The Jake Update

My old man kitty Jake, (14+ years) fell off my fifth floor balcony last week. It is true that cats are not as sure-footed as most think. They can be downright clumsy. Yet, that is not the slant I want to take with this post.

From what I heard, the manager heard a loud thump. She went out to see what it was and found an injured cat. White with grey on his head. Not knowing what else to do she called animal control. When they arrived 45 minutes later and picked him up, his bowels emptied. (No shit!)

The opinion was he was going off to be put down. That is what I was told when calling after not being able to find him in my apartment. I thought he might have been lost in the building.

It was one of those rough nights of the soul with little sleep to escape with. Next morning with a call to the Humane Society, I found Jake was still alive and ready for pick-up. WOW!

He was in bad shape. Falling five flights is like being hit at 25 mph. His back legs swayed back and forth as he walked. He whimpered for two days. I got him to the vet on Friday and was told if he's not better by Monday I should put him down. He got pain meds.

A cat on pain meds is a sloppy thing. They become very wobbly and their eyes are drunken. On Sunday he was visibly better. He didn't need meds that day. He started eating again and talking to me. I sat with him and held him (when he was ready) for five days.

I remember the doctor telling me Jake has a bigger problem, which is probably why he fell.
But today he is much better. It's been eight days now. I am so reminded time heals all wounds. And yet it seems so long when one is entangled in the minutes.

Jake's Got 8 Left

Jake on Monday

My senior cat Jake (14 plus years old) has eight lives left after he fell off my fifth floor balcony Tuesday night.

I spent all Tuesday night thinking he was dead. When I called the animal control people I found out he was not. I went Wednesday to get him out of jail.

He is not doing well. He is breathing funny, real short breaths with a noise like it's hard to breathe. I think he is in pain and not in shock (his gums are pink and his paws warm).

I'm not sure what to do today, I am just leaving him alone to relax and heal for now. Usually I tell him to quiet down because he wails at me. This is one time I wish he'd complain. Then I'd know he was all right.

Back From The Brink!

Jake Domino likes the smell of my Crocs

Silly Willa

There is something about a paper bag...

... that makes Jake want to get
cozy.

Paws-ative Proof

Look...

Jake, the Master of the Nap

Pussy Love, Part two X 2

I have a clear plastic box that is originally a panel from an electric litter box. For some reason Jake took to it on top of the window ledge between my kitchen and living room. I don't almost step on him there. I don't pass food through there. And, he can see the whole apartment from this perch. It's what cats love, height and low traffic. If he is happy and quiet, I too am happy and quiet.

Jake tends to be loud and impatient. But who wouldn't be. His Buddy and our soul mate cat, Buster, passed away 1 1/2 years ago. They were best friends. They slept together, played together and even groomed each other. The makeup of his territory has changed drastically.

No more are quiet days of napping in the sun. Now he's likely to get jumped upon, any time, any place. I feel for him, I really do, but my hands are tied. I adopt pets for life, and he doesn't like the new setup. I love his "sisters" as much as I love him. So he needs to get used to it and find places that are safe for him, like the one pictured here.

Nap on my darling Jake...

Pussy Love, part two again

This little princess is a very shy kitty. She is small and afraid of large things, which from her point of view is almost everything. I will always protect and love her. I know if I hadn't been there, she would have been feral. And I don't think she would have lived very long.

She is affectionate when relaxed, yet she still doesn't trust me completely. And I have been with her since day one! I'm glad she is flourishing with me none the less. I am patient and I know in a few years she'll be all over me, and I'll wish she were less affectionate. On second thought -- no, I won't. She is perfect as she is...

Pussy Love, Part two

I love how photogenic Willa is. Her eyes are a turquoise color that shows up in photos. She's always striking silly poses, like when she does a half somersault, and just stays there with her ass in the air and her back paws around her ears. That one is probably in the Kama Sutra. She just does it because she is the silliest cat I have ever lived with.

She is also teaching herself to scoot along the wall, as if she is climbing horizontally, (the baseboards are carpeted). I really need to do a photo album called Silly Willa. So here's to another shot...

Which is a Witch?

Suddenly while I'm watching TV, I see a brown blur of highly charged energy stream by -- a vision? She shoots across the room and then shoots back, as if on some magic broomstick.

There is no aim to her madness, she just likes the wind in her eyeballs. Or maybe she has fallen prey to some unseen energy force taking up all the warmth on a cold night or coolness within heat. They say cats are aware of things invisible to us.

It really doesn't pose much of a problem when she's in a snit, unless she is springing off your lap to chase a moth. She uses her unclipped claws for momentum. She won't let me clip them, she needs the balance. So it's best to know your little monsters, lovely little monsters that purr when you stroke them. Purr when you read to them, purr when you scratch their necks, or backs or heads.

My little angel puss is about 6 pounds. She is so little next to her sibs, Jake about 17 lbs, and Willa, about 9 lbs.

One day a neighbor from the old country asked me if I had any children, to which I replied no, never. She said "no wonder you love these so much, (nodding towards my baby) if only you had children..."

If only things were that simple. I'll stop here for now. It's too tempting to take the low road...

Puss-Puss, the Princess

Princess Puss-Puss is my nickname for my little Daisy. No, not MY "daisy," my pussy Daisy, no wait -- get your mind out of the gutter! My cat Daisy is who I mean. It was inspired by listening to lots of Lady GaGa. Sometimes I don't call her princess, just puss-puss. She is so small and soft. She loves to be stroked. And she purrs so loud. Come on get back on the same page with me.

Daisy tends to run away from me when I approach. She is afraid of large objects coming at her. I am too. Once she is on a high shelf she turns her back to me and sticks her ass in the air. That is because I scratch her back. She raises her back legs to meet my fingers, to make sure I scratch hard enough, but not too hard. I think she likes it rough.

I am divulging a lot about private moments I spend with my puss-puss. They are times filled with love and joy. I need her and she needs me, we're a team. I feed her and care for her, and she in turn keeps my blood pressure low.

The "King" of the beasts

When all is right with the world

Be Careful, It's a Trap

I Couldn't Tell Him

A few years ago I had a silent caller. Once he started calling he kept calling no matter how many times I hung up on him or shouted obscenities. This went on for months, maybe once or twice a week. I tried to block the calls through the phone company but Verizon really couldn't do anything. So I called the police. I was able to get the offender's number from caller ID, so when the young officer arrived I was prepared.

He was a young Asian man with very sharp corners on his pants, shirt and tie. His buttons seemed to sparkle against his perfect black uniform. When he came in he took the phone, sat on the couch, and went to work.

He happened to not only get someone on the phone from my caller, but he also spoke their particular dialect. Finally we got to the bottom of the case. It was a very old man who didn't understand English, and may not have really known what he was doing, so I was promised he wouldn't call again.

I walked the officer to the door and shook his hand thanking him for taking care of my problem. As he turned towards the elevator to leave it was then I saw it... The back of his uniform was grey from all the cat hair he picked up while sitting on my couch.

I Love Feet -- Kitty feet

I am so in love with my kitties' feet. I like to watch them curl up and extend when I scratch them. I like watching them hold onto the couch before springing into action, either after one another or just jumping from furniture to furniture. Some are bony, some are furry and some are big and strong. I love the pads that have no fur, and I like kitties with big feet. And little feet also. I guess I could have a foot fetish, but I don't look at it like that. It's a part of loving every little cell that inhabits their bodies. That's how I feel about my kitties.

I never had kids so this is my tribute to watching something grow from little to great. I love being a part of a little life turned large, like Daisy who I have known since the day she was born, and even before she was born, actually. That is something I have never had, even with my other little loves. Usually you get them a few weeks or months old, which is nice also. But to see that little bundle grow from not much more than an embryo to a girl who plays hard with the other who is three times her size. That is the miracle of life in action.

So if you ever want to put a little smile on your face, look at your pets feet. Whatever size or type

of pet, I know you will smile too.

Photo 1 -- Jake in his "box" pads showing

Photo 2 -- Daisy's paw

Photo 3 -- Willa's furry feet