I dug into the archives for this photo. This is Chris with Tigger and abbey. The photo is dated May 3, 2011. At that time it was likely that Tigger and Abbey were enjoying some alone time until Chris came along.
What does ear polyps, arthritis, and 19 pounds have in common? If you guessed Chris then you would be right.
Chris has been shaking his head a lot lately indicating the problem with his ears has become bad again. We had to clean and medicate his ears last time he had that problem and he did not make that easy for us. I even brought him to the vet a month ago so they could clean his ears. I heard him in the other room screaming like he was being tortured. The first (or second) time I brought him in for that problem was when they discovered he needed some teeth extracted. I asked if they could start me off by cleaning his ears but Chris gave them such a hard time that they decided to wait until he was under anesthesia for his teeth.
The other issue with Chris started about a month ago. He stopped jumping on my lap while I was sitting at my desk. Instead he would claw at my legs and I would have to pick him up. After that I noticed him limping slightly. It was time to make an appointment for him at the vet.
I brought him in on Friday. The vet tech brought us into an exam room where she tried to get Chris out of his carrier so she could weigh him but Chris was not budging. I tried to help by tipping the carrier at an angle but he managed to hold on. She suggested taking the top off but the carrier I used had about fifteen screws and I said it was too much work to take it apart and put it back together. I asked if she could weigh him in the carrier and then weigh the carrier later and subtract. She thought that was a good idea and put him on the scale, carrier and all. I don’t remember the total weight but I do remember saying, “I sure hope this carrier weighs more than ten pounds.”
She left us in the room and I put Chris up on the table and opened the carrier door. He just stayed there. I tried to coax him out but he was staying put.
This is unusual behavior for Chris. In the past, he loved to get out and explore the exam room. A stubborn stationary cat was not his style. As recently as last December he was exploring the vet’s exam room.
After a while the tech came back in and we decided to remove the top of the carrier. She started removing screws on one side and I did the other. When we had him out I gave her the carrier to weigh. She came back with a weight of 19.6 pounds for Chris. Holy crap. The last time he was weighed he was 17.9 pounds and I thought that was bad.
I have been trying to get Chris’s weight down for a while now but it keeps going up. For years I have been gradually reducing the amount of dry food he is allowed to eat. I make a homemade food for them that consists mostly of organic chicken along with a high quality supplement blend. I want Chris to eat more of that but he rarely eats more than a few bites before walking away. Sometimes I find myself hand feeding it to him just to get him to eat some of it. Frankie and Floki have no trouble finishing their plates.
Because he doesn’t eat enough homemade food I do supplement with dry food. I have tried not giving him anything else but that does not get him to eat more of the good food, he just annoys everyone with his pathetic crying. I believe the dry food is largely responsible for his weight gain and these last couple of days I have restricted the dry food even more. Now, whenever he is not sleeping, he holds a vigil at the food bowl, talking to anyone that will listen to his sad story.
Anyway, getting back to the story, The vet examined his ears and talked about the polyps that we already knew about. He said they were bad and restricted airflow which promoted bacteria growth and infection. He said he was going to give me more ear cleaner and medicine. The ear cleaner needed to be used every other day and the medicine every day.
He also recommended that they surgically remove the polyps. I asked if they might return after the surgery and he said that they could. I asked how much the surgery would cost and he didn’t know. They would have to get back to me on that.
He then checked his paws and legs for any sign of injury but could find none. I told them he had a slight limp but didn’t know what foot seemed to be the problem. We put him down to watch him walk but he didn’t show a sign of limping at that time. I wished I had thought of videoing him walking at home but I didn’t.
The vet said that he could have some arthritis. He said it was even more likely because Chris was overweight. He recommended I buy Cosequin for him but they didn’t have any in stock. The vet tech gave me a card and said I could order it from their online store but I had no desire to pay double retail because it was coming from the vet so when I got home I looked on Amazon instead. I found Cosequin capsules and Cosequin chews. I wasn’t sure which would be better or easier. The chews seemed easier but if he didn’t like them they would be worthless. The capsules sprinkle on their food but since I have three cats it’s hard to know who is getting how much. I decided to by both and see which I like better.
Back at the vet we waited for quite a while.
Finally the vet tech came back with the medicine but they still did not have a surgery estimate so I paid the $150 bill and went home.
That email with the estimate came Saturday afternoon. For $588.43 Chris can be free of polyps for an undetermined amount of time. For now, we will give him the medication. If that works, the surgery might not be necessary at this time. If it doesn’t work, we will probably have to have it done.
During my walks with Frankie, we spend a lot of time doing things that don’t include walking.
Usually he will stop to roll in the grass but this time the sidewalk was a good substitute.
Father’s Day definitely did not start out good. The evening before was not so great either. That started with my wife, Rose, complaining about a smell in the kitchen. I smelled nothing but I have the nose of a mere human. Rose, on the other hand, was the subject of a secret government experiment where her nose was genetically altered to that of a blood hound’s nose. She can smell a fly fart two houses down.
She did a thorough search of the kitchen but couldn’t find the source of the smell. We then went outside and she said “It smells worse out here!” There happened to be a bag of cat poop that I put outside the door but hadn’t yet put in the trash so we assumed it was that.
About this same time we were preparing dinner because Rose’s sister and here family were in town and coming to our house for dinner. That’s when we noticed the water was backing up in the sink. I had no Draino or sink plunger or time to go get one. The water drained out slowly and we were able to get through dinner but I had to wash dishes a few at a time.
Before I did anything else Sunday morning I decided to take off the P-trap and clean it. Unfortunately, the P-trap only unscrewed from one end. The other end was glued. It was hard but I managed to get the one side to separate from the other.
I was about to go to Home Depot to get an auger but Rose starting complaining loudly about how horrific it smelled in the house and I needed to look under the house to see what died. At that time, my human nose was starting to smell something. It was faint but it was there.
I found my flashlight but of course the batteries were dead. It needed three batteries and I managed to find two. Wonderful. “What else could go wrong?” I did manage to steal a battery from one of Rose’s beauty instruments, and went outside to see what I could see. I didn’t see anything but there were flies so I knew something had died under the house.
I went to Home Depot and got an auger and ran it through the p-trap but there was no obstruction. I then ran it down the main line as far as it would go but found nothing. At around this time, I don’t remember exactly when, Frankie escaped. I didn’t pursue him but worked on the drain for awhile hoping he would return but after a half hour he still wasn’t back.
I took another look under the house and that is when I found it. It was difficult to see and considering how close to the edge it was I was surprised I missed it. I couldn’t tell what kind of animal it was but I feared it was a cat because it had what looked like a cat’s paw.
Rose said, “You’ve got to get that out of there. I can’t take the smell for another day.”
“I know,” I said, “but it’s just too gross.” It wasn’t just the smell, it was the flies too. And if it was a cat I would be very sad to see that.
I needed to go back to Home Depot to get masks and gloves and a heavy duty drain cleaner but I didn’t want to leave before I found Frankie so I decided to go out looking. By then it was close to 11:00 and it was already hot and humid. I had walked around a little already but now I got my bike out and peddled around the neighborhood. After twenty minutes I gave up and came home.
When I got home I grabbed a can of flying insect killer and sprayed around the area where the dead animal was, which happened to be next to the air conditioner. That was probably how the smell was getting into the house. When I walked back around to the other side of the house I saw Frankie on top of Rose’s car. He meowed at me as if to say, “Where have you been?”
Now that Frankie was home I headed back to home depot. When I returned Rose and I put on masks and gloves like we were part of a hazmat team. I have a grabber tool so I brought that and a shovel to the other side of the house. I removed the bricks and used the grabber to pull out the animal which was a tabby cat. So sad. That is not something I ever want to do again.
It is now almost 4:00. My son is coming over around 6:00 but the drain cleaner didn’t work and our sink is no longer draining slow. It is not draining at all and both sides now have two inches of dirty water. We were going to cook dinner but now we need to make other plans. I did not really want to fight the crowds at a restaurant on Father’s day but we have no choice.
Here’s hoping all the Dad’s out there are having a better day.
Update: We ended up ordering takeout. My son came over and we ate pizza and watched a movie. The day certainly ended better than it started.
I logged onto Twitter today to update the logo for Bad Cat Chris. When I did I noticed a blank birthday field so I decided to put Chris’s birthday, May 14, 2009. That was a mistake. I immediately got a notice that my account was locked because I don’t meet the minimum age requirement.
I was given no option to go back and change the date. What if I accidently chose the wrong year? Or I was writing for a cat? I understand they have to be diligent about keeping minors out but I added the date voluntarily. There was nothing there before. If I added it I should be able to correct it while still logged in. This was like saying hi to my friend Jack while boarding an airplane.
Anyway, I had to send them a copy of my drivers license and wait. They say they are busy and it could be awhile. I also worry about what will happen when they find out my name is not really “Bad Cat Chris.”
Cats can be so cute when they nap together
Floki was napping with Chris until I woke him up trying to get in a better position to take their photo.
Here is what they looked like before I rudely interrupted their nap.
I thought it was time to update the logo for Bad Cat Chris. I have some experience with design but not with illustration. I wish I was an illustrator. Years ago I found enjoyment in drawing funny cartoons. I thought the content was great but the art was terrible. I tried to learn to draw to no avail so I just let the idea of becoming a cartoonist fall away.
This time I wanted to find someone with talent to help me out. I heard about Fiverr several years ago but since I make no money on my blog I didn’t really have a need for professional services. I decided it wouldn’t hurt to spend a little money to improve the look of the site a bit. I also wanted the image of Chris to more resemble the real Chris.
My biggest obstacle was that I didn’t really know what I wanted. I decided to look at the artwork from several artists and see if someone struck a chord with me. I settled on alicialucdesign because the first picture that came up was a cute illustration of a dog that I thought was the right style and she also had beautiful cat illustration so I knew she could draw cats.
There are three levels of illustrations you can get from Fiver; basic, standard and premium.
I don’t know if these specifications are specific to the designer or to Fiverr, probably the designer. My first thought was to go with the premium but I had no idea what I wanted in the background. I was not even sure what I wanted in the foreground.
The order process was pretty easy except I hit a bit of a stumbling block. There was no way to type instructions for the job on the web page. Instead, there was a button for uploading the job specs. Since I had no specs, only basic instructions, I had to write them down in a text file and then upload that file. If I was designing the Fiverr website, would have put a text box for instructions and an upload button for additional materials.
Anyway, I gave her a link to the blog and another link to Chris’s tenth birthday post because there are many photos of Chris in that post. I asked her to create an illustration that resembles Chris. After that, Fiverr asked for money. The total was $22 which included a $2 service fee that I assume is Fiverr’s portion of the transaction.
A day or two later I received an email saying the order was complete. I downloaded it and was very impressed.
It was almost what I was looking for but not quite. The description says there is an unlimited number of revisions allowed, which, I think, is just asking for problems. I worked in a print shop so I know how much of a pain some customers can be. I didn’t want to be a pain. I’m sure one revision would not have been a big deal but I wasn’t really sure what it needed.
I accepted the image as is and gave a $10 tip. Fiverr added another $2 service fee to my tip which seemed wrong but I suppose they have credit card expenses they have to pay. I also left a five star review but used speech-to-text from my phone which never works right. After I left the review I noticed there were several errors making it difficult to read. I tried to change it but there is no way to edit your review. I’m a bit embarrassed but at least my last name is not displayed.
I considered the image for a while and then made some very minor changes myself. I increased his smile ever so slightly and added whiskers, horns, and a halo. I then added a background and put a mouse next to Chris with it’s tail under his foot.
All in all, I think $34 was a bargain for such quality work. What do you think about Fiverr? What about the art? Do you have any suggestions on improving the final image?
Today is World Pet Memorial Day. It is a holiday supposedly created by the American Veterinary Medical Association but it is very difficult to find any mention of it on their website. It is also strange that an American organization would create a world event. Just as strange is the fact that the “National” Pet Memorial Day, in September, was created by the “International” Association of Pet Cemeteries and Crematories.
Regardless of who started it, I thought it would be a good time to talk about my dog Tasha. This does not diminish the memory of all the other pets we have lost but since I have not written much about Tasha on this blog I figured you might want to read more about her.
I believe it was April, 1976. I was twelve years old when my dad brought home a full grown female Doberman Pincher. Her name was “Natasha” but I don’t know who gave her that name considering where she came from.
The story I remember was that Tasha was a stray that was wondering around the neighborhood of a friend of my dad. Apparently, the two of them caught her and my dad brought her home. She had her tail docked and her ears cropped (although one ear flopped over a bit) so she must have belonged to someone. If someone dumped her it would be surprising.
She took to me right away. Back then I would watch television while lying on the floor. I don’t know why I wouldn’t have preferred the sofa. Perhaps the uncarpeted floor was cooler or perhaps other family members had taken the prime viewing locations. Whatever the reason, I would lie there and Tasha would lie next to me with her head on my pillow.
My memory is a little foggy so I don’t remember if this happened once or if it was a regular occurrence but one day Tasha started with her head on a little corner of my pillow. She then gradually took over more and more of that pillow. When I tried to retrieve some of that precious real estate I got growled at. I then got up and left her with the pillow.
Dobermans had a bad reputation back then. I heard they were used as guard dogs and many owners would beat them as puppies to deliberately make them more aggressive. Of course, they were bred to be personal protection dogs so they needed to be aggressive but also obedient. A trained Doberman would never attack without command.
I have read that today’s Dobermans are bred to be less aggressive and more of a companion dog but Tasha was already a great companion dog. I will admit, though that she did have some aggressive tendencies.
Shortly after we got Tasha one of my dad’s friends, Jack, came to the house for a visit. Jack was older than my dad and a bit of a hillbilly even though we lived in northern Illinois. He thought he would have a little fun with Tasha and started to pretend to harass me. He would slowly reach out his hand like he was going to grab me. While he was doing that Tasha was growling at him but he continued because that’s what Illinois hillbillies do. After about 30 seconds of warnings Tasha lunged forward and bit Jack in the hand. She didn’t hurt him badly but she did draw blood and put an end to his game.
When we got Tasha she wasn’t fixed and my parents didn’t get her fixed right away. That was a mistake because she loved to go outside and run and would sometimes escape, run around the neighborhood, and then slink back home an hour later. On one of those outings she got pregnant.
My younger brother and I shared a room. We had bunk beds and Tasha decided to give birth under the bed. I think we were away at school at the time. When we found her there it was a huge pain because we had to take the bed apart to get to her.
By then we had moved to a bigger house and had a partially finished basement that we used as a TV room. We put some blankets down and moved the puppies there. There were seven puppies if my memory is correct. One of the puppies had deformed front legs and I worred it wouldn’t make it. Tascha accepted the new location for a short time but wasn’t exactly happy with it.
My parents both worked and us kids went to school so Tasha was alone for a good part of the day. The first day we were gone after the puppies were born, Tasha decided that she wasn’t happy with the location we chose for her so she moved all her puppies to the sofa. When we got home we discovered that two puppies had fallen between the cushions and suffocated, including the one with the bad legs. It was very sad.
That evening, determined to keep her off the sofa, we layed three or four kitchen chairs on it. It didn’t work. She somehow managed to get herself and her puppies on the sofa between the chairs. We lost another puppy that day. I don’t remember what we did then but she was not able to get on the sofa after that.
One day a friend of my brother came through the basement door from the garage quite quickly which startled Tasha and she jumped up and bit him in the arm. Even though she drew blood it wasn’t an attack. It was more like a stern warning to stay away.
When the pups were old enough, my parents put an ad in the paper for free Doberman mix puppies but they didn’t tell me they did that. I came home from school and the phone was ringing off the hook. Dad’s friend, Jack, took one of the puppies and the other three were gone that evening. It seems people were interested in Dobermans and didn’t care that they were half-breeds.
Tasha also had a weird habit of suddenly getting agitated every once in awhile when people she didn’t know very well left the house. Occasionally, she would even nip them a bit. I was surprised to hear Richard Pryor talk about that in one of his skits. He said Dobermans will let you in the house with no problem. They’ll even show you where all the valuables are, but when you try to leave they turn into the Exorcist. “You can’t leave yet! I want to play!”
When my sister moved out, my brother took her room and I no longer had to sleep at the top of the bunk bed. Tasha then slept in my bed every night. That lasted until I was seventeen and bought a waterbed which was way more common back then. Tasha did not like getting on the waterbed and ended up sleeping on the floor. I felt bad about that but I didn’t anticipate that being a problem when I bought it.
Tasha loved food and would eat just about anything. The only requirement was that she had to see me eating it first. I could offer her a grape and she would refuse it but once I started eating them grapes suddenly became a great treat.
She also developed many styles of begging. If the puppy dog eyes didn’t work she would extend her paw. Surely shaking deserved a treat. If that didn’t work she would rest her head on my knee and give me the saddest look she could muster. Her go to was the drool. Whenever everything else failed she could count on the drool to get her food. It was pretty gross trying to eat while watching drool come out of her mouth so I always gave in and gave her something. I also always saved a little food on my plate and brought it up to the kitchen to leave for her. She knew whenever I was done eating and got up she was going to get something and got very excited.
She followed from the front when she thought she was going to get food. I would stand up and start for the stairs and Tasha would race up the stairs and wait for me at the top. This was something my dad once used to tease her. He got up with his plate of food and as soon as Tasha ran up the stairs, dad would sit down and wait. After about 30 seconds Tasha would come back down to see what was happening and the trick would start again. By the fourth time I had to yell at my dad like he was being a misbehaving child.
Tasha passed in April 1986, almost exactly ten years after we got her. Yes, I was a 22 year old still living with my parents at the time. I had plans on moving out but I feared what Tasha would think of me for leaving her behind. I was pretty sure I would not be able to take her with me.
She seemed perfectly healthy but one day she suddenly started foaming at the mouth. I thought she got into the cabinet and ate the laundry soap or something. When I let her outside she crawled under the deck and I had a hard time getting her out. She then hid somewhere in the house although I don’t remember where.
My parents brought her to the vet and left her there overnight. That night they got a phone call from the vet’s office saying that she didn’t make it. It was very heartbreaking. Apparently, she had stomach cancer. I can only hope it wasn’t because of all the food I was giving her. I was not the most healthy eater back then.
I moved out shortly after Tasha died and never had a dog again. The one exception was a Dalmatian named Ernie that we had for about a month. I was living with my now ex-wife. I believe it was around 1992. She brought Ernie home because a coworker had a husband that would abuse him. Unfortunately, my ex-wife was too much of a clean freak and after a week relegated Ernie to living outside. I felt bad for Ernie and soon found him a home with a co-worker of mine.
It wasn’t until I met my current wife in 1999 that I would have a pet again. This time it was a cat that eventually turn into two cats then three then four then six. Well, I think you know the rest of the story.
See if you can come up with a good caption for this. When you are ready, click here to see what I came up with.
I finally caught Floki on Friday and brought him to the groomer. You may recall my last effort ended in failure. This time I caught him by surprise, picked him up and almost lost him as he twisted and scratched trying to get loose. My wife helped me get him into the carrier and off I went with him to the groomer.
I bring him to a place called Heaven Grooming where he is handled very well by the groomer.
Normally Floki is well behaved at the groomer, which is very different than at home. It is impossible for my wife and I to trim his nails but a groomer has no problem. I think it is because he is nervous around strangers so he behaves. Unfortunately, the groomer is not as much of a stranger as she used to be so he did struggle a little this time but she handled him well. Hopefully, that trend won’t continue.
Bad Cat Chris 