Are you kitten me?

Posted on October 16, 2015 by luckyotter

Possibly the funniest/scariest video I’ve ever seen. 😆

My animal hoarder ex.

Posted on October 12, 2015 by luckyotter

My ex, a malignant narcissist who has been diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder, is an animal hoarder.

When we were married, at one point we had 15 cats. I was always too embarrassed to tell anyone how many we had because it was way too many for us to afford or care for properly, and it just sounded crazy to say you had that many cats.

I’ve always loved cats and always kept a few around whenever I could, but my ex thought it was his duty to bring home any stray kitten he found–and he always seemed to find them (or maybe they found him). I really think it was about control though, not a real love for animals. He knew I disapproved of having so many cats (and the lion’s share of their care and litter box cleanup fell on my shoulders, of course) so he’d bring them home just to annoy me. When I objected, he’d gaslight me by telling me I was an animal hater, which is far from the truth. I tried to reason with him, telling him that we weren’t helping these animals by having so many and that we were unable to give them the proper care and attention.

As much as I love cats, in the double digits (or even upper single digits), they are no longer much fun. Cats hate being overcrowded and cat fights in our house were a daily occurrence. On top of this, “Michael” wouldn’t allow them to go outside (though sometimes they escaped anyway, probably just to get some space). We kept 7 litter boxes (about 1 box per 2 cats) and they had to be cleaned daily and changed every other day. Vacuuming was constant; I had to vacuum the entire house twice a day due to the enormous amounts of cat hair and the litter tracked in from the litter box area on the screened in porch. In the summer, because the porch would get so hot, the boxes would be swarming with flies and sometimes I even found maggots in them. The cats hated that and several began to do their business outside the litter boxes, requiring a lot of poop pick up.

The cats were unhappy and several didn’t look too healthy either. We didn’t have the money to take them all to the vet, so we started reading on the Internet about how to give vaccinations and medical care ourselves. Veterinary supplies, including injections, were purchased at a local feed store that catered mainly to farmers and people who kept domestic livestock.

The house smelled terrible, no matter how much I tried to keep on top of it. I couldn’t invite anyone to the house. Many times I tried to talk to Michael about the situation, but he always refused to listen and we always wound up fighting. Our kids were small at that time and of course since kids love animals (and Michael tried to turn them into miniature flying monkeys against me anyway), they’d cry when I threatened to give some of them away.

After our divorce in 2005, Michael moved in with his girlfriend, a pillhead who had 2 large dogs–a pitbull and a mixed breed. Soon they had 8 dogs, most of whom were kept in large cages most of the time since they both worked and the dogs were never housetrained. When you went to their house, you had to make sure you didn’t step in dog poop. It smelled like hell. On top of that, Michael had brought along the 5 remaining cats (I wasn’t allowed to have them in my apartment at the time) and then adopted several more. He also became interested in bearded dragons but had no idea how to care for them properly and most of them died.

When Michael lived with me, he adopted a Jack Russell/Beagle mix he named Barnaby. I told that story in my article, How My ASPD Ex Used a Dog to Gaslight Me. Again, I had no say over the dog even though it was the worst behaved, most destructive dog I ever met. We only got rid of him because Michael himself decided he didn’t want the dog anymore (after we were threatened with a fine for the dog disturbing the neighbors for the third time in a row).
He always had to have the last word. He’s a class A control freak.

He’s hoarding animals again. He already has 4 cats and a dog. That’s not so bad, but I’m sure there will be more as time goes on.

The Progression of Autumn: September 13

Posted on September 13, 2015 by luckyotter

There haven’t been too many changes yet, but it’s definitely looking less like summer, with the first day of fall only a week from now. Today felt very fall-like, with temperatures only in the 60s.

It’s hard to see here, but these trees are showing yellow now.

It definitely looks like autumn here.

My roses are still hanging in there. 🙂

My tuxedo cat, Sheldon, enjoying the cooler temperatures. I know the garden looks like crap. I got lazy and let it go.

Previous post in this series:
Summer into Fall: The Progression of Autumn: September 7

Spiderkitten.

Posted on August 2, 2015 by luckyotter

My daughter’s 3 1/2 month old kitten Zelda was climbing the walls today.

Update on Mr. Biggles.

Posted on June 28, 2015 by luckyotter

I wrote about Mr. Biggles in this article; he had to be rehomed several months ago (along with my black lab mix, Dexter) because I simply didn’t have the space for so many kitties or the time to devote to my dog, who was alone in the house all day (I wound up keeping Cleo here). I gave Mr. Biggles and Dexter to my ex for awhile because he is always home (that is one thing I can trust him with–animals), but now he is living with my daughter and her boyfriend and seems to be thriving. If anything, he’s fatter and hairier than ever.

That’s my daughter holding Mr. Biggles.

Chunky (Chunks): RIP 2003 – June 20, 2015

Posted on June 21, 2015 by luckyotter

I am very sad right now and this will probably be the only thing I write tonight.
A couple of hours ago, my fat cat Chunks died. I think it was cancer, most likely a tumor that eventually blocked her intestines.

I got her in 2011, when she was 8. She was already middle aged, fat but sassy, and while she loved her people (especially me) she used to show my other kitties (and dog Daisy, then Dexter) exactly where they stood. One of the things she loved to do was suck on my fingers at night. She was probably dreaming of kittenhood, being fed by her mom, when she did that.

No matter how many low fat diets she was put on, or how many reduced feedings, she kept getting fatter. When I could afford to, I took her to the vet and he put her on a special diet for awhile but it didn’t work because she didn’t like the bland Science Diet he gave her.

Generally though, she was healthy–as an overweight middle aged lady can be. Occasionally I’d give her a little catnip and that would perk her up and she’d run around the house making everyone laugh because it was so unexpected and she looked so funny running around like that.

The past few weeks I noticed she was losing weight. She started vomiting more than usual (she always puked a lot because she ate too fast) but not excessively so. I tried putting her on a blander diet and giving her smaller portions. But she started to become lethargic last week and went off her feed. I couldn’t find any vets who wouldn’t charge and I couldn’t afford to take her to one, but she didn’t really seem that uncomfortable. I spent more time with her and brought her up on my bed at night to sleep with me. She hadn’t done that in awhile.

Yesterday she stopped eating. This morning she vomited something that looked and smelled like feces. I knew her time had come. There wasn’t anything to do but wait.

She slept most of the day and at about 3 PM I heard her cry in pain. I rushed into the living room where she lay, and dark brown, almost black blood was coming from her mouth. Normally something like that would gross me out (I’m a pretty squeamish person) but when it’s someone you love, it doesn’t. You heart breaks for them of course, but the sight of blood or bodily fluids isn’t disgusting, not when there’s love there.

She went unconscious and started to convulse badly. I cried as I sat down on the floor next to her and petted and stroked her as she finally went across the Rainbow Bridge. I said a prayer and told her I was sorry I couldn’t have done more. I told her I loved her.

She didn’t suffer for long, only a minute, and the spot where she died was the exact same spot my dog Daisy died 2 1/2 years ago. Wiping away tears, I read the copy of The Rainbow Bridge, and then found a cardboard cat carrier to lay her in, put a towel on the bottom, and covered her with a little dog-and-cat printed blanket.

I’ll miss you, Chunks.

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together….

Author unknown…

Let’s stop blaming the rats!

Posted on May 31, 2015 by luckyotter

Painting shows a scene of people suffering from the bubonic plague in the 15th century from the Toggenberg Bible. — Image by © Bettmann/CORBIS

Thumbup posted a little piece about the rats being the culprits of the Black Death. Well, that’s wrong but at least he’s not blaming the cats.

Thumbup is on the right track but he’s only halfway to the shocking truth about the Plague. Lots of people don’t like cats and it’s still popular to blame them for the pestilence–or at least it was back in those days of yore when it was considered perfectly proper to toss your bodily wastes from an unscreened window out into a gutter in the street and warn passersby there was a shitstorm on the way. No wonder there was so much illness. Of course we all know the shitstorms of yore weren’t responsible for the Plague, or we should know it if we don’t.

Back in those sanitation-challenged days of high superstition and low-numbered lifespans, cats were blamed for the pestilence. Our furry friends were regarded by the average man or woman as commiserating in secret dwelling places with The Evil One. The ignorance was so rife in those days it never occurred to anyone that maybe NOT killing the cats off might have prevented the disgusting pestilence, because the cats would have killed the rats who harbored the fleas. But we should be aware too that the Plague was actually nature’s way of correcting an imbalance–it cut down the burgeoning population in urban areas and paved the way for the Industrial Age, for whatever THAT’s worth. As if that’s a good thing, which it might be. Or might not be. I never really thought about it much. I guess it depends if you’re a Luddite who likes to grind their own coffee and make bread from scratch or a high-tech lover of the processed and ready-made.

But I digress. I opened this post to set the record straight about the common misconception that it was rats were were responsible for the Plague. No, they really weren’t. Even though they aren’t particularly well liked, aren’t all that cute, and are usually feared because they are thought to spread disease, it’s simply not fair to stop with the rats. The rats were actually victims themselves! The rats carried the fleas which held within their evil little carapaces the bacterium Yersinia Pestis that made all hell break loose.

Yes. The fleas. The gosh-darn fleas. Those unholy little fuckers who make my lower legs look like a slab of pimiento cheese after it’s been through the grater. Those annoying near-microscopic specks of jumping hell that leap off my cats and burrow into the weave of my rugs and my bedding and make me eschew wearing shorts when it’s 104 degrees outside. The real familiars of Satan who love the taste of my blood over anyone else’s on the planet. Anyone who’s spent any time reading my online soapbox and spewing platform knows that I hold in my heart the same passionate black hatred for fleas that the medieval Catholic church held for heretics in their midst. It was the fleas who were the real harbingers of painful death by gangrenous exploding pustules, not the rats.

The rats never asked to be infested with the fleas. In fact, I bet the fleas drove them as insane as they drive me every summer. So let’s stop blaming the rats and place the blame on the source of everything that’s evil in this world–the fleas!

Obligatory cute kitten post.

Posted on May 25, 2015 by luckyotter

https://vine.co/v/ea0bJgvBdiL/embed/simple

Sorry, but I wasn’t able to embed this Vine video. Click on link to watch. ❤

I love the Internet.

Posted on May 17, 2015 by luckyotter

The Internet is a wonderful and terrible thing. It opens doors and slams them shut. It builds up and destroys. It educates and dumbs down. It lies and tells the truth. It’s a balance of dark and light, good and evil, alpha and omega. Cyberspace is a parallel universe that opens up when you touch your keyboard.

The Internet is a free-for-all. Anything can happen. It’s always evolving, always changing…for better or worse, you never know. And it’s still mostly free.

Oh, and there’s plenty of cats too.

I always thought of the Internet as comparable to being set loose in New York City during its most dangerous and exciting years–the 1970s and 1980s. You never knew what you would see, what sort of wonderful or terrible things could happen. It was a glorious chaos during that time. I know, I lived there then.

I hope the Internet is never “cleaned up” the way New York City was during the 1990s. I don’t want a Disneyland Internet.