Taming the Were-Lion OR A Perspective of Love

Taming the Were-Lion OR A Perspective of Love

            We’re always had cats, as long as I can remember.  When I was little, they were scruffy “barn “cats that lived outside and came in to top up their nutrition in the way of cat food and milk and to lie in front of the fireplace (sometimes a mouse went free if they really liked the cat food of the day!).  I would sneak them into the house in the winter and they all learned that climbing a tree and crossing the roof to my bedroom window was a sure warmth winner.

            One of the first things I did upon leaving the familial birthplace was to buy a pedigree Siamese cat (which I loved that breed thanks to Lady and The Tramp (even though Am and Si were villains in that movie)) I also decided said cat would become and always be a housecat.  No dog, no cars, no wildlife would threaten my precious bundle of fur.  The dynasty of house cats continued as one of the first things my husband and I did when my daughter reached a responsible age was buy a pedigree Siamese cat for her too.  The love of cats lives on in her and even reached a higher degree.  Unknown to us until she was older, she became “the goddess of cats” in that almost any stray, unknown, un-pedigreed, or hurt cat would come to see her when she was in the vicinity.

            Fast forward to daughter grown and living on her own with cats, we’re moving overseas to begin my husband’s ex-pat career and our cats must be given to loving homes because we didn’t have the money to ship them with us AND they were backyard adopted cats (except one who was a piddler) so we didn’t feel too horrid for finding them good homes.  And it was amazing how fast we placed 3 adult cats to loving homes.  We remained cat-less for a number of years but took any opportunities to care for cats including babysitting cats at our apartment in Singapore.

            We remained cat-less through a couple of rotations on the ex-pat roller coaster but decided to adopt and give some cats that started out with a rough life a very good home of love and luxury.  Hence we headed off to the local pet shop one Saturday.  Our intent was to get adult cats but I had to buy something in the back of the store and by the time I returned to the adoption area, my husband was cuddling a small bewildered and upset Tortie-point Siamese kitten.  How anyone could abandon anything so gorgeous and precious is beyond me but Godiva went home with us that day, 9 years ago.  And since we don’t believe in one cat living  alone when we’re off to work or whatever, Puff went home with us that day too, a brown Mackerel Tabby.  I grew attached to Godiva more than Puff and Puff became my hubby’s cat.

            Godiva is sweet and loving and fluffy and soft and cute and pretty and funny and adorable.  She makes us laugh when she rolls over to have a belly rub (she’s been called a “belly-Ho” because she’ll roll over for anyone!)  Puff is a bit harder to love as he’s well named because he’s afraid of everything and when he was little, the smallest noise would make him puff –up to appear ferocious.  Godiva was kind and loving to everyone.  She wasn’t afraid to go anyplace with me and hardly ever hissed or growled except when in mock battle with Puff.  So imagine my surprise when around the age of 2 (her age, not mine), she went to the vet for a bit of an infection or belly ache or whatever (can’t even remember why she went now) and suddenly the vet is “expressing her anal glands” which in my opinion didn’t need doing and if I had known what the vet planned to do, I would have stopped it.

            This one act is what changed my sweet baboo into a snarling, clawing, hissing, growling, snapping, and biting were-lion.  She so hated this procedure that since that episode (7 years ago), she has hated any vets and vet office and lets them all know it the minute we walk in the door.  She is extremely difficult in the examining room and vets have barely been able to touch her.  She must be dragged kicking and screaming from her cage to get onto the examining table and sounds like she is being tortured.  Whenever I leave from the vets examine room, all eyes in the waiting room are on me, wide eyed in terror and disbelief from the sounds they have just heard – their pets quivering in fear at the imagined torture they must now face upon entering through that same door.

            As such, it usually then falls to me to help hold her because she is calmer with me involved.  That doesn’t mean she stops snarling and hissing and growling and fighting to escape, it just means they have maybe a 20% better chance of touching her and examining her.  Last night we had to do an emergency run to the vet because Godiva was doing the “I’m in pain, Mama!” cry.  That changed to the “snarl – why am I in the cage, Mama?” to “growl and hiss – hated vets office, get me out of here!!! *($%!***!!*%#)”

            The vets are great in that they are worried she might bite me. (She never has except for play bites and when she is injured and my fingers get in the way of her mouth) I said, she probably will if she gets a chance and my fingers get in the way so this vet offered to take her into the back with her “properly trained in handling irate animals” personnel so they could examine her.  Less than 10 minutes later, they were back.  The vet said they couldn’t touch her or get her out of the cage!  My sweet baboo has gone were-Lion again and turned into the snarling monster of the beasts.  The vet suggested that maybe it would be better after all if I held her so Godiva comes back to the examining room, still yelling at the world through her cage door and I am able to grab her and get her out and hold her while the vet has a look.  Poor baby.  She has some kind of infection again but since my regular vet had been working on it for the last month, the emergency vet thought it best if I get medication from them.  She was able to give Godiva a pain injection so she could make it through the night.  The emergency vet was also amazed that her “trained personnel to handle irate animals” was unable to handle her and yet I could grab her and hold her and calm her down (to an extent) so that she could be examined.  We trudge back home with her doing the minimal snarl and growl and hiss from her cage so we know that she isn’t happy with the world, still, and then she does the “get away from me” to Puff and for once, he seems to understand he is going to get his clock cleaned if he messes with the were-lion.

            Sweet baboo has become a mess from being at the vets.  She always does animal imitations when the purpose suits her.  At vets, she does her best squid imitation but instead of squirting ink to disappear, she drops a whole kitten’s worth of fur and figures she can disappear into a fur cloud.  She also tries to imitate monkeys who will fling their feces at targets.  She just lacks the flinging part but has the getting out the feces in case she ever figures out how to fling part well in hand.  So once home, she needs to be cleaned and we need to start her on her medication.  I am able to get most of her wiped off until I start on her lower belly which still must be giving her some pain as she scratches out while trying to turn over and leave and I get stabbed a couple of times in the arm.  We have to grab her again to give her the meds and it is a huge syringe that has to be pushed into her mouth but it is so hard to push it that I need my husband’s help to hold her and push the syringe.  She didn’t get all of her meds, maybe about half.  The rest went all over me.  We should have waited about ½ hour as she mellowed from the pain killing shot and turned back into my sweet baboo. 

            Today I get to take her to the regular vet to see if they can figure out what is wrong with her.  I hope I don’t have to leave her because she will turn into a were-lion once we reach the vets door and I don’t need the death of a trained professional in animal handling on my conscious. 

            Obviously we love our cats.  We joke about my daughter’s cats and call them our “grand-kitties” since we have no grandchildren.  We laughingly figure out the relationships between our fuzzy “kids” and my daughter’s fuzzy “kids”.  And when necessary, we spend a heap load of money on them as in last night’s emergency vet.  When you love your pets, the money is paid, albeit sometimes with a huge grimace or a juggle to take the money from something else, but we would find the money somehow to keep them going for we love their companionship, their antics, and their love back to us (yes, yes, some don’t agree that cats are that loving but ours are).  So our perspective is that the money is the least of the problems when your loved one needs help.  And anyone who loves their dog, cat, rabbit, bird, fish, snake, hamster, fox (I add this because someone I know had a pet fox) will somehow try and find the money to help their pet in distress.  It cost us 145 POUNDS to go to the emergency vet last night and walk in the front door.  Then we had to pay for the meds and any other treatment Godiva got.  Luckily I didn’t have to pay for an emergency room visit for any human personnel at the local A&E.  When we walked into the vet’s office, a couple were paying and getting ready to leave.  Their pet of love was a large rabbit!  So 145 pounds for the rabbit was also an acceptable price when dealing with their love of their pet.  I do admit that I might not have felt so inclined to spend that much on a pet rabbit but what do I know. Love is powerful and ya gotta do what’s necessary to work it and keep it going even if it means a lot of money for the life of an animal that is probably not going to last your whole life.  The time our cats spend with us is ever so precious and wonderful and worth the money.  Perspective!

Watching An Icon

Watching an Icon

            Very rigid childhood upbringing.  Television existed but programs where specifically chosen by my father thus there wasn’t a lot of current content or anything that seemed a bit risqué or just anything that he just wasn’t interested in seeing.  No remotes in those days but he controlled the channels with an iron step and an iron voice.  While I do believe I missed out on a lot of early television programs that are now classic, our list of “allowable” programs still included such old favorites (now classics) as: Bonanza, Sing Along with Mitch Miller, Lawrence Welk, Perry Como, Red Skelton, I Love Lucy, Ed Sullivan (depending of course who was on that night – never saw the Beetles on it or Elvis), and finally, my most favorite of all, The Wonderful World of Disney.  We never, ever missed it.  It took me away from the cares and worries and insecurities of daily living and transported me into a magical world where good always triumphed and often good was led by a scruffy young girl or her companion dog or some young kids who confounded the “semi-evil villains”. 

            One of my earliest heroines was Haley Mills.  I so wanted to be her and become like her.  I could recite her lines from all her Disney movies and in private; I could definitely act out her roles.  I sang her songs from “The Parent Trap” until my whole family hated having me come into the room if it looked like I was singing.  I fell in love with her costars in “In Search of the Castaways”.  Whenever possible, I watched anything she was appearing in but back then it took years before a current movie would be shown again on Disney.  She meant much more to me than any of the Mousketeers.   Why couldn’t I have been born British so I could talk like her?  Why couldn’t my parents have been actors so I would have the same chance to be discovered?  Why, Why, Why???  I loved her so much that the only reason I didn’t end up with posters covering my walls and lunch boxes and comic books and anything else featuring her was because I had no money and we never went shopping.  I was so unaware.

            And then she grew up and then I followed shortly afterwards and time and interests changed and I lost track.  She still showed up in movies occasionally and I would attend but never with the same passion – for me - of her childhood days of Disney.

            Now, with good fortune and my husband’s job, I am living in England.  I peruse the newspapers weekly to find good and proper English venues and experiences to attend, some with the Women’s Clubs and some with my husband.  Last week, purely by chance, I saw she was appearing in “Ladies in Lavender” at the Yvonne Arnaud Theatre in Guildford which is close to us.  There was NO WAY I could miss the chance to see my childhood idol in person.  OMG, what if I am too late to buy tickets.  Thank goodness I was not but it was a close thing and we bought tickets for the last night of the play.  For this, for once, I just told my husband that we were going rather than asking him if he was interested like I usually try to do.  Luckily he is understanding and interested.

            Neither of us had any clue what the play was about but we did read up on it before we attended.  Nor had either of us ever heard of the movie version of some years back with even more famous actresses playing the parts.  I just wanted to go see Haley.

            Tonight we went and now we are back.  It was a most marvelous experience to finally see her in person even though it has been a good 40 years since my infatuation as a child.  But it’s only been a good week since my infatuation as an adult.  I still love her.  I still think she’s wonderful and beautiful and still wish I could have been like her growing up.  The play was quite good and interesting and all the actors were marvelous.  She played an especially poignant part and played it quite well.  It had some funny bits, and some sad bits and some bittersweet remembrances of times gone by and some horrid thoughts of the realization that war was coming.  So very, very glad we had the opportunity to see her and the play.  I can check another thing off my things I would really love to do.  Don’t really have such a list until something like this comes around and I realize how much of old habits and thoughts can be drug out of the cellar and become a reality.  Seeing an icon!  Priceless. Thank you Haley Mills.

And Not in This wet suit

     Last weekend was a bank holiday and as it coincided with my husband's every other Friday off work, it gave us a four day weekend so off we went.  This time, we went to Sardinia.  It's a pretty big island so we rented a car.  Our original intent was to scuba dive for a day and if we liked it and there was lots to see, we'd do a second day.  So we had made arrangements to stay on the north end of the island where there were several dive shops.  We flew into Olbia and then got our little Fiat Panda and drove up with hilly, twisty, winding road.  Speed limits were around 55 mph but I don't see how anyone could keep up that speed as it was up and down and back and forth and around and around!  We did finally make it to our hotel though and then walked into town to check out the dive shop.

     My husband and I are definitely fair weather divers.  We don't like the cold and we don't like currents but we do love to dive.  They had warned us it would be cold but said they could outfit us without a problem.  We found the shop and they gave us some wet suits to try.  I don't think I've ever seen a wet suit this thick!  I don't think I even knew they made them this thick.  OMG.  AND since I don't normally wear a wet suit, I was in the bathroom struggling and struggling to put it on backwards!    Double OMG.  realized my mistake and by that time, I was exhausted but peeled it off and turned it around and realized  it wasn't going to fit anyway.  Called in my hubby to help me peel it off the parts I had gotten it over and we got another one to try.

     Again, struggling and struggling.  The material of the wet suit if very unyielding and my arthritic hands are just not having a lot of luck pulling this up over the "puffier" parts of my body.  squirming and jumping and pulling and stomping and shaking and twisting and sweating, sweating, sweating.  I am such a fair weather diver and when my husbands tells me that they are going to give us yet ANOTHER shorty wet suit to wear over this longer one, I suddenly lost all desire to dive this week.  Reverse procedure and start pulling it all off and struggling to get out and then putting on my clothes over my sweating tired body and telling them that we might just have to come back when the water is much warmer and when is that by the way?  So best laid plans and all.  No diving this weekend but the photos were wonderful that we saw and there apparently are fish to see and things to do while diving in the Mediterranean so we will have to give it a go sometime.  Just now with a 9mm wetsuit plus shorty on top.  Not sure it will ever get warm enough for us but we'll keep an eye on the temps and try.

Chasing the Passport OR A Good Taxi

       Due to some rather heavy over scheduling, I realized that April would be the only month free of foreign travel where I wouldn't need my passport.  As such, as soon as we returned from our trip to Tanzania and Zanzibar on April 1, I promptly sent off my passport for a new one.  It was quite hard to do as my old passport is nice and fat with visas and stamps and exotic locations but I have to have a new one this year.  The U.S. embassy in London stated that you should allow a month to get your passport back.  By special delivery, my passport got to them on April 3 and we are leaving on May 4 for our next trip.

Around April 18, I got a call from the embassy telling me I needed to send in another photo as the one I had sent wasn't good for their new technology.  I had to run around to the place they "recommended" (they aren't allowed to recommend but he did hint broadly that this particular place did good work), find a post office and send them another application with my new photo and new charge card details.  He assured me that I would still be able to get my passport in time for our trip.

May 1st came and went without a passport showing up and now I am getting nervous but still hopeful.  I must get it on May 2 or I will have to go into London on the 3rd to get an emergency passport or else my husband will be going off on holiday by himself.  May 2 the postman actually came to the door with another package but it wasn't my passport.  GULP.  I immediately got online and did the "request for emergency passport".  Two hours later I had the reply and an appointment for the next day at 2 p.m.  I do ahead and do all the preparation for our trip like packing and getting the proper cash and boarding passes, etc. etc.

This morning I had to drive my husband to work so I would have the car to take the train into London.  I worked out all the time schedules on the train so I would have plenty of time to get to the embassy.  I waited until the last minute and while some packages did arrive at the house, no postman.  So I am off to the train station and to London Waterloo and to Bond Street and to the embassy.  I made good time and got there at 1:30 p.m. and they are pretty much closed for lunch.  Dang.  the guard tells me to return at 1:55p.m.  there's not really anywhere to go so I just go to the park and sit and read and keep watching the time and the door. Finally at 10 till 2, I look at the embassy and figured I could go and maybe get inside.  By the time I turned off my kindle and put it in my purse and stood up and walked the 20 yards back to the embassy, there were 8 people standing there in line!!  Stealth citizens!  they all came out of nowhere.  But they are starting to let people into the embassy and I know that even with a 2 p.m. appointment, if I am in line, I am good to get into the embassy.  Still, it takes 25 minutes to get in because they only let in one person (or group) at a time to go through security and a couple with a baby took 15 minutes for some reason.

Finally I am into security and hand over my car keys, phone and kindle and get my claim tag and get into the embassy and get my magic number.  I had not sat down more than 5 minutes when my number was called.  YEA!  and the on line information had said you could wait 2-4 hours!  I go to the window and explain that my passport had not been returned even though the man said it would.  She explained that if I had an emergency passport that it would cancel out my new one and that I would then have to begin again in the while process but she would check and see the status of where was my old passport and new one.  Took her awhile and talking to 4 people at their desks but when she returned, she said to me that my passports had been mailed yesterday!  She asked me what time I had left the house.  11:30 I replied.  Oh, she replied, it says here they delivered it at 12:45!!!  OMG.  of course they did!  if I'd only had faith!  She is trying to reassure me that I can probably pick it up in the morning before we leave but we have to be at the airport by 9.  Thank goodness we didn't have a 2 or 3 a. m. flight.  So I'm thinking maybe I can get it this evening if I take a taxi home from London which will cost me about 140 pounds.

So I head out of the embassy and collect my things and call my husband immediately and give him the skinny.  His computer is down for a work break but says he will start tracking it down for me and see what are my chances.  I make my way back to London Waterloo.

Reaching London Waterloo, I call again.  his computer is still on a work break.  I can't get a train back to our area for another 20 minutes and I, of course, didn't go to the further train station today but to the one close to home so there are no fast trains.  it will take me at least an hour and 10 minutes to get back to the car park.  After getting totally frustrated and upset and hanging up on my hubby who was only trying hard to help me, I popped onto the train and called him back and asked if he could go pick it up.  I explained that it was NOT the post office in the mall or any of the small ones in shops but it was in some industrial district and he'd have to go home first and get the slip they put through the door that said they'd tried to deliver it.  He was so gracious and immediately called a taxi and left work.

Now I am on the train and on my way and wishing I had a glass of wine or something.  He calls and says he's at home and has the paperwork and the taxi is now going to take him to the station to pick up the car so he can go get it.  Maybe we are saved after all.

Now we come to the Good Taxi part.  The taxi driver took him to our station.  There are two parking lots.  I only knew about one of them which is located behind the train station and across the tracks.  it is not the main parking lot.  the taxi driver and my husband only knew about the main parking station which is by the train station and on the same side of the tracks.  They pulled into the parking lot and my husband does not see our car.  The taxi driver, and my husband was still on the meter and the driver had waited for him at our house while he retrieved the paperwork from the post office, remembered there was another parking lot and drove to it and wow, there's our car.

My husband now gets out and pays the taxi driver.  By now, the driver has been told the story of the passport and knows that my husband is trying to get it before anything closes and that his wife is a little wacky and upset and freaked out too.  He volunteers to drive over to the post office in the industrial park and have my husband follow him in our car.  This is totally off the meter and off the payment plan!  What a very, very nice man and a good person!  It wasn't far from the train station because I have been there but it is hard to find if you have no clue where to go.  The taxi driver drove right to it with my hubby following and took him right into the parking lot and then left him there to go find another far.  This driver is going to get some good karma for his deeds today.

My hubby goes into the post office and retrieves my passports.  I have to carry the old one with me because it has my England visa in it but my new one is all ready now for more exotic locations and stamps and visas.  Yea!  Thank you U.S. Embassy, thank you royal mail special delivery, thank you my wonderful husband, and thank you unknown taxi driver.   We travel anon!!