In the Front Row

I was test-driving a video sequence for a proposal when who should sit in front of me?  As someone who's watched countless movies with a head-shaped hole in them (I'm five feet tall), this was nothing new.  It was even more challenging because she wasn't sitting still.

I think Timmy may have what(ever) Glenwood has, as he's been scratching his ear and the skin above his eye is inflamed.  It could also be a heat-type rash; he's been making like a rug during these brutally hot days.  I'm keeping an eye on him.  When I get the results for Glenwood this week, I'll update Dr. Ryan on Big Timmy and see where we go from here.

Goo Flash

I dropped off an ear goo sample at Hope this morning.  It's been delayed a bit, but Glenwood is in no distress.  She was so lovey-dovey this morning I could barely leave the house.  I should know results in a couple of days.

Figured It Out

This peculiar arrangement of kitten and corner is not unusual.  I've been nervous of something in the wall (a mouse?) but last night Sherri and I, geniuses that we are, realized that Glenwood is confronting her .... shadow.  As she moved closer of course it grew larger until it became such an obvious threat she had to extinguish it.  And again.  And again.  So in addition to her first nickname (Smudge, bestowed by Sherri many moons ago), she has another.  Introducing Glenwood Smudge Shadow Sweibel.

Riley, November 1, 1999-July 10, 2009

When I started to type the title of this post, I thought today was the anniversary of Riley's death, but thanks to Blogger's autofilling, I see it was yesterday.  How is it that I so anticipated this anniversary then missed it?  And I felt like crap yesterday, so it seems my interior knowledge was acting up when my consciousness was postponing.  It's a way of getting off the hook without getting off the hook, or perhaps hanging myself on another.


I continue to feel sure that Glenwood's personality is imbued with Riley's spirit.  Here's an example of how these two (who never met, of course, to exchange ideas) handle a heat wave:

I think Timmy also misses that funny little girl.

Here's a couple more of her just because.

Rest in peace, Riley.

Peas in a Pod

Glenwood's culture came back negative, which Dr. Ryan found odd since we know she's got something growing in there.  So I've been put on swab duty and will get another sample this week and bring it in for a do-over.

Swabbed and Waiting, and Maury

Glenwood and I went back to the vet Saturday for them to dig some goo out of her ear for culturing.  No problem with goo collection.  We await results, with no evidence that this kitten is feeling anything but fabulous.

A few months ago I read about Maury in an Infinite Hope fund-raising publication.  A woman had found him after he was hit by a car as a kitten, and brought him in.  His back half was a mess.  I've never been able to ask Dr. Ryan about him because he was so young and fragile and hurt, and I just didn't want the words said.

So Glenwood and I are sitting in the Hope waiting room, where the adoption cages are, and a tech comes in to attend to a beautiful tabby who had emptied his litter box all over the floor.  She called him Maury, and I said "MAURY???  THAT Maury?"  Maury made it!  He is very soft and has square paws, like Riley.  He's a really nice cat.  The problem is that he leaks.  His nerves in the rear half are shot and his bathroom habits are not quite under his control.  In fact, they have to "express" him to make sure he does his business.  They've tried acupuncture and everything else, but this is probably how Maury is going to be.  Dr. Ryan said if she wins the lottery she is going to build him his own room.

Persistent Pseudomonas

Glenwood's recheck did not go as smoothly as we wished; the infection is still there and seems stuck deep in her ear.  Dr. Ryan took her off meds and cleanings for a week to let the ear do its own thing, then she'll do a culture.  Since Baytril, the drug Glenwood was on, is a strong, broad-spectrum antibiotic, Dr. Ryan needs to know more about the cause to figure out what's next.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Glenwood wakens at 4.11 am and brings the whole house with her:  jumping on my bookshelf with family pictures (Get down!), on my mother's leaning bamboo bookshelf with a box of wooden spoons from a flea market and a framed Matisse postcard (Get down!), and on another bookshelf I've protectively decorated with wooden plates that she uses as frisbees (Get down!).  There's more, but you get the idea.  I feed her and Timmy to quiet her, then they bathe, then Glenwood has even more energy.  Somehow, I get a little more sleep between it all and wake-up time.

The thick heat has finally lifted though, so it is impossible to be cranky with this gorgeous, gorgeous day.  Thanks for checking in, and I'll post again soon.

Cool Cats

It was so hot and humid today that I worried for Glenwood, as she's been open-mouth panting.  That's not a good sign for cats, but Glenwood's fragility makes her more prone to it.  She's going back to Dr. Ryan Saturday to follow up on the ear infection, which I continue to treat.  I'm getting quite good with the Q-tips and digging out four pounds of goo twice daily.  Because I had my hands all over her for weeks while she was living in the bathroom, she allows me great liberties.

I went to Governor's Island for the first time today for an artist residency info session (wonderful) and left the air conditioner on for the cats.  (I don't use it much for me, but for them ... anything.)  Here they are luxuriating in the coolness, Glenwood on her chair and Timmy by his pillow.

Happy Birthday, Glenwood.

Today is Glenwood's first birthday and she's making old-man noises.  I just gave her some flax seed oil (she hates it) so she's glaring at me.  Since her birthday is somewhat random it's a little weird, and hard to believe.  She's been with me and Timmy since October 1.  Well, she's been with me since then; she didn't join Timmy until the Bathroom Release Fete on December 7.  Amazing.

She's So onto Me

I'm convinced Glenwood knows when the syringes, Q-tips, and cotton balls are coming out the nanosecond I think "time for meds."  No physical activity on my part is necessary.  She hides behind the DVD player, the tightest spot in the house.  The bird toy usually lures her out, but I can't find it.

I'm likewise convinced that both cats know I'm coming home as soon as I board the subway.

Glenwood continues to trust me to pet her silly while chatting to her, which is a point of nervousness when I'm just as likely to drip stuff in her ears.  But since she obviously has the timing down for the meds, she must know when it's safe to approach.

She is starting to try and take the art off the walls at 5.30 am, which is problematic.  She's also jumping on shelves I thought she'd never jump on, which means a lot of small glass objects have to be put away for awhile.  Timmy continues to lumber around when she's not chasing him, and is very affectionate with me, and I with him.

Deep Goo

Glenwood's re-check yesterday showed the infection is improved but not resolved.  So we've got ten more days of meds to go.  It seems it's settled in the turn of the ear canal, where it meets ... uh-oh.  I'm out of my league.  Whatever the turn meets, it means lots of massaging on my part to coax the meds down there.

There's two ear meds.  One to cleanse and the other to treat, 20 minutes later.  After her ear-cleansing med and rub, it's good if she shakes her head (and not hard to get her to do).  This morning, the shake sent ear goo flying.  Is it gross or what to clean kitten ear goo from a wall?  Anything for my little Glenwood.

The oral med is easy, once I catch her.  She is so onto me.

Limitation and Creativity

When I was in my first year at MassArt, the core courses had pretty strict assignments, which I sometimes wasn't too happy about.  (Art and Fear is the book to read on this one.)  Seventeen years later (can it be?), my studio is in my apartment and not the kind of big raw space I've always had and could beat up.  Between those two things and a zillion others, I've learned that limitation can be freeing.  (Andrea Zittel speaks of this very nicely in her Art:21 segment.)  Most recently, Glenwood occasionally occupies a section of my keyboard, and I wonder if writing without any of those keys might have me produce something really, really brilliant.

She is feeling better, which is great (except at 4 am) since her birthday is approaching and there is going to be a celebration.  It's June 21, I've decided.

See how her fur comes out between her toes?  I love that.  She is due for a mani-pedi, which Sherri kindly provides.  Just the noise the nailclipper makes turns my stomach, which is weird considering how much of her goo I had my hands in for her first several weeks with me.

Better Already

Glenwood is already down to near-zero old-man episodes, and her energy level has returned.  The former is fabulous, the latter not without its perils.  Her new wake-up time (thus, mine) is between 4.00 and 5.00 in the morning, and that has accumulated into enough sleep deprivation for me to be challenged to form sentences in the classroom.  I actually called in sick today at my other job because I was too exhausted to function.  But enough about me.  Here they are in a changing-places routine:  queen then king of the hill.

Pseudomonas Redux

Glenwood's visit to the vet yesterday revealed a new Pseudomonas infection in her left ear.  This is the same type of nasty infection that she came with.  Dr. Ryan was, as always, fabulous and thorough, and it's just that much more clear that Glenwood will always be delicate, despite all day-to-day evidence to the contrary.  So we've upped her supplements and started ear and oral meds.  It's a much smaller version of Still Life wtih Meds than in October-November, but a little sad to return to.

It was very, very hot and humid in Brooklyn yesterday, so by the time we got home from Hope Vet, Glenwood and I were stressed and gross.  I remember that Riley and Timmy always liked a good ice-cube rub when we lived in the loft, and so Glenwood got her first and loved it.  Here she is all rubbed down and relaxing, then staring in disbelief at the ice cubes floating in her water dish.

On another note, Sherri kept us company yesterday.  While Sherri's company is always welcome, my ulterior motive was to introduce her to Dr. Ryan so she will bring George and Sushi in for check-ups.  I think we got a little closer now that Sherri has first-hand experience with Dr. Ryan.  Here's big fat whiny George being tortured by Sherri, who was supposed to be studying.

And

Since I wrote earlier. Glenwood has found her tweety bird, has stopped her old-man sounds, and is back in full-attention mode.  (The flax oil seems to help but she hates it, and, worse, me with it.)  The tweeting is nonstop!  Still, I'm having Dr. Ryan take a look.

A Little Worried

Glenwood's old-man syndrome is worse, and I wonder whether the sudden heat and humidity are causing her to have a little trouble breathing.  It sounds sort of asthmatic, and sometimes makes her unable to eat until it passes.  I left a message at Hope Vet to make an appointment for Sunday.  It's unnerving, and a little more so since June 8, 2009, was Riley's diagnosis with congestive heart failure.  Anniversaries are brutal, and seem a bit thematic between this blog and my artist blog.

Glenwood Needs a Birthday

By Dr. Ryan's best estimates and Glenwood's teeth at the time, she was about four months old when I found her October 1.  That means her birthday is in June.  While June 1 is the obvious choice, maybe June 21 would be nice for her ....  Not sure, but if anyone wants to weigh in, please do ...

Glenwood seems healthy.  The raspy breathing is all but gone, unless she's snoring.  She does make the horrible noises old men make when they're choking, however.  It's startling to hear from this little body, and seems to be related to eating.  I wonder whether some food goes down the wrong pipe (my mother's technical language) and she's trying to exhale it.  She clearly does not like to throw up, unlike most cats, and I attribute that to her delicate feminine nature.

At almost a year old, Glenwood is the sweetest, funniest, softest, most personable kitten.  She's usually passed out between my keyboard and monitor, blocking access to certain keys.  That's between bouts of chasing the cursor, which has my screen covered with pawprints.  Never a dull moment.

A Priority Expenditure

I was in Target, where emerging with the strangest assortment of items is the norm (mascara, eggs, and a chair, for example), resisting 928 impulse purchases, when I saw this cat toy.  I could've resisted this too, except that it sings.  I liked walking through the store with a singing basket.

It's a huge hit with Glenwood.  One night she was flying across the doorway of the kitchen, every time she'd throw it up and down the hall to recapture.  She was airborne, so no way I'll be getting a focused picture.  (And it's a good thing the singing is sweet, because it's constant.  I put the bird in a drawer when I go to sleep.)

Timmy's not interested.  He's too grown up for such antics.  And, according to his previous mother (in a comment to my last post), the fridge is a re-habit, not a new habit.

She's Jewish!

Everyone knows a Jewish mother has Jewish offspring, but who knew it extended to a rescue kitten (especially one with the WASP-y name of Glenwood)?  But she is!  The bagel theft gave her away. The plastic bag it was in had a long tail, and she kept stepping on it as she ran from me, making for a bizarre chase.

Meanwhile, Timmy has taken to perching on top of the fridge, a new trick, and one I'd like to stop.  Yeah, right.

Cat and Mouse

She's quite the worker bee.  (I take unbelievable joy in this mousepad.)

Nighttime Antics

The evidence from last night's festivities suggests there was a hockey game, with the garlic serving as a puck.

And Back at the Ranch

So here's Timmy, just hanging out (literally) on my Van Gogh chair, when who should come along to disturb his peaceful contemplation of the floor but ... you guessed it ... Glenwood.

Paw-to-paw play-combat ensued.

For the Others

Walking to the subway along Flatbush Avenue early this morning, when I usually have my eyes down, I looked up to see a box in the doorway of a bank, and in the box was a cat.  It startled me.  The cat was sitting calmly and looked healthy, and the box was a nice box, so it seemed the cat had been cared for but abandoned.  This is how a perfectly good day collapses for me.  I stopped and looked at the cat, and it looked at me.  I had to go; my students were making presentations and I could not be late.  I walked away, then went back and looked again, considering the logistics if I were to scoop the cat.  I just couldn't; I left; I felt horrible and hypocritical waiting for the subway, and the day stayed like that.  Where are our loyalties?

On the way home, I debated whether to avoid the cat-spot or look, and decided to look (or I'd face more regret).  Cat and box were gone, and all I can do is hope that the cat is safe.

The Welcoming Committee

This is how I'm greeted as I exit the shower.  Of course, I do all my post-shower stuff so as not to disturb them (I ran to get the camera before they budged) no matter what kind of gymnastics are involved on my part.

A Healthy Senior (I Mean Timmy)

Timmy's results came from Dr. Ryan today, and he is perfect!  Svelte, functioning on the inside, and showing evidence of a wry sense of humor in his advancing years.  And his and Glenwood's raucous behavior (well, Glenwood's) has become almost exclusively playful and not hissful, though she just jumped onto his back from the desk while he lay in post-prandial splendor on his floor pillow.  That brought a little scuffle, now resolved.

The warm feeling I get when I'm on my way home and remember that I will see these two is wonderful.  I love home and could spend pretty much all the time here.  Having the fur things to care for (and be cared for by) makes it an even better place.  And with my emotions running high lately, they are soothing presences.

The Glenwood Diet

April is Senior Pet Wellness Month at Hope Vet so I schlepped Timmy in there today for a check-up.  Once in the exam room, the vet tech weighed him and was so surprised at the drop in weight that he got a different scale!  But the result was the same, as shown in the graph below, courtesy of Dr. Ryan.

While a big drop in kitty weight can be cause for concern (diabetes, etc.), Dr. Ryan didn't come close to panicking because she knew exactly how Timmy dropped the pounds:  running from Glenwood.  Yes, he occasionally chases her, but not enough to slim down so dramatically.  He looks svelte and wonderful, with no major tartar on his teeth and all else looking and sounding good.  His tests will be back in a week, so I'll post then (if not before).  I'd post a photo of him post-vet but he's had enough for today without me pointing a camera at him.

Glenwood is doing great (now that I'm back from the conference), except for some furball that's having her make these hacking noises (thankfully less horrifying than the barking she did while in heat).  Dr. Ryan suggested some flax oil.  Update to come.

The Audacity

I went to a conference for the last four days.  This was not a big hit with Glenwood; Timmy has the maturity to cope.  Sherri took care of them, but was treated to a redecorating most every visit.  The above shows what one maybe-seven-pound kitten can do to a tidy couch if determined.

When I came home there were pillow relocations like those above and even more dramatic alterations:  a wall shelf was crooked on the wall and its display items dispersed (most are still MIA).  Red-onion peels were scattered around, and the onion itself lodged under the fridge.  (She was playing hockey with garlic cloves last week.)

Back to (ab)normal.

Here's the Story

Glenwood is always right there when I get home.  She puts her little furry face right up to the door as I open it so I have to go in shouting No!  Get back!  Don't you dare!  and blocking the way with whatever I'm carrying.  Then I apologize for coming in so violently.  Timmy, meanwhile, sits on the table by the door and thinks about trying to run out, but never summons himself to act.  We all have a little love fest then off to the kitchen for dinner.  That's normal.

On Thursday, Timmy was at his post but no Glenwood.  When I shut the door behind me, I heard a plaintive meow from the coat closet.  I didn't see her shoot in there in the morning (I'm usually so careful!), but shoot in she did.  Twelve hours later she emerged, totally nonplussed and ready for food.  My coat closet, however, was trashed:

She'd pulled all the scarves off the hooks on the door, mauled a bagful of clothes headed for the Salvation Army, toppled the stack of kitty carriers and extra litter box, and moved the six-foot ladder (evidently so she could climb to the shelf and toss some gloves over the edge).  And while it was quite a scene, she didn't pee, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Placeholder

There was a hilarious moment chez Glenwood Thursday night, but I can't download the photo until early next week so the story must wait.  This bit of wrestling will have to suffice.  Look how big she's getting!  It's length mostly, not bulk.  She's still about a third of Timmy's weight, very lean.

But not mean!  Glenwood seems to be calming in her old age - 10 months (roughly) as of April 1.  She still chases Timmy like a lunatic, but there's much less hissing and much more play.  She's also become my shadow.  Like Riley, she follows me around and is with me all the time.

Kitty Party Cards

It's common knowledge that my recent months have been cat-focused. I wonder if I'll turn into a crazy old Brooklyn cat lady. I doubt it, but I am getting older tomorrow and noticing that cat birthday cards are coming in. My cousin bought the one above in London months ago and carted it back to the States. How great is that? Below you can see that Glenwood looks excellent in front of it. Timmy has been preoccupied with other things.

One White, Broken Whisker

Finally, she went to sleep in the right light when my camera was nearby.

Meet Wilson

My friends Mike and Leah's kitten, Wilson, was spayed the same day as Glenwood. Both kittens have ambiguous names that have people call them "he." None of the parents are very forgiving of that.

Wilson lives in Queens, where the veterinary community takes a whole other approach to post-spay fashion. No Elizabethan cone for Wilson, but instead a smart, well-fitted, sleeveless sweater, with a slight faux turtleneck. You'll note the sharp-edged armhole (leghole?) cutout reveals an adventurous approach, even as the color is decidedly conservative.

Glenwood at the Oscars

I'm a bit delayed in posting this, but Glenwood watched the Oscars wearing her best cone. She has a particular fondness for Alec Baldwin (understandable).

Glenwood and Timmy also spend time in the cat-food cupboard. There was little that the cone stopped Glenwood from doing, and the whole thing was hilarious. Glenwood just typed the following:

v

b

She is cone-free now and seems very happy. (Or is vb very bored? Uh-oh.) I'll post some new pictures soon. She just crawled into my lap.

Escape Artist

When I went out today, I closed Glenwood in my bedroom with her Elizabethan collar intact. When I got home and opened the door, she ran out collar-free. Here's what I found:

She's also enjoying her moments of freedom with Timmy (and the elephant).

Conewood

The deed is done; Glenwood was spayed yesterday. All went beautifully, and now she's home with her Elizabethan collar. Of course she's been hilarious, and her usual stubborn insistent self. Even with her in my bedroom and separated from Timmy most of the time, she's managed to stretch anyone's idea of what the day after surgery should be. Let's see, she:

• got under my dresser, wearing the cone
• chased Timmy, wearing the cone
• knocked down the luaun barrier I put up, wearing the cone (twice)
• edited an e-mail, wearing the cone (see below)
• unearthed new and lost toys, wearing the cone

I've taken it off a couple of times to give her a break and allow her some bathing time, but she of course doesn't note the incision in her shaved belly. So I keep her away from that until I've had enough of fencing and blocking and put the cone back on. Now I see she's bathing as if the cone weren't on, which means she gets into some weird position and licks the inside of the cone. She is also sleeping quite a bit, and purring a ridiculous amount.

And finally, finally, I got a photo of the one white, broken whisker, which she has somehow held onto all this time.

Sound of Silence

As soon as I walked in the door yesterday, I knew Glenwood was out of heat. The entire apartment felt different ... stilled. The howling, hyperhyperactive, crazed fur monster who had taken over her 6.7-pound body was gone and my kitten was back. It's like having a different animal, all sweetness now.

The spay is on for Friday. And if it doesn't quiet her down as I'd hoped before she went into heat, I will be fully satisfied never, ever to hear Glenwood bark again.