Trick or Treat

It's Halloween, which must have prompted Timmy to go undercover.

Timmy as a Curtain

I love watching people in costume in New York.  On my way to the college this morning, I followed a bunny ...

Halloween on Third Avenue

Glenwood, meanwhile, knows that her personality is too big to hide under any costume.  She has been the Lap Kitty of All Time lately, with the weather turning.  Here she's just playing cute until a lap formed.

Change of Plans

Glenwood, Two Years Later

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````I didn't miss the date in thought, but did miss````````````````````````````````````````````` noting it here (these interruptions are Glenwood, of course):  October 1 marked two years since I picked this little girl up, a pile of bones and stink and fur.  Here she is, all seven pounds of her (including the shadow).  Life hasn't changed much since I wrote a month ago:  she is spayed and goes into heat anyway, she's a morning person who wakes me up at 4-ish by throwing things off tabletops, she is sweet and funny beyond words.

We went to One Love yesterday to check out her ear infection and discuss the, um, reproductive issues.  Dr. Ryan, Dr. Ken, and I agreed that the ear gets no worse, troubles her not a bit, and is not a big deal for me to care for.  (Not after nine weeks of swabs and balms and syringes and ointments two years ago, anyway.)  Since the surgery would be both bloody and painful, we've decided to forego it.  It would also leave her deaf in that ear (not that she listens or anything).  We're doing some dietary experimentation to see if there's an allergy.  So I sent myself an e-mail with the subject line Natural Balance Duck and Green Peas.

It's been the busiest of times, preparing for classes, construction in my apartment, more.  So of course, Glenwood had to get into the mix.  As I was wildly finishing and printing syllabi, she edited a course calendar.

Is 5 Glenwood's Lucky Number?

It's Not as Quiet as It Seems

A Garden at Glenwood's Home of Origin

I post less often, but it's not because life with Glenwood has become boring.  Oh, no.  It's been an odd (and very hot) summer, and as often as I take photos and think of posting I ... just ... don't ... always ... get ... here.  But the other day, I walked by Glenwood's first home (not unusual).  I usually look up the driveway to see if there are cats (no), but this time I looked more carefully at the garden that the neighbor plants in the abandoned front yard.  And I noted the stakes he uses are broom handles.  Very nice.  The house remains abandoned, but the yard is cleaned up dramatically from when Glenwood lived there.

On other fronts, turns out my studio table must be where the air currents from the windows converge to drop the temperature by a degree or two.  Because look:

I've been working in another room for nicer light, so I don't mind them hanging out here except that possession is nine-tenths of the law.

They are very good buddies.  Timmy puts his entire head into Glenwood's left ear to clean it, evidently finding the taste and smell of her infection intoxicating.  Not much grosses me out after a lifetime of cats plus bringing Glenwood back from the brink, and I enjoy cleaning her ear in a perverse way, but when I see him doing that ... UGH.

Much of the time, they just hang out close to each other.  It's nice.  The rubber strip is a very popular toy.

Magical Thinking

A couple of days ago I looked at Glenwood and thought, hmmm, she hasn't gone into heat again.  What a fool I am.  Hours later, I noticed the kind of turbo affection and heard the vocalizations that could only mean one thing.  She grooms from head to tail, hoping for the big date.  She flirts.  She stalks.  She sleeps.

Kitties on Ice

When I lived in the loft it would get excruciatingly hot and I would give Timmy and Riley ice-cube rubdowns.  They loved them.  So with this even more brutal heat, Timmy was thrilled, but Glenwood not so much.  Hard to imagine that a kitty who has survived what she has is afraid of an ice cube, but she shrank from it.  But I know this little girl, and I kept at it.  Now she is an ice-cube slut.  Here she is lounging after a full-body rubdown.

Cooled Off

While I was a tad worried about leaving them, I could hardly turn down an invitation to Fire Island for an overnight.  So I placed fans strategically, arranged for kitty care, dug the goo out of Glenwood's ear (she is more productive in this heat) and put in her ear wash, and hit the road.  (It was cooler on Fire Island, but still pretty hot.)  Now that I'm back, Glenwood is making it very clear that I cannot pick up my bag to go anywhere ever again.  She has a huge case of the cutes.  And the weather seems to have broken a bit.

Welcome Home

Stratgies for Keeping Cool

The Closet Works ...

... So Does Stretching Full-Out on My Desk
(See How Fur Grows from Her Paws?)

Hot Hot Hot

It's been quite a toasty summer so far, and Timmy and Glenwood are slow-moving.  Actually, Timmy is not moving at all.  He is parked in the middle of the foyer, and I just have to operate around his sizeable mass.

Timmy in July in Brooklyn

I got a voice message from Dr. Ryan last night, and it sounds like Glenwood's surgery could be this fall.  I'm doing twice-daily ear-digging lately, as the heat is making her extra-productive.  She purrs through it; I sit on her.  After the surgery, I'm going to have to sandblast this apartment to remove all traces of her head-shaking.  I just found some ear goo on a drawing, and that is about the limit of what I can tolerate.

Distance Makes the Heart Grow ...

I had the good fortune (or audacity, depending on perspective) to go on vacation for two weeks, with Sherri sending daily reports on Glenwood's and Timmy's status.  It was, admittedly, a long time to be away.  When I walked in the door, Timmy promptly adhered himself to me (and remains pretty much a part of my leg) but Glenwood wasn't quite sure and ran away.  It took her half an hour or so to remember me, and then she took the other leg.  I decided not to be wounded by her memory lapse.  By the next morning, all was back to normal.  (Yes, Timmy appears to have put on one or two.)

Timmy Resting After My Vacation

Glenwood Back to Normal

On the medical front, Sherri couldn't catch Glenwood for ear excavation, so I got another kind of earful from her upon my return.

Next ...

This is Glenwood while she was rolling back and forth on her back trying to seduce the ever-stoic Timmy.  Now that my toe is almost healed, she's gone into heat again.  This marks the second time since she was spayed.  Sigh.

This action was on a different day, but same pillow.  (You can see Timmy has adjusted his angle, if not his attitude.)  And upon that same pillow, Glenwood has the same intentions.  I put in a call to One Love.

Timmy got a moment's rest from Glenwood yesterday, but I can't tell who won, him or the string.  They are clearly ignoring each other.

Well It Wasn't Broken

I don't think that Glenwood has evolved much in her approach to my belongings; rather, I think that wearing earplugs at night has reduced my anxiety about what she'll do to them and so I sleep - then wake up to whatever she has relocated.  The exception is around 4 am, still, when she goes all out for ...?  Impossible to know, but her demands penetrate the earplugs and I'm awake.  Often she's jumping up on the dresser, which really really really drives me nuts.

The night before my last post, during our 4 am interval, I leapt out of bed to chase her off the dresser and tripped over my handweights.  Because they are, uh, weights, they didn't budge when I hit.  I landed on the floor, not in a crash but as a way of absorbing the shock.  Oh yeah, it hurt.  But I could move everything so I went back to bed, figuring I'd deal in the morning.

The pain was excruciating. If you doubt me, get this:  I called the doctor.  Last time I broke a toe (the Architectural Digest incident) I didn't go to the doctor for weeks.  Now that I'm back in running shape (more or less), the thought of being benched was enough for me to want to know the damage.  And, of course, I iced, with Queen Glenwood finding the whole thing fascinating.  She actually walked off with the icebag in her mouth once, but I was too immobilized to get a camera.  Beneath this ice bag is one giant, purple, painful big toe.

Glenwood Is Amused by the Damage

My doctor was somewhat amused (appropriately), being a runner himself and recalling my slow appearance after the AD incident.  The x-ray showed no fracture, so now I'm just letting it heal enough to get a running shoe on it.

And Life Goes On

Catch Her While She's Still Cute

There was a Glenwood-instigated incident last night that I will report once I know more (after the doctor, and I don't mean the vet), but for now, let me just show you that yeah she's cute (him too):

If She Could Only GRADE the Papers

Timmy Spent About a Week on a Sweaty Fleece Before I Could Bring Myself to Take It Away

Glenwood Wants What She Wants

Glenwood's official name, following yet another genius realization by Sherri and yours truly, is Glenwood Smudge Shadow Sweibel.  To this I propose adding (in honor of the recent royal wedding?) Willful.  Even in the midst of this sentence, I heard the familiar crash of my decorative tiles in the bathroom, which is one of her many ways of commanding my attention.  Since it works, I can report that she wants (1) food or (2) attention.  Neither (1) nor (2) are in any short supply, so her demands can seem ... well ... those of a spoiled-ass kitten.

When She Wants Privacy

When She Wants to Annoy

When She Wants to Be in Front

Hopkins on Tilt

Hopkins, by Sue Keller

The illustration, by Sue Keller, was a gift from the early 1980s.  Hopkins was a big guy like Timmy but had a bad heart and only lived about five years.  Sue's work hangs above my meditation spot and below a painting by my aunt, Harriet Lefkowitz.  I think it was at this slant for days before I noticed.  Yes, Glenwood's antics continue but work has kept me so busy and preoccupied their effects barely register.  I've also started wearing ear plugs at night.

The semester ends May 5 and I will come up for air.

Post-Heat: Our Routine Returns

Glenwood's normal nighttime antics, I realize, are more challenging than her merely being in heat and wailing and barking all night.  After all, she left me alone and was less interested in food than other things.

Now that she's out of heat, we're back to the routine, and it feels even more disruptive.  She starts trashing my desk and dresser top at about 4.00 am so I'll serve her wet food, then she makes that the start of her day, which includes exercise, snacks, and play. I sleep in ten-minute increments the rest of the night, punctuated by Get down!, curses, and trips to the kitchen to dole out the four bites of food she eats at a time.  Timmy will eat the rest if I give her more, and he's supposed to be on a weight-reduction plan. When I finally drag myself up for good, she jumps onto the bed and goes to sleep.

Thursday night I took a stand and locked her and Timmy out.  All night I could hear things being relocated and endless meowing.  Below is my bathroom sink as I found it in the morning.  Note that some of these items she pulled out of the medicine cabinet, though she was careful to close it when she was done.

My next experiment is no more wet food.  If cats forget everything in three weeks, they'll forget that too.  Just for kicks, I put a little water on the dry food.  It fooled them.  They snorted it.

The Heat Is Off

It was March 3, 2010, that Glenwood last went out of heat, and this time it was April 7.  So this experience lasted a week (I typed "only," then realized that is an insane descriptor of the last seven days); her first heat started about February 24, 2010, so was a few days longer.  But of course, it's been almost a year since she was spayed, so this is all quite mysterious.  Even weirder, I now realize the Oscars came early this year because in 2010 she watched Alec Baldwin host while recovering.  As long as we don't go a third round before she's Conewood again, I'm good.  Timmy too, as the sexual/identity crisis he just went through was stressful.  Watching my neutered male try to impregnate my spayed female was bizarre.  Sorry, no photos; that would be kitty porn.

And the Heat Goes On

The photos below were taken in rapid succession, as Glenwood self-entertained yesterday morning.  She is a wild-woman.  I like my work, but I am especially glad to go there knowing there will be no howling or barking.  I apologize to Timmy in the morning as I leave.

This Just Can't Be So

Before I get to the big news, I'll just say that we continue to wait for Glenwood's ear surgery to be scheduled.  I left a message urging One Love to schedule her sooner than later, as Glenwood is scratchy and I'm worried about the long-term effects of her having this infection ... on her, on Timmy, on me.  We're also waiting for Timmy's bloodwork to come back.  As you can see, there is apparently nothing wrong with him that a little weight reduction won't solve.  Only problem is, cutting back on the kitty tuna is not going over well.

Anyone Can Tell What's Next

Timmy's Overhang

In between paragraphs, Timmy just crossed the keyboard, belly swinging, to jump to the windowsill ... with Glenwood in hot pursuit.  And I mean hot.  The kitten is in heat.  Never mind that she's spayed, never mind that I've spent the last 18 months of my life caring nonstop for this fur thing, never mind that sleeping is already elusive.  The last three days have been howl-filled and I'm wearing ear plugs.  A little Internet research suggests that even a tiny bit of reproductive tissue left behind can result in ... this.  Look at her!  Here's 2 from about 937 shots I took of her yesterday, trying to get just one that isn't blurred.  She is, simply, a blur.  I've put in a call to the vet, and will report back soon.  FLASH:  Dr. Ken just called.  It's confirmed; she's in heat.  He can take a peek at her girl parts while sealing her ear in surgery, but of course that cannot happen until we survive this.  I told him if he gets a howling box from me in the mail, don't open it.  On the upside, Timmy and his thyroid are fine.

Wild-Eyed (Me Too)

Tail Antics

Cat-ch-Up

It's been quite a long time since I posted, not because there hasn't been some news - Timmy has resumed chasing his tail, after all - but because I've been flat-out on every level.

Yesterday Timmy went to One Love for his annual check-up.  Squishing him into the smaller, hard kitty carrier (since Glenwood blew out the larger, soft one) was challenge #1.  Once in, he folded himself into the smallest possible area in the back, with his rear end and his face facing the door.  Sounds impossible, I know, but it's true.  I  neglected to document that position, but did document the one he took on the ride home, which was the opposite.  His face was nudged into the front corner so all I got was ear.

Timmy After the Indignity of a Check-Up

He tested out pretty well for his ten and a half years, though he was appalled at the process.  His weight is 19.1 pounds - less than his highest but more than he weighed when he first started running from Glenwood.  Dr. Ken limited his Trader Joe's kitty tuna intake for some weight reduction.  Timmy's thyroid felt a bit enlarged to Drs. Ken and Ryan, so we're doing some bloodwork for that, plus a full panel just because he's middle-aged.

Since we got home, he's been hissy and growly at Glenwood, and even took a few whacks at her.  If you've been reading this blog for any amount of time, you know that has absolutely no effect on her.  He's being nice to me.

On another note, I was loathe to photograph the awfulness of Glenwood's first weeks here.  Who needs that?  It was hard enough for me to look at (and touch ... ew).  But yesterday I asked about Bishop, a pit bull who was in a horrific fight and who I'd met about a week after he arrived.  It wasn't clear he'd make it, but he had sweet eyes and his sewn-up drippy stoned-on-meds face haunted me.  Bishop pulled through.  Dr. Ken showed me the before-and-after photos.  Bishop's nose was gone.  (I can't believe I didn't keel over.)  After Dr. Ken's reconstruction, he's not exactly Prince Charming, but he has something like a nose, and he is home.  That is one lucky pooch.  I'm sure few owners would have taken that on.

All that to prepare you for Glenwood's ear goo.  It's time to share.  I dig this out of her once or twice a day.  She is going to be having surgery in the next few weeks, as soon as Dr. Ken can line up his expert consultant.  It's getting worse and even though she remains the happy terrorist, this can't continue.

Status Quo ...

... but still zany.

A Nanosecond of Rest

What Could Possibly Have His Attention?
Not Sure I Want to Know

Glenwood's ear infection is the same.  I'm still awaiting news from the doctors on what's next.  Timmy's melted tail is the same. (You can see the dent above if you look carefully.)  I've improved my nighttime strategies. No one, but no one, is better at falling back asleep.  It's my key survival tool.

If Only ...

... life were as intoxicatingly thrilling, thoroughly consuming, and ultimately satisfying, as this:

My brother Jonathan, who was father to the quite odd Harry until finding him a new California home for very good reasons, noticed that of all the fancy toys he purchased for his cat, it was when he dropped a twistie that all hell broke loose.  I've noted the same.  Only the red laser light produces a more vivid response.

Glenwood has major sticky stuff in her ear now, so of course brushes along every available surface, from my pants to the door edges of my apartment, leaving a trail I am sure will take me decades to sandblast off.

Plan E.5

Glenwood's ear is worse, in the sense that it's a bit smellier and I'm digging out Even More Goo.  She remains ecstatic to be alive, however.  Here she is rabbit-kicking my running gloves after creating her usual mess of the pillows:

And in a peaceful nanosecond with Timmy:

So, tomorrow we are trying an interim med between plan E and surgery.  Look at this baby:

The whole thing goes into her ear and I scrunch-scrunch-scrunch (Dr. Ryan's specific orders) and we wait two weeks.  When I was ear-digging a few minutes ago, I noticed she pulled this off, as her new habit is to bat the toothpaste into the trash to get my attention.  Did she miss, or nail it?  Hmmm.

Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da

And so life continues chez Glenwood, Timmy, and Liz.  No progress on the veterinary front to report.  Whatever hopes I had for Glenwood to mellow with age seem futile.  She remains a lunatic.  As you can see, while I work, she paws my reference books.  After I make the bed, she unmakes it within five minutes.  When I foolishly left a bowl of grape tomatoes on the counter, I've had surprises since and just found another this morning.  Yuck.  And then ... there is the lovely moment where she chills and shows off her tail.

Flipping Through the APA Style Manual

I Make the Bed; She Unmakes It

How Many More Are Out There?

A Rare Moment of Calm