October 2016 – Hot Dog Cool Cats

Starting Right Now I’ll Be Strong

So…somewhere, somehow, in the wee hours of the morning, as Itty Bitty (Momma’s sister) went from the Neurology Floor to Cardiac Care, all h-e-double-l took place and like a game of Hot Potato, Itty Bitty got passed on…to Intensive Care…

How do you put Humpty Dumpty together again? Very carefully... CrackedEgg Fr. Morguefile — How do you put Humpty Dumpty together again? Very carefully…
CrackedEgg Fr. Morguefile

Where only the most brilliant, the most dedicated of medical staff tend to your medical disasters trying to put Humpty Dumpty together again.

Have you ever felt like a doctor was drowning you, absolutely throwing buckets and buckets of information over your slow-to-assimilate-head? Meet Dr. Information-On-Steroids. Should you be fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to end up in her war zone, she will go to battle for you…she’ll treat you like you are her own mother, she said, she did….she will speed read and absorb your file, knowing if you had a hang nail ten years ago, asking questions about the patient that baffle and bewilder you. Is she an Einstein, a Psychic or the Good Lord Herself?

Itty Bitty's Super Boy...wake me up before you go-go... — Itty Bitty’s Super Boy…wake me up before you go-go…

Dr. Information-On-Steroids told poor innocent Super Boy she was putting his mother on life support and he said , ‘Well then, I’ll just be off to work’ … And she said, ‘What??? You are off to work. I may rupture a kidney, tear her stomach wall and you are… off to work???? I probably won’t. I am very good doctor but still…don’t you think you could wait until I completed the life support system procedure?’ ‘Yeah, I could do that,’ stammered Super Boy.

So, you may be curious, what happened to Itty Bitty exactly? The Perfect Storm – multiple total organ failure (Kidneys, lung, heart) pneumonia and, oh, a heart attack… Made that ulcerated diabetic foot with gangrene about to set in, seem like a walk in the park. Now Itty Bitty would have lots to complain about, well, if she wasn’t in a coma on life support. As our Uncle Patriarch would say, ‘Always something to take the joy out of your living.’

Applying layers of healing to poor, sick Itty Bitty Baby.

Dr. Information-On-Steroids wasn’t done yet. No, no Momma had to know the facts, the statistics, the possibilities. Had Itty Bitty been ten years older and in the same condition Dr. Information-On-Steroids would not have resuscitated her. Okay…good to know… I guess. It seemed there would be no more Sprints, only Marathons for Itty Bitty… The good news was 59% of patients made it through the initial crash with Dr. Information-On-Steroids help (be it the car crash, heart attack, organ failure or idiot drug overdose – her choice of words, not Momma’s. But the bad news was only 19% of Multiple Organ Failure patients lived longer than a year. Now that was a good soaking with a bucket of icy water. Breath, Momma, Breath.

There is a certain chaotic rhythm to any ICU where monitors glow, numbers change rapidly, graphs rise and fall while the ventilator hisses and gurgles… a multitude of beeps, then the alarms…apnea alert … blood pressure rising…oxygen level slipping…it is not the place to catch 40 winks, well, unless you are in a coma, of course….that helps. Oh, and only two visitors at time…got to keep room around the bed just in case the crash cart is needed.

Yeah, a lot to absorb… doesn’t help when a body feels punch drunk from sleep deprivation. But… read my lips … better days ahead!

Itty Bitty...I still got... a lot of fight left in me.... — More healing hands for Itty Bitty…I still got… a lot of fight left in me….

Starting Right Now She’ll Be Strong…Cause she’s still got a lot of fight left in her..

If Only You Believe, On A Moonlit Night

If only you believe, on a Moonlight Night, the Fairies will reveal themselves, frolicking among the flowers, skirting the stepping-stones….
Peeking out from behind the miniature roses & Impatiens,

Tutus the color of rainbows.... From Morguefile.com ING 1554 By: Violet Dragonfly — Tutus the color of **rainbows**….
From Morguefile.com
ING 1554 By: Violet Dragonfly

Their tiny iridescent wings & tutus the colors of a rainbow,
As they prepare for Circle of the Fairy Dance, in the flower garden.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the neighborhood, across the street from the flower garden, a victim of cancer, chose to forego traditional treatment so as not to prolong the agony.
Abandoned by the medical world, she struggled to find relief from the pain, with Jack Daniels.
Her options narrowed, and she lost the fight to live, while man’s best friend,

Fairy and angel in the gaden. — Fairy and angel in the garden.

her faithful dog, guarded her bedside from harms way.
When her spirit finally escaped the shell of her wasted body,
we believe, the Fairies , in the flower garden, across the street, paused, to welcome the latest member to join the Circle of the Fairy Dance.

Look at these tiny little Garden Fairies, relaxing before the Circle of the Fairy Dance has them twirling on their toes, to music only they can hear. — Preparing for **Circle of the Fairy Dance.**

So on a moonlight night, if you take the time to enjoy the flower garden
You just may see the Circle of the Fairy Dance with a new Lead Ballerina

Her earthly tribulations behind her, she twirls effortlessly in pink satin slippers, her gossamer wings & tutu, the very color of the powder rose petals.

Ballet slippers From Morguefile.com File 5471309965933 KaKisky — Ballet slippers
From Morguefile.com
File 5471309965933 KaKisky

If only you believe.

Trying to Get A Message to You

So…let’s talk about Momma….again. Oh, she thinks she is perfect but as Grandmama would say…Momma could cramp a saint… take walk times. Sometimes, like she should (it’s in my Policy and Procedures for All Creation), Momma says. ‘Walk time, Jakita’….and she actually proceeds to the door, gets my leash around my neck and we are off.

The Dawning of the Age of Aquarius... — The Dawning of the Age of Aquarius…

I have to admits, sometimes I can be the hold up… if I was caught in a nap. I take my jolly old-time, shake my head, do the downward stretch, shake my head some more, stumble over to the food dish…a dog has to have energy to exercise.

Okay, okay, I admit, there is no fault to be assigned because I am an Ultimate Einstein Earth Dog (think Earth, Virgo, detail fixated even if a was born in the Age of Aquarius) that tells time better than GMT (Greenwich Mean Time). Set your world clock by me, you will not be off a nanosecond.

But mostly, it is, well, blame Momma. Take today. Momma set off, as she always does, somewhere around the ninth hour in the morning (after the school children are safely at school) to go to 1,2,3 stores… every day, 3 different stores. At this rate the money may not last as long as we will. The drug store was a must because it was 20% off day and somehow she had broken her hand-held mirror. Isn’t that seven years bad luck? The amount of mirrors Momma breaks, her time on earth will run out long before her bad luck.

Next, realizing tomorrow was for Thanksgiving Day dinner preparation, Momma had to buy her beloved one a day (like a vitamin pill) glazed donuts because Monday, the stores are shuttered to honor all sacrificed turkeys. Come Tuesday, the public will all be suffering a compulsive shopping disorder, pushing and shoving, emptying shelves… not a good scene. You got to be like Momma and plan ahead to make sure your donut addiction is satisfied.

The last store was just a couple of things, keep the cats soft food inventory stable, and turnips for the Thanksgiving dinner… they had to be bought at this particular store because, well the good soul who grew up in ‘the day’ worked in produce and would cheerfully quarter her turnips for her. Imagine asking a millennial … their expression, God Bless Them, would tell you, ‘Cut your own friggidy diggidy turnips’…..

All this being said, by the time Momma returned home, she was late for our usually scheduled walk… so, say you…did she drop everything and take you out the door? Well no, Momma also had laundry going on. First load had to be folded and put away (you can’t have bath towels wrinkling, I guess LOL), then the second load had to be transferred from the washer to the dryer.

Then, there was groceries to put away, (can’t have the glaze sliding off the donuts), a mirror to assigned a home, paper towels to be replaced, a charge card receipt to be filed…the list went on and on and on. So, surely we are ready Momma… Almost… You know that fake fern that sits outside all summer, seems it has to be brought inside, now, right now or Momma being Momma, might forget it outside all winter, where the howling Arctic winds, sleet, ice, snow would absolutely, reveal its secret…it is artificial…like some of those Two Footed with their enhanced bodies and to ‘dye’ for or transplanted hair…Got it Momma.

Patience is a virtue…Momma finally exhausted her list of tasks and me, (just watching her). She got down the leash and we were off on our walk, savoring the autumn sunshine, crackling leaves and flowers breathtakingly magnificent.

I forgive you this time Momma, but next time, I expect you to do better. Are you listening, Momma?

You Have Become A Butterfly

My pin up picture..... — My pin up picture…..

Oh, I have so much to tell you because so much has happened, it is hard to even wrap my Calico head around it….but it is all good.

As you know, my past sins of omission (rather than comission) left me with huge thick dread locks of fur gone wild, like camel humps, growing indiscriminately over my body…all because I was too paranoid to live upstairs.

No, my home, I decided, was in the dank, dark basement and crawl space, taking and obeying orders from the Dictator and Chief, Cat Mandu who left me behind while she socialized with the Two Footed upstairs, as well as to run in and outdoors at will. I only approached the top of the stairs to reach my feeding station and then I was obnoxious with any cat that came near, hissing and growling to drive them away. Still, I would venture upstairs at night to alert Momma if Mandu had gone outside and not been let back in because, well, I did not want to sleep alone….

Easy to catch a pink cloud that night.... — Easy to catch a **pink cloud** that night….

But you know what happened…the Dictator and Chief, Cat Mandu caught her Pink Cloud to Paradise and like the Cheese in the Farmer-In-the-Dell, I was left alone. So, I had a meeting with myself and decided…really, get a grip, try it, you’ll like it….so as Momma liked to say, I did a metamorphosis from a caterpillar into a butterfly, like overnight.

I started slowly, hanging at the top of the basement stairs, stepping in to the kitchen, walking in further to claim the rug (that says the Cats Housekeeper lives here) in front of the fridge. Soon I was brave enough to stake out Jakita’s Doggie pillow under the kitchen table. I got a jaded look but no push back…Jakita is the sweetest dog ever. In no time I was eyeing the hallway to the dining room, then Momma’s bedroom.

Choose Love, Peace and Rainbows.... — Choose Love, Peace and Rainbows….

I knew that was sacred ground, a Safe Zone, like a Refugee Camp, where you can feel safe and protected from the hostilities of the world.

The routine was born. Every day I would sleep away the hours on Momma’s bed. Every night I would sit in front of her bedroom, trying to corral her inside so that I could wedge myself beside her but even that has its own peculiar ritual. I start on her right side, then step over her body to the left side. In the morning as she stirs herself awake, I move over to the right side so I can purr and lick her awake. I am depending on her to be there for me so I have got to make sure she is alert. No more Cat Mandu to protect me… come to think of it, works for me.

I, Charlie, admit I do look a tad racoonish but look at the exquisite calico markings. Please be polite and ignore my camel humps of fur - just beware, that is what comes from one to many nights in the Crawl Space with Kat Mandu as my Mentor. — Please be polite and ignore my camel humps of fur – just beware, that is what comes from one to many nights in the Crawl Space with Cat Mandu as my Mentor.

Still, ten years of choosing to live in the basement wreaked havoc on my coarse fur… I looked like a Feral, albeit a fat feral (which there is no such thing) but Wonder Boy, had the patience, the fix… All I had to do was trust him and Abracadabra the camels humps of fur would be gone… Spread your wings, prepare to fly….for you have become… a butterfly (Walter Afanasieff , Mariah Carey paraphrase )…If only, you Believe…..

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