One Love

Isn't One Love a good name for an animal hospital?  Glenwood and I went to see Dr. Ryan in her new milieu today and got a full tour.  We both got treats, too:  Milk Duds for me and a peacock feather for her.  Timmy has already managed to arrange the feather beside him on his pillow, just so it doesn't get away.

The hospital is light and happy.  Dr. Humphreys, a wonderful doctor I met when Riley had to go to the ER, is also in the practice.  Four giant chickens were dropped off (in a cage, thankfully), and he was strangely elated.  They were moved to the back room awaiting transfer to his backyard (and ultimately his in-laws' horse farm) and kept crowing (clucking?  squawking?), and everyone was smiling.

So, Drs. Ryan and Humphrey confirmed the Baytril didn't work, and now Glenwood has bacon-smelling pinkish stuff in her ear (reminds me of Caladryl) and got an antibiotic shot.  She goes back Saturday for a vacuuming-out of the pinkish stuff.

It should be noted that Glenwood typically stresses and squirms at the vet, and hides if she can.  But when Dr. Humphreys picked her up, she turned into a total flirty mush.  What's that about?

I wish One Love all the best.  And I wish Glenwood a bug- and goo-free ear.  It'll take some time to see if this new strategy works.

0-

The above title is Glenwood's typing.  I mean it.  She jumped up just as I started this post and is now comfortably lying above my keyboard, with one foot on the F8 key.  I hope that key doesn't empty my bank account.  But then again, it's already empty.  She just left, with a little gurgle.

Her ear infection continues.  It's been going on so long it's become normal, but it's not, and so we're off to the vet on Thursday.  Dr. Ryan has joined a different practice, and so we will be going there.  I will miss the kind people at Hope but feel my allegiance is to Dr. Ryan.  She saved my kitty, and she's great.

Glenwood broke more glass.  And if you think I'm an idiot for leaving glass out, I'm not.  It was the glass in a picture frame; she's not supposed to be able to do that.

Timmy Is THE Original Pillow Boy

Just Another Day

Glenwood has one eye open.   Experience proves that her thought bubble would read, "Enough of this napping.  Let's rock."

She pauses before applying the full stranglehold.

 Apparently, she's finished with Ibsen and considering DH Lawrence's Women in Love.

She likes her art crooked.

And she likes Timmy.  Really.  Funny how much smaller she is yet how much havoc she creates for him.

And This Is the Thanks I Get

A Gift from the Chinman's

OK, it's a given that I love this kitten meeces to pieces, to lift a phrase from my Dad.  That said, she can make that very, very difficult, particularly in the wee hours.  The broken pitcher above is what I awoke to this morning.  It was a gift from dear family friends I've known since second grade.   In an act of crazy synchronicity, the breakage occurred because Glenwood knocked the plug from my dinghy off a shelf right into it.  (Yes, I have a dinghy.)  The dinghy was my father's (a Cape Dory named His Martin's Ship Bouncy) and was also given to me by the Chinman's.  My father (Marty) gifted it to them after we wrecked it in a boating accident, and they had the good sense to take it and repair it.  The dink sits in a yard in Marblehead waiting for me to claim it.  The plug is my reminder of it, and of years of wonderful sailing with my family and the Chinman's, and of more wonderful sailing with the Chinman's after my parents' deaths.  It is a beautiful object itself, and quite heavy.

Plug from the HMS Bouncy

I've put away so many things that to have the few left out be targeted is disheartening.  Below is a morning present from months ago.  This was a gift from my brother and his wife when they were living in Singapore.

A Gift from Andrew and Gloria

How Time Flies

Today marks one year since I scooped up a smelly, flea-ridden, wormy, infected, emaciated, dehydrated, 1.2-pound, four-month-old, dying black puff of a kitten with a face sealed in mucous from behind an abandoned Brooklyn house and brought her home, where she lived in my bathroom for nine weeks while I assaulted her with food and meds ...

... trying not to infect Big Timmy, who lurked outside the bathroom door all those weeks.  Amazing.

Glenwood now weighs 8.4 pounds and is the sweetest, softest, most loving terrorist around.  She sticks to me like glue except at night, when she removes books from the shelves, takes art from the walls, uses edibles for hockey, and sweeps anything off a tabletop.  The pre-sleep ritual I undergo to protect my things continues to expand.  At around 5 am I usually lock her out of the bedroom for a break.  She meows her little face off while periodically jumping up and smashing the doorknob with her little paw.  She is a toddler.  A toddler-terrorist.  A toddler-terrorist with a squirrel tail.

While it would be poetic to report her 100% healthy, this ear infection persists.  She's still on oral and aural Baytril plus an ear wash, and I'm still digging out Q-Tip-fulls of goo twice a day.  Does it stop her?  Not for a nanosecond.  I adore her, and she appears to like me pretty well.  Or at least my shoes.