Wednesday Weigh-In: Week 7

As I was writing the date on this, I realized that it's the anniversary of when I started losing weight in 2009. On this day, 17 years ago(?!), I was 253 pounds. I *hate* this "before" photo of me, but seeing the pictures side-by-side really drives home how far I've come.

Of course, I didn't just lose all the weight and keep all of it off for all this time. I've gotten as low as 121 pounds and as high as 197. I feel my best at around 130 pounds, give or take 5. My ultimate goal for maintenance is about 133.

So where was I on the scale on this day, 17 years to the day after I started counting calories?

I was at 149.6... I broke into the 140's! It wasn't that long ago that I was super excited to see the 150's again. A few months ago, I really didn't even dream I'd ever see the 140's again. I'm now only five pounds from being a "normal" BMI (I'm considered "overweight" until I'm under 145). I've been asked several times recently how tall I am--I'm 5'4". 

I've still been doing the same stuff I've been doing over the last seven weeks: lots of fiber, no sweets or snacks (occasionally I have a piece of fruit in the afternoon if I'm hungry, or even a small portion of leftover dinner). Running three days a week, adding just a tiny bit of distance each run. I think what has helped me the most is the not snacking. I used to snack after dinner, but now I've been eating a large dinner and I don't have interest in snacking later.

For my running this week:

I've had to modify my routes so that I run past my house about a mile in (to drop off Joey at the house, which I mentioned last week). Thankfully, my neighborhood is is almost exactly a mile around the perimeter, so I take him around the neighborhood and then drop him off at home and add head back out until I hit my goal for the day.

Friday- My previous run had been 1.53 miles, so I planned to aim for about 1.60. Since I don't know a 0.6 mile route from my house, I just had to guesstimate and I overshot a little (not a bad thing!). I ran 1.70 miles at a 12:08/mile pace and average heart rate of 151 bpm. My "Joey mile" was 12:23; years ago, he would be out in front of me, pulling me along, the entire time; but now I've had to deliberately slow myself so he can keep up. I feel really bad for him; he would run with me until he legs gave out if I let him. I'm hoping once it's not so humid, it'll be easier for him. He's got SO MUCH FUR, the humidity has to be really hard for him.

Sunday- Same sort of thing. Previous run was 1.70, so my plan was to aim for about 1.80. Again, I dropped Joey off (that first mile time was 12:18) and then I did a guesstimate to continue the distance. I overshot again and hit 1.92 miles. I could have kept going in order to hit 2.0, but I decided I wanted my 2-miler to be a special day of its own. Finished the 1.92 miles at an 11:54/mi average pace (11:27 without Joey) with an average heart rate of 151 bpm.

Tuesday- The weather was GREAT for running! Unfortunately, as soon as Joey and I started out, my legs just felt heavy and I was feeling very tired. I was bummed because it was my 2.0-mile day. Since Tuesday was the last day of my running week, I couldn't put it off. I just pushed through it, and was thrilled when I hit the two-mile mark! It wasn't that long ago that I was struggling HARD to run half a mile. Now, my average heart rate is down a little and my pace is getting a little faster (without trying). I finished two miles--12:04/mi with Joey and 11:14/mi without Joey. Overall, I did 2.00 miles with an average pace of 11:39/mi and average heart rate of 152 bpm.

The running has actually done wonders for my day-to-day mood! Even after all these years, I still get really nervous before a run (even a short easy run). I have no idea why. But as soon as I get home, I walk straight to the bathroom, put the shower on straight-up cold water, strip as quickly as possible and jump in before I cool off. The cold water feels SO good! And then I feel good about it the rest of the day. It's exciting to see the improvement so far.

A few random personal things from recently...

Joey- I took him to the vet about his balance/"clumsiness", and after a thorough check-up, the vet didn't find anything concerning. We think it could be his hearing; he's definitely had hearing loss over the last year or so, and a sudden noise can startle him to losing his balance. But he has no balance issues when he runs with me, and the vet was very impressed that he can run a mile at his age. (Granted, we are not running to qualify for Boston, but running nonetheless. The vet also did some bloodwork since he's getting old, and she said there was a slight abnormality with his kidneys. She doesn't think it's alarming, but we're going to retest him in a few months and compare the results. 

When I tell him that my mom is going to come pick him up, he gets SO EXCITED. So we go outside and he stands like this, watching the end of the road for my mom's car to turn the corner.

Eli is starting the fire academy in a couple of weeks! I can't remember if I mentioned it here or not, but he wants to be a firefighter and has been working really hard to get in shape before he starts the academy. As a mom, I am terrified of him becoming a firefighter; but I am happy that he's chosen to go back to school to do something that interests him. He put in his two-week notice at work yesterday. He still lives at home, but spends most of his time at work, the gym, and his girlfriend's apartment.

Noah is still working full-time and living at home to save money to buy property (he wants to build a house). He's just now starting to look at other options for jobs. He would ideally like to get into a trade like electrical. We've been helping him explore those options. For now, he works a lot (he picks up overtime for the extra money) and when he's not working, he's usually spending time with his boyfriend (yes, you read that correctly; he is very happy and Jerry and I are happy for him!). 

Jerry and I celebrated our 23rd wedding anniversary on Sunday. We did the most unlike-us thing we could have chosen... we went to the Henry Ford Museum! I have probably mentioned (several times over the years) that I hate going to that museum because I chaperoned field trips every.goddamned.year. when the kids were in school. But I've changed so much over the last 4-5 years. When I became vegan, I started reading more about veganism--which led to reading more about the impacts of diet on the environment (I *highly* recommend the documentary called "Eating Our Way to Extinction", free on YouTube). That led me to interest in politics, which led me to learning about war, which led me to learning about history. All things I never had any interest in. 

Anyway, Jerry and I went to the Henry Ford Museum and it was like looking at it with fresh eyes. I really enjoyed our time there! (Jerry has always loved the museum.) We were there for five hours and didn't even see everything. My favorite part was that there is a temporary exhibit called Fabric of America: Our Fashions, Textiles, and Technologies. So perfect for me! There were quilts (including one from the 1700's) and lots of clothing and furniture from throughout the last couple of centuries. It was super interesting (even Jerry liked it).

I was stunned to see this quilt called the Vine Quilt from the late 1800's. Every single one of the leaves and vines are hand-appliquéd! Having appliquéd petals on a couple of quilts myself, I know how much time this must have taken. And most of these individual leaves are pieced with multiple fabrics!

The cats are still spoiled rotten. Estelle is about 18 years old and just recently, she's started to show her age a little. She's gotten smaller and is starting to look a little frail, like Phoebe did for a few years before she passed. But Estelle still gets the zoomies occasionally and she always shows the "kittens" who's boss. Chick and Duck (mainly Duck) are about as needy as two toddlers, which drives me crazy. But I'm still obsessed with Duck and we are totally codependent, haha.

I brought them some "cat grass" from Eastern Market in Detroit. They LOVE this stuff!

Well, I guess that's enough update for now. I *promise* to post my Beans and Greens post by Friday. I'm writing that here so that I actually have a deadline and I stop procrastinating!

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My Squirrels

I'm going to stop saying that I'm going to write more often. I have every intention of doing it, but time just goes by so fast! I had been meaning to write an update post about my new year's resolutions, but last weekend turned into a little bit of a nightmare, so I want to write about that.

First, you all know how I feel about my squirrels. I have a huge tree in my backyard right off of our back deck, and we've had about six squirrels at a time living in that tree for years. I've seen many generations of squirrels, and I love seeing the cycles--pregnant mom, then tiny babies. It's SO CUTE to see mom "training" her babies. From what I can tell, she makes them stay in a certain area on the tree and they watch her as she comes to the deck to get nuts from me. After about a year, the babies are brave enough to come up to me on their own.

It's hard to tell without a reference with a larger squirrel, but this is one of the babies when mom says it's okay to go play

One of the things I love most is that the squirrels trust me. It's very difficult and takes time to earn their trust, but eventually they recognize my voice and my hand signal that I have nuts for them. I keep peanuts (in the shell) out at all times, but for hand-feeding, I have walnuts, pecans, and hazelnuts (all in-shell), as well as shelled walnuts and pecans. Yes, they are spoiled!

Here is a short compilation video... (I hope this works--I feel like I don't even know how to compose a blog post anymore, hahaha)

I used to name them, but eventually it was hard to tell some of them apart, so I just started calling them all "Buddy". They frequently come up to the back door and look inside the kitchen to see if I'm around. Whenever I see them, I open the door and hand them a nut. It feels like passing out candy to trick-or-treaters! Whenever I cook dinner, they see me through the skylight in the kitchen and I can see them come down from the tree to the deck.

At least once or twice a day, I go outside with my "nut sack" (hahaha, I will never NOT laugh at that--it's a little bag I made to hold nuts). The squirrels sit on the railing (sometimes four of them at a time, which you can see in the video above) and I continuously hand out the shelled nuts. I watch them eat and then they reach their hands out for another. I love that they hold onto my fingers while they pick up the nut with their mouth. This time I spend outside is something that I look forward to every day; I go out there with no distractions and just interact with my beloved squirrels. It's therapeutic for me.

I know that to a lot of people, it seems ridiculous to love squirrels this much. But they bring me joy! Lately, I've had so much heavy stuff on my mind; feeding the squirrels is one of the only moments during the day where I can shut out the noise in my head and focus on the present.

Last Friday, it was *insanely* windy (not to mention cold). Well, Chick (my cat) hates storms and the wind was freaking him out. He was standing outside of Noah's door in the hallway and meowing loudly, so I started to walk over to him to comfort him. As I was walking past my dining room, I heard a loud crack from the backyard, and looked outside to see (what I thought was) a large branch coming off of my squirrel tree.

We've lost a branch here and there through the years, but this looked big. As I stood there, I saw the ENTIRE TREE tip over and uproot. This tree was massive! Maybe 80 feet tall? (I'm totally guessing). I just started yelling, "Holy shit, oh my god!" over and over again while I panicked a bit. Noah was the only one home and he was sleeping.

The view from my window 😞 

Where I like to sit and feed the squirrels

My first thought was my squirrels. I was so worried about them, and I knew that one of them had babies very recently. I immediately ran outside and started looking for the babies. I knew where all the hidey holes were, so I just went from one to the next, searching. I was about to give up when I heard a loud squeaking noise (it's a baby squirrel in distress cry) and I followed the noise. I saw a tiny baby underneath a huge branch and my heart sank. I thought the branch was pinning it down and I was so scared that I wouldn't be able to get it out.

Thankfully, I was able to reach under and grab it. I held it against my chest to warm it and he stopped his cry. I started looking for any siblings nearby and didn't see or hear any. At that moment, my next door neighbor came over and I told him what I was doing. He said, "Did you see the front of your house?"

I had run outside right after the tree fell, so I didn't know what he was talking about. He said that a utility pole fell on top of my garage, and the wires were hanging over our driveway. That was obviously a big deal, but my first priority was finding the squirrels. I went back to where I found the one baby and dug around inside the tree. Right as I was about to give up, I found another baby. I continued to look for babies and their mom. As I was doing that, a police officer or firefighter came into the backyard to tell me that he taped off the street in front of my house because of the power lines. I still hadn't even looked at it yet, so I went inside with the babies and put them inside of a winter hat to keep them warm, then I walked out to look at the garage.

Baby boys, a week and a half old

Sure enough, the utility pole had come down right on top of the garage and punctured a large hole in it. There was also a dead tree across the street that had fallen into the road, blocking the road off. My electricity went out, of course. And interestingly, my neighbors' still had power. It was just my house that lost power! Between the tree, the branch, and the electricity, it reminded me of the subreddit r/fuckyouinparticular, because nobody else in the neighborhood had damage.

I had no idea what to do about the squirrels. It was still crazy windy and cold outside, so even if mom came back for them, she had nowhere to put them, considering the tree was on the ground. With all that was going on, I called Jerry and ask if he could come home from work. He left work and when he got home, he said he called wildlife rehabs on his way home and lined something up for us. I was SO grateful! The woman from the rehab told us what to do--absolutely do not try to feed them or give them anything to drink, and it was absolutely crucial to keep them warm. She suggested putting one of those disposable handwarmers under a blanket. 

She said we could wait until morning when the wind died down and try to get the mom to come back by playing a loop of the baby squirrel in distress cry (I found it on a wildlife rehab site). If that didn't work within an hour or two, we could bring them to her.

Without electricity, it was SO COLD in the house that night. The thermostat said 51 degrees on that first night. I put the squirrels (still in the hat) into a small box with a handwarmer underneath them. I was worried about the cats finding them, so I slept with them right next to me. 

In the morning, it was still very cold, but I tried doing what the rehab woman suggested with the squirrel cries. There were no squirrels in sight, which was disheartening. I felt *horrible* about taking the babies from their mom, but I decided to bring them to the rehab. They were only about a week and a half old, so they needed to eat. The woman at the rehab was so kind and I felt very confident that the babies were in good hands with her. She texted later that night to say they were eating and doing well.

Jerry and I, on the other hand, were freezing. The thermostat got down to 45 degrees that second night! The energy company still hadn't come to fix the pole. On Sunday, I called my brother, Nathan, who is a lineman for the energy company and told him what was going on. He called his supervisor and after some digging around, it turned out that someone had marked the job as "complete" on Friday night. So they didn't even know that we still had no power!

On Sunday evening, they came out and restored power temporarily. They still had to replace the pole, but they at least got the wires back up out of the way. Jerry had to put a tarp over the hole in the garage roof. We were so excited to get warm and sleep in a warm bed! (Interestingly, we discovered that when a Tempurpedic mattress gets super cold, it becomes hard as a rock.) We contacted the insurance company about the wind damage, who sent an adjuster out a couple of days ago to assess. 

Once all the chaos was back in order, I kind of had a little breakdown. I am completely devastated about the tree. I'm sure the squirrels will probably still come around, but it's just not the same. I loved sitting out on the deck and watching the squirrels in the tree. It was also home to a lot of them. I can always plant another tree (and I will) but it'll be at least 15-20 years before it'll be big enough for squirrels to inhabit. And you all know how good I am at growing trees. 🙄 

For a few days, I didn't see a single squirrel at all. Today, there were three that kept coming up for nuts. Usually there are about six. I just feel like my spirit is crushed. I'd already been having a tough time mentally, but this was a huge blow. I'm not sure I did the right thing with the babies, but at least I know they are safe. I haven't seen their mom yet.

Anyway, that was quite the weekend. Right now, it's windy and snowing, and I just want the weather to warm-up!

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The One With The Missing Needle

I'm not even sure how to intro this story, so I'm just going to jump right in...

A few weeks ago, I was hand quilting in my bedroom. I'd been working on a queen-size quilt (just the one that I mentioned on my last post). Throughout the project, I'd do a little here and there--even if it was just one length of thread, it was inching me closer to finishing.

Anyway, I have a little pincushion that I made *specifically* because I worry about my cats eating thread. It's just a small mason jar with a cushion on top. Whenever I snip the tails of my thread, I immediately put them in the jar and put the lid on. Not taking any chances.

I also have a small sewing kit I made just for hand quilting or sewing, making it easy to move my stuff around the house with me wherever I feel like working on it. In the kit is a little needle book that holds the different types of needles I use. I try to keep a stash of five of each type in there so that if they bent or whatever, I can easily grab a new one.

I go through quilting needles probably faster than I should. On that day, I had to switch out my bent needle and I grabbed another from the book. I noticed I was down to the last needle, so I just made a mental note to add a few more later. I quilted with one length of thread and then I rethreaded the needle to start another. After I tied the knot in the end, I heard something chaotic in the living room--I don't remember what it was--and it made me jump up to go see what happened.

I stuck the threaded needle into the pin cushion (from what I remembered) and set the jar in my sewing kit so that it wouldn't be a totally visible beckoning to the cats for the moment. I set the sewing kit down off to the side behind a chair, and I went to check out what was going on in the living room. Of course, I got distracted and ended up forgetting about my quilting until the following morning.

When I sat down to quilt in the morning, I went to grab a needle from my book and saw there was only one in there. And there wasn't a needle in the pin cushion.

I tried to remember all the details of what happened. Was I missing a needle? I knew that I made a note that I was down to the last quilting needle. When I looked in the book, there was one needle left. So I was questioning myself whether I used that needle and put it back in the book, or had there been one quilting needle left in the book *after I took a new one out*?

My gut was telling me that there had been two needles in the book, and I'd taken one out, leaving the final needle in the book. Whenever I'm done with a needle, I put it in the jar also, to discard later--it wouldn't be a fun thing to find with my feet later on--but I had a few old needles in the jar so I wasn't sure. Also, I couldn't remember if I had already used that length of thread from the day before... had I used it and then put everything away? There was no sign of the thread anywhere.

At that point, I was pretty sure I had a missing needle and length of thread. But I couldn't be absolutely sure and it was nagging at me! So I grabbed a flashlight and a magnet and started crawling around on my hands and knees looking for a needle. I did not find one. BUT. I found a short length of thread with a knot tied in one end. The other end looked broken, not cut.

Then I knew. I was definitely missing a needle and some length of thread. With the thread having a knot in one end, I knew I hadn't used it yet--the other end had to be threaded into the needle. And I never tie a knot without the needle being threaded already. But there was no sign of more thread and definitely no needle.

A needle isn't exactly something that you want to chance a cat passing naturally, so I called the vet. I asked if I could bring in both Chick and Duck for x-rays. My money was on Chick--remember when he swallowed that entire drawstring and then regurgitated it like two days later? Duck is obviously not innocent, after his emergency surgery in 2021 from swallowing four feet of yarn, but my suspicion was Chick. (Estelle never would have done it, so that didn't even cross my mind. Same with Joey.)

I brought them to the vet right away and asked them to check Chick first. Chick thought he was being sneaky by hiding under the chair, hahaha.

When the vet came back, she showed me the x-ray and said that it was definitely Chick that ate the needle. You could see the needle clearly on the x-ray and it was still in his stomach (which is a good thing because as it travels through the intestines, the surgery can get a lot more complicated).

They said they could operate on him that afternoon, just a couple of hours later. And then we got to pick him up that evening because he didn't have any complications (like Duck did, with his fever). He came home in a body suit to keep from licking his incision. He was SO out of it from the anesthesia that it was kind of scary to watch him. He was very restless but would only walk backwards--no joke. He would walk backwards until he bumped into something, then turn and continue on. Thankfully, it only lasted a few hours. He was stoned AF though from his meds.

His aftercare was not at all fun. He came home with five medications--FIVE--and if you have ever given a cat medication, you know that it's an experience. Phoebe left me a sobbing mess sometimes, hahaha. There was a liquid, three regular pills, and then a big pill that had to be crushed, mixed with water, and given orally with a syringe. (Can you think of anything more bitter tasting?)

The meds had to be given twice a day. Chick also could not be jumping or playing or anything like that. That's very hard to do when you have other cats at home and the "cat shelves" in my bedroom (Chick's favorite place to sleep). Also, Chick could only have soft food. Wet food is a big treat to the pets and they got hooked when Duck was recovering. We got into the routine of giving all the pets wet food first thing in the morning, and dry food throughout the day, which is what we have been doing ever since.

Because Chick needed only wet food, I had to feed him several times a day (especially at first, because he didn't want to eat--so I'd open a can only for him to shun it). Of course, I can't give one cat special food because the other cats (and Joey) want it, too. So, I was feeding all the pets smaller portions of food several times a day to keep everybody happy and to help Chick recover.

I'm very lucky that I was able to be home to take care of all of it. I have no idea how we would have managed Chick's recovery otherwise. He's now back to normal and I've learned another lesson the hard way. This was another very expensive and stressful lesson to learn! The part that kills me is that I KNEW BETTER. At the very least, I should have thrown something on top of my sewing stuff to cover it.

Thankfully, everything turned out okay. I am so glad that I (I guess unknowingly) pay attention to the number of needles I have. I don't deliberately count them each time I use them; I only noticed it because I'd made a mental note to add more to the book. But it was the piece of thread with a knot that thoroughly convinced me the needle was missing, whether it was ingested or just lost. Trust your intuition!

These cats keep me on my toes, that's for sure ;)

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The One With The Ashes

I've been wanting to write about this for a while but since I haven't been writing at all lately, I kind of forgot about it. I was telling a friend about it today, so I'm going to write this before I forget again.

If you missed the post, Phoebe (our 18-year old cat) passed away in November. (The post is here.) We made the decision to euthanize her when we took her to the vet (she looked terrible and seemed to be in pain... the vet agreed it was time).

I know I just wrote Phoebe's backstory in the post about her, but a relevant tidbit here is how Phoebe came to be our cat. A mom in the MOMS Club I was in while my kids were little was looking for a home for a stray cat that her sister had taken in. We only had Chandler at the time, so we decided we wanted her.

Rose made this little stuffed Phoebe for me for Christmas! The little box contains Phoebe's ashes.

Side note: How CUTE is that teeny tiny vase? It's literally a vase for cat whiskers. BAHAHA, I got it for Jerry for Christmas. [If you know, you know.]

She had definitely had a rough start to life--half of her tail was missing (the tip of what was left felt bent, and I imagine that maybe it was slammed in a door) and she had what felt like a BB (like for a BB gun) under her skin in her chest area. We never knew if it was actually a BB, but that's exactly what it felt like, so we assumed she'd been shot at some point. Poor cat!

Anyway, we talked about Phoebe's BB here and there throughout the years (she was about a year old when we got her). The curiosity drove me crazy sometimes--it felt so close to the surface of her skin, and I just wanted to pluck it out and know!

As morbid as it sounds, I'd always planned to ask the vet if they could remove it after she died. I wanted it for some odd reason. However, after the emotional euthanasia visit, the last thing I was thinking about was asking for the BB. When I realized it the next day, I figured it was too late (and definitely a creepy thing to ask on the phone) so I forgot about it.

Until a few weeks later, when I was looking for a spot to put her ashes. The thought of the BB popped into my head again, and I got the idea to look for it in her ashes. I *know* this is weird! I really do. But my curiosity was killing me. I opened up the urn and used a magnet to sift through the ashes.

To be honest, I didn't actually even believe that they were Phoebe's ashes. How would anyone know if they are getting their pet's ashes? I guess I just pictured the crematorium doing a big cremation and divvying up the ashes to each owner, because nobody would know and it would be cheaper. So I didn't expect to find anything, but I just HAD to look.

And then...

I FOUND IT. It took all of about 10 seconds for the magnet to find it.

It was seriously in her ashes! I can't even describe how I felt when I found it, but it was good. I am still so stunned that it was in there. And I learned that it was, in fact, a BB. 

I wanted to share this not only because it's an interesting story, but because maybe if you have doubts about whether your pet's ashes are really *their* ashes, have faith that they probably are. Obviously crematoriums do their own thing, but maybe this will be a little reassuring. I have solid proof that I do, in fact, have Phoebe's ashes!

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The One Where Phoebe Crossed the Rainbow Bridge

I hate that this is the first post I've written in a while, because it's a sad one for me. The last couple of months have just plain sucked, and I have been avoiding writing until I have something positive to say. But I can't skip over this one.

Noah called me on Saturday morning and said that he was really worried about Phoebe. She was hiding in his closet, not wanting to be social, very lethargic... not at all like her. She also looked very skinny (she was already a skinny cat and couldn't afford to lose any weight). Her fur was looking clumpy. All of these things had happened a few years ago as well, and I'd been sure she was at death's door. I even made the appointment to have her euthanized and we all said our goodbyes to her.

Saying goodbye to her a few years ago

Then, the morning of the appointment, she suddenly started eating again and she perked up a lot. So, we waited. And she got better! Back to normal Phoebe. She's done that to us a couple of times over the last few years, so when Noah called me, I wasn't *too* worried. If it hadn't been Saturday, I probably would've waited a day or two to take her to the vet. But if something was wrong, I really didn't want it to happen while the vet was closed on Sunday.

Noah had an appointment, but I asked his girlfriend, Rose, if she wanted to go with me. She ADORES Phoebe. She has spoiled her rotten over the last year and Phoebe was super attached to Rose. I thought that if this was the end of the road for Phoebe, she'd want Rose there too.

When they weighed Phoebe at the vet, I was stunned. She was only 3.5 pounds (down from 5.5 a couple of months ago). She looked like a skeleton with fur. Normally, she would have meowed the whole way to the vet and then fought her way to stay in her carrier instead of getting examined, but she seemed like she was just so tired and didn't care what was happening.

The vet said her kidney disease had progressed to the point that there was really nothing we could do. They could give her fluids, which would probably help for a couple of days, but then we'd be back in the same spot. And I could tell Phoebe was in pain--it was even hard for her to walk. I asked the vet what she would do if it was her cat, and she gently said that euthanizing her would probably be the most loving thing we could do for her at that point.

She left Rose and I to talk it over and we were devastated. We ultimately agreed that it was what was best for Phoebe. The last thing I wanted was to be with her when the vet gave her the meds because I knew it would crush me, but again--I wanted to do what was best for Phoebe and I wanted her to feel loved until the very end.

In 2009, one of the women in a MOMS Club that I belonged to said her sister had a stray cat that needed a home. We had just one cat at the time--Chandler--and we decided to take her. She was about a year old and had just gotten spayed (she was pregnant at the time, which breaks my heart). We realized she must have had a rough life--she was missing half of her tail and she had a bb embedded under her skin. The way her tail was bent at the end felt like maybe it had been slammed in a door.

This was the day we brought her home

She was extremely skittish around people (which was understandable) but over time, she warmed up to us. She and Chandler were buddies, too. 

She desperately wanted to be an outdoor cat (coming and going as she pleased) and we let her do that for the first few years. One time, though, she was gone for a long time. I was sure she'd been eaten by a coyote or something in the woods across the street. She obviously made it home alive, but that was probably the closest to death she'd ever experienced. I wrote all about it in this post: "And Then There Were Three". After that, she was strictly an indoor cat, unless we brought her outside on her leash. She was notorious for sneaking out, though!

My absolute favorite thing about Phoebe was this sort of "sixth sense" that she had. I have had a lot of cats in my lifetime, but none of them were as intuitive to others' emotions like Phoebe. She was SO empathetic. Any time she sensed that I was upset about something, she became very insistent about being as close to my face as possible. It was like she could stare right into my soul. She wanted to curl up on my chest and rub her face on mine. It didn't matter where she was in the house or what she was doing; if she heard me crying, she would run to me. I felt a special bond with her because of that.

After my skin removal surgery (and my jaw surgeries), she was glued to my chest

And that's why I wanted to be with her when she went to sleep for the final time. I let Rose hold her on her lap and I just kept stroking her head and telling her it was okay. I wanted to comfort her like she always comforted me. Then the vet pushed the meds into her catheter and I could see her instantly relax. She rested her head in my hand. The vet listened for her heartbeat and told us she was "at peace".

I know that it was best for her, but it was still so hard to do. Phoebe was the cat that just kept coming back. Honestly, when I brought her to the vet that day, I was sure she'd get some fluids and turn right back into the old Phoebe, having given us all a scare again.

I am so glad that we made the decision to let her live with Noah and Rose over the last year. She was SO happy there as an only pet. She didn't have Chick and Duck pestering her all the time and she'd gotten her appetite back. She even gained a little weight. Whenever I visited her, she seemed so content, which made me happy. And I loved to see how spoiled she was.

It's so hard to believe that she was 18 years old. I've never had a pet live that long; Chandler was 14 when he died. Estelle is now 17 and Joey is 11. Where does the time go?

I really will try to write soon, even if I don't have anything positive to say right now. xo

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The One Where Phoebe Moved Out

It's been a while since I've updated anything about Phoebe. Can you believe it's been about two years since she was very sick and diagnosed with kidney disease? She'd gotten down under five pounds, and while she'd always been skinny, she looked like death. I said my goodbyes to her, convinced that she wouldn't be coming home from the vet with me.

Phoebe is now 16 years old and she is probably on her ninth of nine lives. Even when we adopted her, she'd already been shot by a bb gun and some sort of trauma had resulted in the loss of half of her tail. There was the time she was locked in my neighbor's shed for four days straight without food or water. And a time where she somehow got a puncture wound on her back, which got infected--resulting in surgery. She's been through a lot!

When Noah decided to move into an apartment, he said he wished he could take Phoebe and Estelle with him. Phoebe has always been "his" cat; he has a strong bond with her.

Noah and Phoebe in 2009, on the day we brought Phoebe home

I was about to dismiss the idea, but then I started to think about it. Phoebe has made it clear that she would prefer to be an only pet. She gets along with Joey, but she hates the other cats. Chick and Duck torment her (they are only trying to play with her, but she doesn't want anything to do with them).

The only cat she's ever gotten along with is Chandler. But then again, *everybody* loved Chandler.

With Phoebe being old, slow, and a third the size of the kittens, I was constantly having to separate the cats to accommodate Phoebe. I feel super protective of her, even though she's a spitfire and has proven she can take care of herself.

It was always extremely difficult to get her to eat. For the last couple of years, I've been doing everything I can to get her to gain some weight--trying numerous different types of food--but she's not food-motivated in the slightest. Feeding the cats was super stressful. Along with their dry food, I started giving them wet food once a day (they go crazy for it) to hopefully entice Phoebe. Each time, I had to watch the cats like a hawk so they didn't go steal Phoebe's food. (If I didn't keep them away, they'd go sit right in front of her to intimidate her to leave her plate.)

As I thought about what Noah said, I realized that Phoebe would probably be thrilled to live as a solo pet with Noah. She has a strong bond with him. And he could feed her wet food as frequently as she'd eat, allowing her to take her time (considering there weren't more cats around stalking her). Noah said there was a pet fee of $350 at the apartment, which he couldn't afford. I told him that we could do a short trial period and if she seemed to do well, then Jerry and I would pay the fee as well as for her care (food, litter, vet). 

Jerry and I brought Phoebe to Noah's and I was sure that she'd be freaked out and want to come back home with us. But she seemed so comfortable there almost immediately! When she realized there weren't any other pets around, she relaxed and didn't try to hide like I expected. Noah kept sending me updates (he knew I'd ask him 100 times a day if he didn't, ha) and she is thriving!

In addition to her dry food, she's been eating wet food three times a day. She also loves the warmer temperature in Noah's apartment (our thermostat is at 68 F; I don't know what Noah's is, but it's definitely warmer). We brought her favorite beds over there and she likes to lie in front of the heater. She's had no problem using the litter box (she never has, but I wasn't sure how she'd adjust). She seems truly happy!

I miss having her around, but because she's with Noah, I know that she's getting so much attention and love--and I can go see her anytime I want. Noah and his girlfriend (who also adores Phoebe) work opposite schedules, so she's rarely home alone. My house is a million times more peaceful without the fighting (Estelle doesn't like Chick and Duck, but they leave her alone). Feeding the pets is stress-free.

I never thought this would be a solution (but then again, I never expected Noah to move out so suddenly). It's been working out perfectly and I'm thrilled that Phoebe is doing so well. I want to bring my scale over there in a couple of weeks and see if she's gained any weight! ;)

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Friday Night Photos #134

I didn't think I took many photos this week, but I just found a LOT on my camera roll. Lots of random stuff! Here goes...

First, the belt I ended up making for Eli's Han Solo costume. I bought a faux leather bag at Goodwill for $6, then took it apart to use the faux leather. I had NO idea what I was doing--I'd never sewn faux leather before, I know nothing about Han Solo, and I just had to wing it. It's not accurate to the actual Han Solo belt, but that one is much more detailed than I wanted to get into. The main part I wanted was the gun holster. I still have to attach the belt buckle.

I also wanted to stain it darker. From what I read online, you can't stain faux leather; you have to paint it. Well, I wasn't going to go buy paint for this thing, so I tried using wood stain anyway. I loved the color when I applied it!

Unfortunately, even after several hours, it still wiped off. So it's the tan color and I'm not worried about it. 

I wasn't sure what I was going to do about the buckle. The Han Solo buckle basically an elongated silver hexagon. I thought about using 1/4 inch plywood and spray painting it gray. Or covering it with foil. But after looking around the garage, I found a very small piece of craft sheet metal. I can't remember why I bought it, but it was years ago and I'd held onto it. It was perfect!

Because it was so thin and could basically slice open Eli's abdomen while wearing it, I used CA glue to attach it to a scrap piece of 1/4-inch plywood. I cut out the hexagon shape and to keep it from looking too shiny and new, I used sandpaper to scuff it up. Then I spray painted the back and sides gray. I'm kind of impressed with how it turned out!

When I was laying out the faux leather to figure out what to do with it, I just tossed it on the floor (that's basically my "table" when I do projects). I turned my back for a second and the cats proved just how predictable they are, hahaha.

Set anything on the floor and the cats are immediately drawn to it.

Duck was so funny yesterday morning. He "helps" me do the Wordle and Connections puzzles after my run in the mornings by settling himself on my shins for a nap. Yesterday, he sprawled out like this--and he slept that way!

I guess I took a lot of pictures of Duck this week.  These ones were impossible to take without them just being a blur of black cat. Duck is obsessed with spaghetti noodles. He somehow knows when we make spaghetti and then he will literally try to play with it by batting at it with his paws while you're eating it. When you dangle it for him, he likes to hit it hard enough to break it in half--over and over--until you're left with a couple of inches.

Last night, Jerry and I were dangling the spaghetti for him and he was going nuts. Then he got a strand stuck to his head, with just the end dangling behind his ear. He was trying so hard to get it--he was basically chasing himself in circles with his mouth open (like a dog chasing his own tail). 

While I'm on the subject of cats, Noah and his girlfriend made a cat pizza, which I thought was cute! They both love cats and they volunteer at a local cat shelter.

When I was at Goodwill, I saw this little hat with some dog costumes and it was only $1. I thought it would be funny to get for Joey. I had to bribe him with a treat for him to keep it on long enough for a photo.

Becky sent me a super cute video of Riley getting her ears pierced, and she was SO brave. I commented on how cute her outfit was, and Becky sent me this picture so I could see the full effect. I love it when kids choose their own clothes!

My friend Paul, who I went to high school with, plays his guitar at a bar once a month. I've been wanting to go see him, but each time he's playing, we've had something going on. Finally, we made it up there (it's an hour and twenty minutes away). The bar was really cool--I love the mural. And Paul sounded fantastic, as usual.

And last but not least, I went to my mom's today to get these film slides from her attic. My grandpa (her dad) took most of these pictures in the late 1960s and I was very curious to look through them. I put them through the slide viewer and most of them were pictures of different landmarks and things while traveling. There were some pictures of people, though, which was fun to see. There are a few I'm going to get prints of. (What is pictured below is only about 5% of the number of slides!)  Next, I'm going to watch his 8mm films with a projector. I wish I could transfer them to digital, but I'm sure it would cost a fortune. Hopefully my dad's projector still runs ;)

Have a great weekend! xo

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