your father could make it habit to carry his house key. But what’s really going on here? We make sure that your daily meals and current weight are normal for a cat your size and age. You get loads of attention and stimulation. There should be no reason why you are so obsessed with food. So I ask you, what demons rumble in your kitty tummy and propel you to drive us insane? ~Mama

Teeth Brushing for Cats

Ken demonstrates the dangerous endeavor of brushing Oliver's teeth.

Cats Can't Caucus

Oliver was very disappointed that he couldn't attend yesterday's Democratic caucuses with us. He wanted to support the candidate much like himself: black & white with hope for the future. This was my first time going to a caucus and I have to admit it was a little chaotic but an inspiring demonstration of taking responsibility for making things better. Many of our neighbors showed up as we stood/sat in our designated presinct areas. Our presinct along with most others in Washington voted heavily in favor of Obama. We were even able to sway enough undecideds to the Obama camp that we earned an extra deligate between initial and final vote counts. It's not that I doubt Hillary could do the job but I feel like we are at a very important time in history where our country is weak, splintered and resented by the rest of the world. I want to see something different, inspiring and focused. So that's why I/we caucused for Obama. And for the first time, it feels like our state's vote will count and the nominee will not be decided by just an early, involved few. I think the Republicans would like nothing better than to run against a Clinton because she's an "easy" target. And I know alot of the boomer women feel slighted that many younger women aren't supporting Hillary. Sure, she's the first viable female candidate we've ever had but really, she's a Clinton first. Her decisions are not informed or improved by her feminitiy. They are informed by a dynastic philosophy of power and influence she and her husband have built. Sad but true.

Oliver (& Us): Transfixed

You probably think we are insane to encourage our cat to watch TV but I tell you, this Video Catnip DVD seems to capture Oliver's imagination like nothing else we've seen. (That is, if cats have an imagination) We decided to test his concentration. Impressive. He's getting to the point where he may well start pushing buttons on the receiver. They put a warning on the DVD that cats have jumped onto TVs or tried to get inside televisions looking for the stars of the video. So now I make sure to close the cabinet when we are not using it. We try to be responsible cat parents and limit his DVD watching to 15-20 minutes a day. But an odd side-effect of this DVD is that he will sit and watch our TV shows as well. He probably hopes to glimse a juicy bird or squirrel. But he must be kicking himself inside because up to now, he would just stare at us when we watched TV ignoring the magic movie box. To think what he was missing...

What will you give me if I move?

The Cat Finally Contributes

Oliver: the rat-killing, hyper-groomer

This morning, Ken found and disposed of a medium-sized dead rat that was wet & chewed (but whole, thank God) in what we now refer to as "Oliver's Lair of Doom" (a.k.a. the basement). This is rare behavior for our fuzzy friend since we've trained him to believe that food comes from an automatic electric dispenser and has nothing to do with "instincts" "hunting" or "one's place in the food chain" but everything to do with "is it 4 'o clock"? The only other time that we've found a small creature meeting tragic ends via Oliver is when our good friends Sean and Shannon visited this house for the first time. We were showing them around and as we descended into the basement, I said, "Over there is the entertainment center and karaoke machine. Over here is my Mulan movie poster. And, oh look a dead bird. In pieces."

Cat Trap, part deux

At 5 am Wednesday morning, Ken sprang from bed at the screeching of the cat trap’s tell-tale alarm. In my foggy state, I heard him throw open the kitchen door, looking for our furry counter-jumper. Predictably, Oliver bolted out the cat door before Ken could catch him. But the satisfaction and pure glee that the cat trap had worked lessened the crime-against-humanity-hour at which we’d been awakened. Kudos to Ken for an ingenious plan! Ken said he just wishes we would have put a webcam in there to capture the wondrous moment. I just hope after all this effort that Oliver has “learned something.”

To Build a Better Cat Trap

Our darling cat Oliver has recently taken to jumping up on the kitchen counter and scrounging whatever edible food item is not tucked safely inside several layers of plastic. I cannot tell you how frustrating it is to come home from work to a rosemary roll I really wanted with dinner in bits and pieces all over the floor. We were perplexed as to how to discourage this behavior because we can't bar him from the kitchen due to the house's layout, using upside down sticky tape (a previously successful method in Ken's apartment) warns him it's there with a distinct smell--not to mention it's very inconvenient for the humans using the kitchen--and electroshock is apparently out of the question. So my clever husband awoke me at 2:30 am the other morning to share with me his grand vision of how to teach our little cat that mommy and daddy don't take kindly to tiptoeing on the counter. Aside from the timing, it was quite good. Behold, the cat trap.... Can't see it? Here's a closer look: The idea is to create an unstable landing surface that will present an immediate consequence (he'll fall back) and to negatively reinforce jumping up again we have the Tattle Tale, a motion sensing alarm that emits a loud siren when jostled in any way. The beauty of this cat trap is that it's quickly moved aside when we need to use the kitchen and easy to set up before we leave. It also goes without saying that we'll make sure not to leave open or poorly wrapped food on the counter anymore. I'll let you know how it goes. But being completely metal, it could be electrified...I'm just saying.