Bug

This evening, Bug reminded me just how lucky I am. Somewhere along the line, I banked some really awesome kitty karma.

Bug, who started life as "Frankie", lived in a very small steel cage for six months of his life. He was less than three months old when he was put in the cage; nine months when I took him out of that cage. In the interim, he shared that cage with his brother, Freddie, who was adopted long before Bug was, and then with an adult female who was immensely obese.

When I went to that shelter, I was looking for a female calico who could be a companion to AJ when Amber, who was sick, left us. (Amber was seventeen and suffering with a tumor in her sinuses; Amber and AJ had been together AJ's entire life). The female housed with Bug was a calico, but when I picked her up, she struggled and hissed... plus, she felt pregnant. I know she was just obese, but, gosh, I couldn't see bringing her home if her first response was to hiss at me.

As I put her back in the cage, Bug, still named Frankie at that point, turned those golden eyes on me and put a paw out to touch my hand. I ended up pulling him out of the cage and holding him for a moment.... A moment was all he needed to steal my heart. He rolled around in my arms, purring like no other cat I've ever known, and then head-bumped me. He came home with me that day.

Within three days, he had full run of the house. He was respectful towards Amber and, towards the end of her life, would dash up to her, toss a paw over her neck and groom her head. In those last two months or so, Amber wasn't able to groom herself very well, so seeing him do that... wow.

Bug's treatment of AJ wasn't quite so respectful. Of course, AJ was a Diva and expected he'd treat her that way. He, however, wanted to *play!* And to him, play meant pouncing, tackling, rolling around on the floor, then jumping up and dashing into the bedroom. AJ did not appreciate this sort of play and wasn't shy about letting Bug know that. When AJ got sick, though, Bug adjusted his play and started treating AJ much more gently.

His relationship with me has been ...an exercise in adoration. Just this evening, he demanded space on my lap. He doesn't curl up in my lap the way most cats do; instead, he reclines in my arms, sitting like a small child might, and leans into me. Tonight, he kept looking up at me and reaching up to paw my face, to get my attention (he was sharing time with the laptop). He has me well-trained: each time he did that, I snuggled him closer and kissed his head and face, something he seems to love.

This is a common thing for him. Also, that look of adoration? Hugely common:

Did I mention he's also a complete ham?

AJ, beloved little AJ

So, yeah, part of this is about the cats. Those two above are Bug and AJ (the black one). AJ was the best kitty. She was old: 16 years old when this photo was taken. And she was a stickler for timetables. If I dared to stay up past "our" bedtime, she'd remind me that it was time for bed. Her first reminders would be gentle: a head butt and a glance at the bedroom door, a paw on my arm and a significant look towards the bedroom, or, perhaps, a wail from the bedroom that was intended to get me up off my duff and into that room. If I ignored those, she'd get more insistent: the paw on my arm would have claws extended, the head butt would turn into a full in-my-face head nudge, the wail would be in my face instead of in the bedroom.

On the opposite end of the night, she'd wake me up, too. Usually right about 5:30am. She would, at least, let me go back to sleep, though. She'd also stay in my bed, curled right next to my pillow with one paw touching me.

Once I added Bug to the mix, AJ's life didn't change much. The big change came when I had her life-long companion, Amber, put to sleep. After that loss, AJ did her best to go join her friend. Her teeth went bad; she ended up with one molar and three fangs. She stopped eating then her kidneys failed. I ended up giving her subQ fluid injections on a daily basis for several months. Eventually, she recovered (something her vet claims usually doesn't happen with renal failure).

But then she went downhill again. She lost weight despite eating voraciously; she lost her fur (ripped it out, actually). After a month of vet visits, a blood test showed that her thyroid was on the fritz. Twice-daily pills brought that under control, to a degree. About a month into that treatment, on a Tuesday, she went blind in one eye; by that weekend, she was bumping into walls and furniture: she was completely blind. That was tough to watch, but she seemed to be adapting. The following Monday evening, though, she suffered a stroke and couldn't figure out how to get out of a corner. It was, still is, heartbreaking.

Bumping into walls was one thing; having her cry in fear and frustration because she couldn't see and couldn't turn to her left, that was another. The next morning, she quietly let me hold her in the doctor's office as we waited for him to take us in back and put her to sleep. She's no longer by my side, but she's forever in my heart.

With her gone, I was left with just the very handsome and very affectionate little Bug.

Yes, I packed already. What of it?

The first time I traveled internationally, I overpacked by... well, by a ton. My grandfather had given me an enormous soft-sided piece of luggage (part of a set, actually) when I graduated from high school. The largest bag was... huge. I could have fit two dead bodies in there and had room for more stuff. The use it had seen in the ten years since high school was just as a convenient way to pack my wardrobe when I moved from one house to another. But then came my chance: I was heading to China for a few weeks.

Weeks? Oh my. What about clean laundry? What about... oh, there were so many possibilities and I tried to plan for all of them - which meant that I packed my entire wardrobe. Seriously. My *entire* wardrobe. What did I wear out of that? Well, I did wear quite a few things but the hotel had one-day laundry service for really cheap. I could have packed two pairs of shorts, a few shirts, some nice clothes and would have been fine. Instead, I practically needed a forklift to lift the bag I took.

Since then, I've learned how to pack. 

Currently, I'm preparing for a fourteen day trip to India and Nepal. It's going to be in the 100's in India and in the 80's in Nepal. I've managed to pack a decent wardrobe into my carry-on wheelie bag - and still have room for all the 'extras' like the universal electric converter, the microbacterial water filter and bottle, a pair of fit-flops (world's most comfy flipflops), and my toiletries. I have come a really long way.

What am I taking? Will I look like a bum?

I hope I won't look slovenly. That'd be terrible.

But I'm taking two pairs of shorts, six shirts, a couple of tank tops (for under the shirts), one pair of pants, one dress. Yup. Fourteen days on just that. It'll be good!

In the Beginning...

A new blog. Oo, boy.

Why am I doing a blog? Couple of reasons: one, a friend asked me to blog about my cats. Technically, that'd be three reasons - I have three cats. But... a blog focused on my cats? Really? *glances at the two who are nearby* Yeeaaahhh... I like my cats and they will be mentioned here, possibly often enough that this blog maybe should be called something creative like... oh, I don't know... "*CATS!* In Real Life!" or something equally catchy. But, really? Cats sleep fourteen hours a day or ...at least in my household, twenty hours a day, and that'd make for a boring blog. ("Day Thirteen: Little Timmy woke Bug up from his nap just so that Bug would snuggle with him while they both napped." Not happening, folks.)

So, yeah, I rather dismissed that friend's request (sorry, dear friend: I love my cats, but not quite that much; that doesn't mean I don't value your friendship!) but then my co-workers, who are quite a fabulous bunch of people, said that I should do a blog based on my travels. I haven't really been many places but I'm heading somewhere quite 'scary' and 'exotic' (by some people's standards) in a few weeks. Several folks claim to be eager to hear about my adventures and see the photos I take. This is the suggestion that is getting me off my duff to start a blog.

Another suggestion was also made: that I blog about weight loss. *sigh* Weight loss... that's the baggage I carry around. I like food, lots. Many of my travel adventures will be about the food I encounter (for example, in Paris, there was this really divine.... oh, that's a story for later, nevermind). I didn't grow up with a healthy relationship with food and now I'm working to set it right. Some of the entries here will be about food, health, diet. Those terrible things that often sidetrack us from being happy with ourselves and living our lives.  Don't worry, I'll warn you when the post is about weight loss. (And on that note: I lost 3.2 pounds this week! Yay!)

So, we'll see how long this lasts and whether I ever figure out how to post pictures or post from the iPhone or from wherever my travels take me.