It seems to be fairly common knowledge that people of my generation from the United States, and a bit younger, usually only speak one language, English. When I was in school, it was fairly rare to travel the world and just really uncommon for anyone to do much more, language wise, than take what was required to get a diploma. I believe that it has changed somewhat since then but it's still more common than not that U.S. citizens will only have one language good and solid under their belt. (I'm thinking that for some of the much younger generation, I'm not even sure they have English down pat as a language!)
I've tried at various times to learn different languages, mainly Spanish, but have failed miserably in that I don't practice, I don't study, and I just don't have a good ear for it either. I've tried Mandarin Chinese, French, German, and Korean at different times of my life. and while I might have a very minuscule vocabulary in each of them, I cannot say that I can speak, read, or write any of them. So it can be embarrassing when I meet people and they are speaking 3 or 4 or 7 or 8 different languages and I'm going "one". So as a kind of joke, I decided to claim more languages and I proudly list them out for people when asked.
Now I say I speak, write, read and understand 6 languages and they are: American, British, Canadian, eh, Australian, New Zealand, and finally Singaporean, la. This gets a very good laugh among my audience. But this week I have been vindicated in that they really are separate languages!!! How, you may ask. Well, we just bought a new computer for me. My old one was dying a very slow and painful death. (It does feel better today because it knows its days are numbered). My husband was working hard last night to get the new computer up and running and asked me whether I wanted British or American language on it! See - right there an indication that they are two languages. Since we are living in England, I said British.
My husband gets busy and is attempting to transfer my files and programs from the old computer to the new computer when he runs into a very large and big and unexpected snag! The new computer can't talk to the old computer and vice versa because they don't speak the same language! OMG. how very, very droll. All these years of declaring that I speak 6 languages and I suddenly find out that for computers, it is true and I am totally right! My new computer could not understand what my old computer was telling it. Sooo, he had to go back to the beginning and download a language program and change my new computer to American so that it can understand the old computer.
HA! all you smug people who snickered at me for not knowing more than one language when you knew 2 or 3, I knew 6 all along and now I have been vindicated. Thank you Google and Microsoft and Chrome and Internet Explorer and all the rest. Let me thank you in all six languages, Thanks, Thank you eh, Cheers, Thanks, Ta, Thank you la la.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Sunday, November 10, 2013
The Great Spaghetti Mystery
Our rental house has a couple of pull out pantries in the kitchen. They are quite nice and pull out to reveal 5 shelves each of the kitchen goodies that we use fairly regularly. Such things as ketchup and mustard, tuna packs, soups, various pastas, cereals, canned goods and you get the idea. When closed, the pantries are flush with the walls. The kitchen has been outfitted like most British kitchen so that everything looks like it is the same type of cabinet with doors and handles and such (including the refrigerator and freezer which really confused me when first looking at ads for houses, thinking there were no refrigerators in the kitchens). Anyway, I digress.
On the bottom shelf of one of the pull out pantries are our different pastas including a currently open package of spaghetti. For several days now, I have sometimes come into the kitchen to find broken pieces of spaghetti on the floor in several places. The first couple of times, I figured I had not closed the door tightly or that when opening and closing it, I had inadvertently broken off some piece of spaghetti that was hanging out of the package. Just pick up the broken pieces and toss them in the bin.
The third time it happened, I began to get a bit suspicious that something more was brewing in my pantry and kitchen that I was not privy to observe. Again, I picked up the pieces, tossed them but now, I opened the pantry to check the spaghetti. Nope, no pieces were sticking half out of the package. No pieces were loose in the pantry. Hmmm. mystery. So I am now alert to checking for spaghetti on the floor in the mornings OR the afternoons when I enter the kitchen. It was becoming more frequent. Now there are scattered pieces of broken spaghetti on the floor about 3 or 4 times a week. Each time, I clean up the floor, open the pantry, check the spaghetti package and then move on to the rest of my day. Why, you ask, did I not MOVE the spaghetti package to another location? Because now I am suspecting our daughter's cat. He is way too clever for his own good and really likes to explore everything and get into anything he possibly can, just to see if he can. Has he learned to open and close the pantry? It seems rather heavy to me. He has learned to open certain doors in the house that do not close tightly without an effort. He knows which doors these are too and when he finds them open, he always checks them to see if he can shove them open. He hates closed doors. I'd like to catch him at it!
I test the pantry now each time I pass through the kitchen. Nope, it's fairly solid and heavy, loaded as it is with canned goods and such. I am certain that he is not strong enough to wiggle underneath it and pull it open. Ah HA! Light dawns. I reach down under the edge of the cabinetry - the part that is really a facade on the front of the pantry so it looks like the rest of the kitchen. If I reach as far under as I can, I feel the spaghetti! OMG. The mystery is solved I believe. He is going under the door to grab out bits of spaghetti, not to eat them but to bat them around on the floor late at night when he's awake by himself and feeling the need of some relief from boredom. The little scamp. I've gone through almost half a package of spaghetti trying to solve this mystery but I am confident I have discovered the culprit, even without actually seeing him do it. My two cats are both too old and lazy to be bothered. And yes, I have now moved the spaghetti and put a sad end to his play in the dark of the kitchen.
On the bottom shelf of one of the pull out pantries are our different pastas including a currently open package of spaghetti. For several days now, I have sometimes come into the kitchen to find broken pieces of spaghetti on the floor in several places. The first couple of times, I figured I had not closed the door tightly or that when opening and closing it, I had inadvertently broken off some piece of spaghetti that was hanging out of the package. Just pick up the broken pieces and toss them in the bin.
The third time it happened, I began to get a bit suspicious that something more was brewing in my pantry and kitchen that I was not privy to observe. Again, I picked up the pieces, tossed them but now, I opened the pantry to check the spaghetti. Nope, no pieces were sticking half out of the package. No pieces were loose in the pantry. Hmmm. mystery. So I am now alert to checking for spaghetti on the floor in the mornings OR the afternoons when I enter the kitchen. It was becoming more frequent. Now there are scattered pieces of broken spaghetti on the floor about 3 or 4 times a week. Each time, I clean up the floor, open the pantry, check the spaghetti package and then move on to the rest of my day. Why, you ask, did I not MOVE the spaghetti package to another location? Because now I am suspecting our daughter's cat. He is way too clever for his own good and really likes to explore everything and get into anything he possibly can, just to see if he can. Has he learned to open and close the pantry? It seems rather heavy to me. He has learned to open certain doors in the house that do not close tightly without an effort. He knows which doors these are too and when he finds them open, he always checks them to see if he can shove them open. He hates closed doors. I'd like to catch him at it!
I test the pantry now each time I pass through the kitchen. Nope, it's fairly solid and heavy, loaded as it is with canned goods and such. I am certain that he is not strong enough to wiggle underneath it and pull it open. Ah HA! Light dawns. I reach down under the edge of the cabinetry - the part that is really a facade on the front of the pantry so it looks like the rest of the kitchen. If I reach as far under as I can, I feel the spaghetti! OMG. The mystery is solved I believe. He is going under the door to grab out bits of spaghetti, not to eat them but to bat them around on the floor late at night when he's awake by himself and feeling the need of some relief from boredom. The little scamp. I've gone through almost half a package of spaghetti trying to solve this mystery but I am confident I have discovered the culprit, even without actually seeing him do it. My two cats are both too old and lazy to be bothered. And yes, I have now moved the spaghetti and put a sad end to his play in the dark of the kitchen.
Friday, November 8, 2013
Eulogy to my friend - CS
Most of my friends are ex-pats. Several reasons: (1) shared experiences (and all ex-pats know this feeling that when you start to explain anything to a non-ex-pat, their eyes glaze over because they can't comprehend the lifestyle) (2) I don't make friends easily because I'm fairly shy but being an ex-pat in a small community situation (like when we lived in row houses in Okpo, Korea) means you have to get to know the people in the same community and (3) I find it much easier to keep in touch with people via email, facebook, letters, holiday cards, etc. I consider some of my ex-pat friends to be my best friends because of the experiences we have shared and the hardships/fun/trials and tribulations on moving, living in a country that doesn't speak English, trying to find "proper" food, etc. And often I don't see these friends for years at a time because our husbands move onto different projects and our paths don't cross. But I miss them and keep in touch, sometimes sporadically, but if our husbands come back together on a project, we pick up our friendships exactly where we left it. CS was such a person, a wonderful friend but we haven't seen each other in years as our husbands have been on different projects.
Last week I saw on facebook that my friend was having a birthday so I sent a birthday greeting. I got a message back from her husband that she was in the hospital and dying of breast cancer. OMG. I had no clue. She is someone I consider one of my best ex-pat friends. This was sad news indeed. Then yesterday I got on the computer to see another message from "her". Her husband wrote that she had died the previous night and the funeral was Friday. I had to cry and I am still tearing up that my friend had kept her illness pretty much a secret from a lot of us ex-pat friends and that I never had a chance to say goodbye and tell her how much I valued her friendship and enjoyed her company.
My friend was delightful. She had a wickedly droll sense of humor. Often on a comment of hers I would pause and think "she did NOT just say that" before dissolving into laughter over the comedy of it and the situation of it. We shared an unusual life in Korea in a small town for awhile and then her husband moved on to a rotational existence and she settled down in the Pacific Northwest. Part of our time together was in Houston also. They had a weird dog and let me walk it on occasion which was difficult because everyone wanted to come see what kind of dog it was but the dog was adamant about getting into fights with any other male dog. So I'd cross the street continually to avoid other dogs. What I didn't realize even then was my friend was probably struggling with cancer and it was probably a relief to have someone take care of the dog. But that's conjecture on my part. It was nice for me because I didn't want a full time dog responsibility but walking their dog was good.
She had wonderful stories as well. Her heritage was Japanese and some of her stories of her grandmother trying to survive the war were bitter sweet comedies of errors and bad luck at the beginning and good luck at the end. Her other stories were equally cool as she could deliver a story dead serious only to have you falling down in laughter later. She was very patient as an ex-pat wife has to be when her husband is only home every other month to fix things around the house and yet she was also good at getting it done herself when needed.
I should have realized that her Facebook comments were getting scattered and few and far between but time passes rather quickly for me and I just hadn't a clue. Her husband told me that she had been diagnosed 18 years ago with breast cancer so the entire time I knew her, she never said a word. I wish she had let me help her, in any way I could have. But she was always fun to be with and upbeat and the only time I heard her complain was when she was tired of having a part time husband, which we all complain about when our husbands are on rotation. She never complained about her health although I think that briefly she might have mentioned it in passing when she was better. So briefly that I'm not sure if she did or not. So I salute my friend and her steadfastness and determination to beat this thing and am very, very sorry that she has finally lost the battle. Since I cannot make the funeral, I will honor her in my own way by posting this for our mutual friends to see, they will know who CS is. And I will make a donation to some good breast cancer fund in her name. And I will even wear pink ribbons when the time is right for breast cancer campaigns. Good luck and keep well to her husband and daughter and her family members left behind. Goodbye CS. Bless you and keep you. I love you and miss you.
Last week I saw on facebook that my friend was having a birthday so I sent a birthday greeting. I got a message back from her husband that she was in the hospital and dying of breast cancer. OMG. I had no clue. She is someone I consider one of my best ex-pat friends. This was sad news indeed. Then yesterday I got on the computer to see another message from "her". Her husband wrote that she had died the previous night and the funeral was Friday. I had to cry and I am still tearing up that my friend had kept her illness pretty much a secret from a lot of us ex-pat friends and that I never had a chance to say goodbye and tell her how much I valued her friendship and enjoyed her company.
My friend was delightful. She had a wickedly droll sense of humor. Often on a comment of hers I would pause and think "she did NOT just say that" before dissolving into laughter over the comedy of it and the situation of it. We shared an unusual life in Korea in a small town for awhile and then her husband moved on to a rotational existence and she settled down in the Pacific Northwest. Part of our time together was in Houston also. They had a weird dog and let me walk it on occasion which was difficult because everyone wanted to come see what kind of dog it was but the dog was adamant about getting into fights with any other male dog. So I'd cross the street continually to avoid other dogs. What I didn't realize even then was my friend was probably struggling with cancer and it was probably a relief to have someone take care of the dog. But that's conjecture on my part. It was nice for me because I didn't want a full time dog responsibility but walking their dog was good.
She had wonderful stories as well. Her heritage was Japanese and some of her stories of her grandmother trying to survive the war were bitter sweet comedies of errors and bad luck at the beginning and good luck at the end. Her other stories were equally cool as she could deliver a story dead serious only to have you falling down in laughter later. She was very patient as an ex-pat wife has to be when her husband is only home every other month to fix things around the house and yet she was also good at getting it done herself when needed.
I should have realized that her Facebook comments were getting scattered and few and far between but time passes rather quickly for me and I just hadn't a clue. Her husband told me that she had been diagnosed 18 years ago with breast cancer so the entire time I knew her, she never said a word. I wish she had let me help her, in any way I could have. But she was always fun to be with and upbeat and the only time I heard her complain was when she was tired of having a part time husband, which we all complain about when our husbands are on rotation. She never complained about her health although I think that briefly she might have mentioned it in passing when she was better. So briefly that I'm not sure if she did or not. So I salute my friend and her steadfastness and determination to beat this thing and am very, very sorry that she has finally lost the battle. Since I cannot make the funeral, I will honor her in my own way by posting this for our mutual friends to see, they will know who CS is. And I will make a donation to some good breast cancer fund in her name. And I will even wear pink ribbons when the time is right for breast cancer campaigns. Good luck and keep well to her husband and daughter and her family members left behind. Goodbye CS. Bless you and keep you. I love you and miss you.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Venting Inside
Ha ha, bet you thought this was going to be a blog about ranting and raving and venting all your feelings inside. Wrong. It's about weather and winter and how it's getting colder and the days are getting shorter and when the sun goes down, it starts getting pretty chilly in the house. We learned this trick a long time ago to help put some heat in the house and also some moisture as it gets pretty dry. Once we are fairly sure the warm days are gone, we pull the dryer vent hose into the house, block up the hole that it goes through to the outside, put one hose (as in panty hose) over the end to catch all the dryer lint, and voila! Every time we use the dryer now, we have additional heat entering the house and also some moisture. And by using dryer sheets, we get a nice lavender or citrus smell through the house as well.
We've done this for years. In Houston, doesn't last very long, just a few months that it is necessary to get the heat. When we have lived in colder climates, it really makes a difference and saves a bunch of energy. Our house in England has a wonderfully big room that used to be a garage. It has a very high ceiling and is definitely the coldest room in the house during the winter. Usually we are sitting in there watching TV and wrapped up in quilts with small space heaters turned towards us. Yesterday I had the dryer vented into the house and we watched TV in comfort. Didn't need to wrap up in quilts. So my challenge will now be to make sure I have something to dry whenever we want to sit in that room and watch TV. OK, not going to happen every night but it will help some nights.
We've done this for years. In Houston, doesn't last very long, just a few months that it is necessary to get the heat. When we have lived in colder climates, it really makes a difference and saves a bunch of energy. Our house in England has a wonderfully big room that used to be a garage. It has a very high ceiling and is definitely the coldest room in the house during the winter. Usually we are sitting in there watching TV and wrapped up in quilts with small space heaters turned towards us. Yesterday I had the dryer vented into the house and we watched TV in comfort. Didn't need to wrap up in quilts. So my challenge will now be to make sure I have something to dry whenever we want to sit in that room and watch TV. OK, not going to happen every night but it will help some nights.
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Evil Lurking - Gnomes in Danger
You would think that if a back garden is full of wonderful nuts and suet and mealworms and such, that the squirrels and magpies and wood pigeons would be happy. Plus the stray cats that wander through the garden. There's always some cat food or fox food out for them and the foxes and badgers. I feed everything that wanders through my house or garden, two feet or four or wings. I try to keep them all happy so that (1) my cats can see them from the windows and enjoy the spectacle, (2) I like to watch them all, and (3) if they are full, maybe they won't eat each other!
My fish pond provides water for almost all the animals. I have seen cats, squirrels, pigeons, jays, crows, starlings, and foxes drink from it. Most of them are quite content to not bother the fish who I think have gotten smart enough to hide under the lily pads when there are shadows lurking above. Around my pond I have a number of garden gnomes. They aren't super special gnomes (my two antique gnomes live close to the house so they don't get knocked over), but just your average gnomes with a few of them holding solar lights. There is a ledge around my pond and none of the gnomes are standing on the ledge but are all slightly back from the ledge and on the deck itself.
Apparently this is not a safe place no matter how far back I put the gnomes. For several days I have seen a vague red shape at the bottom of the pond but the water isn't quite clear enough most days so I couldn't tell what it was. Today I suddenly realized, as I counted my gnomes, that it was one of the solar gnomes, sitting on the bottom of the pond, doing an impression of a frogman with a lantern! Shades of evil squirrels or pigeons or cats or whatever. Some four footed creature has knocked a gnome into the pond again! This happens ever so often which is why the gnomes are moving slowly away from the pond each time I fish one out again. Dang it because it was a solar gnome too and his lantern will probably never light again. Those little four footed demons who, for some inexplicable reason, must hate sharing the pond space with inanimate objects that smile at them. The only way to get one into the pond it so nudge it forward until it touches the ledge and then push hard to get it to topple over and into the pond. And for some amazing reason, the gnomes always land on their feet so they are standing in the pond beneath the surface waiting for rescue. Poor gnomes. This one took several days to rescue.
But I am generous in nature and spirit and will not punish my four footed freeloaders because they still are fun to watch. I'd just really like to catch one in action to see who is pushing the gnomes into the pond and how exactly they are doing it. There is some evil lurking in the back garden.
My fish pond provides water for almost all the animals. I have seen cats, squirrels, pigeons, jays, crows, starlings, and foxes drink from it. Most of them are quite content to not bother the fish who I think have gotten smart enough to hide under the lily pads when there are shadows lurking above. Around my pond I have a number of garden gnomes. They aren't super special gnomes (my two antique gnomes live close to the house so they don't get knocked over), but just your average gnomes with a few of them holding solar lights. There is a ledge around my pond and none of the gnomes are standing on the ledge but are all slightly back from the ledge and on the deck itself.
Apparently this is not a safe place no matter how far back I put the gnomes. For several days I have seen a vague red shape at the bottom of the pond but the water isn't quite clear enough most days so I couldn't tell what it was. Today I suddenly realized, as I counted my gnomes, that it was one of the solar gnomes, sitting on the bottom of the pond, doing an impression of a frogman with a lantern! Shades of evil squirrels or pigeons or cats or whatever. Some four footed creature has knocked a gnome into the pond again! This happens ever so often which is why the gnomes are moving slowly away from the pond each time I fish one out again. Dang it because it was a solar gnome too and his lantern will probably never light again. Those little four footed demons who, for some inexplicable reason, must hate sharing the pond space with inanimate objects that smile at them. The only way to get one into the pond it so nudge it forward until it touches the ledge and then push hard to get it to topple over and into the pond. And for some amazing reason, the gnomes always land on their feet so they are standing in the pond beneath the surface waiting for rescue. Poor gnomes. This one took several days to rescue.
But I am generous in nature and spirit and will not punish my four footed freeloaders because they still are fun to watch. I'd just really like to catch one in action to see who is pushing the gnomes into the pond and how exactly they are doing it. There is some evil lurking in the back garden.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Un-useable Toilet Paper
Hmmm, yes, it does sound like this could be a short blog about something quite nasty but in reality it isn't and a really simple explanation as to why there is toilet paper sitting in our bathroom and we can't use it - ever. We have a small window in the master bath with no curtains or shade on it. While it is small and our house overlooks the first hole of a golf course, a friend once told me "those caddies all have binoculars!" True or not, I am not taking chances. I placed a large Chinese vase in the window with sprigs of eucalyptus coming from it. As that did not take up the entire shelf of the window, I also placed our spare toilet paper rolls up there. It was easy to turn around and grab one if needs be, at the proper time.
When my daughters cat moved in with us, we discovered that he is infinitely curious and will get up on anything, anywhere, anytime, to look out a window, see what's there, or whatever else goes through a cat's mind. My daughter's cat is beautiful but for a cat, he is somewhat a bit clumsy too. So far he has knocked off and broken: a tea pot, a mug, a couple of wooden boxes, a troll from Noway, a tray, and probably more. I have taken down almost everything from my shelves and window sills, wherever he might jump and knock over something. My loft is now full of my wonderful treasures that aren't safe around him. HOWEVER, that said, it's all ok because he's a lovely cat and quite fun and entertaining to have around. Hopefully he will become more graceful as he gets older or will get jaded and not get up on so many enticing platforms (yea, right!).
Back to the bathroom. I don't want to take down the Chinese vase because of caddies with their binoculars - ha ha and it does make me feel a bit more private to know anyone out there will have a difficult time looking through that window. BUT that means the toilet paper must remain undisturbed and un-use-able sitting in the window on either side of the Chinese vase to protect it and keep the shelf fully occupied and unavailable to curious cats. So you see, quite innocent that my toilet paper is un-use-able and will sit there forever in it's pristine roll just holding the spot.
When my daughters cat moved in with us, we discovered that he is infinitely curious and will get up on anything, anywhere, anytime, to look out a window, see what's there, or whatever else goes through a cat's mind. My daughter's cat is beautiful but for a cat, he is somewhat a bit clumsy too. So far he has knocked off and broken: a tea pot, a mug, a couple of wooden boxes, a troll from Noway, a tray, and probably more. I have taken down almost everything from my shelves and window sills, wherever he might jump and knock over something. My loft is now full of my wonderful treasures that aren't safe around him. HOWEVER, that said, it's all ok because he's a lovely cat and quite fun and entertaining to have around. Hopefully he will become more graceful as he gets older or will get jaded and not get up on so many enticing platforms (yea, right!).
Back to the bathroom. I don't want to take down the Chinese vase because of caddies with their binoculars - ha ha and it does make me feel a bit more private to know anyone out there will have a difficult time looking through that window. BUT that means the toilet paper must remain undisturbed and un-use-able sitting in the window on either side of the Chinese vase to protect it and keep the shelf fully occupied and unavailable to curious cats. So you see, quite innocent that my toilet paper is un-use-able and will sit there forever in it's pristine roll just holding the spot.
Monday, October 28, 2013
WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE!
Stopped in at the veterinary the other day to pick up some cat food for my and my daughter's lovelies at home, the sweet furbabies that we love so much and that are adorable and loving and affectionate. The vet has this deal where if you buy 5 bags of a certain kind of cat food, any size, you get the 6th bag free, same size. So, even though it is not the favorite brand of our cats, we get the dental diet there occasionally and they love that one well enough. Had to wait as the vet assistant was helping another client with a very cute pug dog. When finished, I stepped up with my bag of cat food. She's busy typing on the computer and I figure she's finishing up with the pug dog information. Finally she turns to me and says 13.45 pounds please.
Hmmm, I want credit for my bags of cat food so I'll get my free one. So I say, "don't you want to put it on my account so I can get my free bag later?" and she says to me "I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. YOU HAVE A REPUTATION!" OMG.
Well, of course, she actually meant they know my sweet baboo, my wonderfully affectionate, loving, friendly, sit on my lap whenever possible to purr, sleep beside me at night, follow me into the bathroom whenever she can, get jealous if I pay attention to other cats Godiva. She's my cat just as much as one of the other cats is my hubby's and the third one is my daughter's. They all have their favorite human "toy".
Godiva is a Siamese and a wonderfully mixed color. All three are rescue cats, meaning we found them at an adoption center. My lovely furbaby took about 3 years before she became a true lap cat and began searching me out for petting and just to be near me. She's now 9 1/2 years old. At a young age, maybe 2, we had a bad experience with a vet in Houston who hurt Godiva in a way that she's never forgiven or forgotten. Since that time, there has been a Doctor Jeckle and Ms. Hyde transformation that comes over my sweet baboo whenever she enters a vets office, and even often when she is in the car riding to the vet's office. Everyone knows that cats can tell when they are on the way to the vet.
My loving kitty turns into a Tasmanian Devil, a cornered badger, a captive wolverine, a fighting rooster with spurs, or in other words, she gets as defensive and mean and nasty as she possibly can. Now, my kitty will NOT bite me or my daughter or my husband IF (and that's a big IF) she knows it's our hand there holding on to her and IF she's not scared and in pain. Once she got her foot caught in a rattan chair and fell off so she was hanging and screaming and struggling to get free. My daughter rescued her but got bit accidentally in the action. In that instance, I think Godiva would have bit anything close to her. But many times, I have been to the vet and held her while they take her temperature or give her a shot and she will be struggling and hissing and growling for all she's worth and trying to bite but will stop when she sees it's my hand holding her.
That said, it's extremely hard to hold her when she's struggling. she's an expert at wriggling free, even out of the neck scruff which almost always will immobilize a cat. Not her. She's so furry that it's hard to get a scruff on her. So usually it's me holding her and an assistant also trying to hold her and the poor vet trying to do something necessary because my baby is sick and everyone trying to avoid getting bit or scratched..
Once we had to take her to the emergency vet late at night. I got her out of the cage and this new vet was very afraid that she would bite me so she said "I have trained people who can hold her". As I really hate being a part of causing pain to my kitty, I said sure so we put her back in her cage and the vet took her into the back part of the surgery and we went out to the waiting room to - well, wait! Ten minutes later, we hadn't heard anything when the door opens the the vet steps out and says, "We can't get her out of the cage!". so I had to go back in the room, dump her out of the cage again, and hold her while the vet checked her and gave her a shot. So much for trained personnel.
On a different vet visit, the vet was really trying hard to listen to her chest and lungs and take her temperature. Godiva was screaming and howling and hissing for all she was worth. When I finally walked out of the treatment room, every single person in the waiting room was staring at me with expressions of horror and shock on their faces. I know they thought we were torturing her and killing her in that room. Even the dogs were sitting there quietly and quivering as if they were definitely afraid to go into the torture chamber next.
So you see, Godiva has quite the reputation and since I am the one that always takes her to the vet, apparently I am easily recognizable now as the "devil's owner". At the end of the day though, I got credit for purchasing my bag of cat food which Godiva will eat with great pleasure and after another bag or two, I'll get a free bag. That's all I wanted.
Hmmm, I want credit for my bags of cat food so I'll get my free one. So I say, "don't you want to put it on my account so I can get my free bag later?" and she says to me "I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. YOU HAVE A REPUTATION!" OMG.
Well, of course, she actually meant they know my sweet baboo, my wonderfully affectionate, loving, friendly, sit on my lap whenever possible to purr, sleep beside me at night, follow me into the bathroom whenever she can, get jealous if I pay attention to other cats Godiva. She's my cat just as much as one of the other cats is my hubby's and the third one is my daughter's. They all have their favorite human "toy".
Godiva is a Siamese and a wonderfully mixed color. All three are rescue cats, meaning we found them at an adoption center. My lovely furbaby took about 3 years before she became a true lap cat and began searching me out for petting and just to be near me. She's now 9 1/2 years old. At a young age, maybe 2, we had a bad experience with a vet in Houston who hurt Godiva in a way that she's never forgiven or forgotten. Since that time, there has been a Doctor Jeckle and Ms. Hyde transformation that comes over my sweet baboo whenever she enters a vets office, and even often when she is in the car riding to the vet's office. Everyone knows that cats can tell when they are on the way to the vet.
My loving kitty turns into a Tasmanian Devil, a cornered badger, a captive wolverine, a fighting rooster with spurs, or in other words, she gets as defensive and mean and nasty as she possibly can. Now, my kitty will NOT bite me or my daughter or my husband IF (and that's a big IF) she knows it's our hand there holding on to her and IF she's not scared and in pain. Once she got her foot caught in a rattan chair and fell off so she was hanging and screaming and struggling to get free. My daughter rescued her but got bit accidentally in the action. In that instance, I think Godiva would have bit anything close to her. But many times, I have been to the vet and held her while they take her temperature or give her a shot and she will be struggling and hissing and growling for all she's worth and trying to bite but will stop when she sees it's my hand holding her.
That said, it's extremely hard to hold her when she's struggling. she's an expert at wriggling free, even out of the neck scruff which almost always will immobilize a cat. Not her. She's so furry that it's hard to get a scruff on her. So usually it's me holding her and an assistant also trying to hold her and the poor vet trying to do something necessary because my baby is sick and everyone trying to avoid getting bit or scratched..
Once we had to take her to the emergency vet late at night. I got her out of the cage and this new vet was very afraid that she would bite me so she said "I have trained people who can hold her". As I really hate being a part of causing pain to my kitty, I said sure so we put her back in her cage and the vet took her into the back part of the surgery and we went out to the waiting room to - well, wait! Ten minutes later, we hadn't heard anything when the door opens the the vet steps out and says, "We can't get her out of the cage!". so I had to go back in the room, dump her out of the cage again, and hold her while the vet checked her and gave her a shot. So much for trained personnel.
On a different vet visit, the vet was really trying hard to listen to her chest and lungs and take her temperature. Godiva was screaming and howling and hissing for all she was worth. When I finally walked out of the treatment room, every single person in the waiting room was staring at me with expressions of horror and shock on their faces. I know they thought we were torturing her and killing her in that room. Even the dogs were sitting there quietly and quivering as if they were definitely afraid to go into the torture chamber next.
So you see, Godiva has quite the reputation and since I am the one that always takes her to the vet, apparently I am easily recognizable now as the "devil's owner". At the end of the day though, I got credit for purchasing my bag of cat food which Godiva will eat with great pleasure and after another bag or two, I'll get a free bag. That's all I wanted.
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