Mr. Fluffypants 7/20/2009 - 11/6/2020

You know what sucks?  Printing the e-receipt from the veterinarian where you just had the best cat you’ve ever known put to sleep.  

Mr. Fluffypants really was the best cat I’ve ever known.  (Why else would I name my blog after him?) He was always pliant and loveable when you needed him to be.  A little playful and silly, but mostly loveable.  He wasn’t the kind of cat who didn’t care what you wanted.  He cared.  He cared what you wanted, how you felt, if you needed a snuggle. He’s the reason one of my children made it through kindergarten, and first grade, and second grade. (School wasn’t her thing for a while. She’d cuddle him at the end of the day though, and all was right with the world.) Mr. Fluffypants was a lover, through and through. He’d hold your hand with his paw and aggressively snuggle, even if what he really wanted was some canned food.

Right now, my heart is breaking. I want to hear his big purr and feel his fluffy feet.  I want my kids to laugh as they sing the funny song they made up for him. I want to tease him about being smelly (his only flaw). That is not to be though.  It’s just me and my sad heart, not looking forward to telling the kids. 

Freddy Has Left the Building

Freddy
June 20, 2009 - September 16, 2019

A few weeks after my dad died, my mom’s cat had kittens the day before Fathers Day. It was a sign. We had been looking for a kitten for my girls so I asked my mom to tame them for us (her cats are mostly feral farm cats). She did a great job of visiting them every day and teaching them about humans. They were pretty little white things with big blue eyes and friendly as they could be. When the time came to choose one, of course my girls each wanted a different cat. I called my husband and said “What would you think if we brought two cats home?” He thought I was kidding and said "do it". He knows now I do not kid about two cats instead of one. Each girl happily held their kitten and smiled all the way home.

Freddy and Mr. Fluffypants and their adoring girls.

His favorite chin rest.

My younger daughter, at three and a half, couldn’t choose between many wonderful names like Sparkle and Sunshine. My oldest, at almost seven, quickly named hers after a TV character, Freddy from iCarly. From the start Freddy was a real character himself. Playful and silly, he was the more energetic of the two. He was spunky and smart. He loved teasing our slightly older and much grumpier cat, Birdie. Menda, the other kitten's eventual name for a while until he became Mr. Fluffypants, was funny and fun, too, but he was also content to snuggle for hours if that’s what his girl wanted. Freddy was good for a very short snuggle and then he was off again. Freddy played with our dogs and stalked birds in the yard. He chased yarn and jingly toys all day long. He was also a strange cat. You never knew where you'd find Freddy or what he'd be up to. He was the kind of cat who wriggled into impossible places and would bat at your hair from behind when you had no idea he was even there. He also drank with his paw like a raccoon. Or, he'd put his paws on the side of the bowl and lean all the way across the bowl to drink from the far side. And nobody liked a chin rest more than Freddy. He loved to lay under our coffee table and rest his chin on the cross pieces, or use the backs of our bar stools as chin rests. It became a family joke how good he was at finding places to lay with chin rests. His love for Squinkies - tiny rubber toys that bounced crazily when he'd bat them across the room - was unrivaled. He was known to have a little stash of them in a closet because he'd knock them under the door then come begging for another when he realized he had lost one. Even as an older cat Freddy was playful, right up until last April.

We had been teasing him about getting kind of chubby, but one day I noticed he wasn't so chubby anymore. I started paying attention to his condition and what he was eating. He had kind of gone off dry food. I thought it was his teeth. I took him to the vet who diagnosed one thing and treated it, but the treatment didn't help. Another vet concurred with the first vet, but by this time Freddy had other mysterious symptoms. Blood tests were inconclusive. The second vet prescribed an antibiotic, which helped a lot, until it was gone. Freddy went downhill again. Another antibiotic also helped, until it was gone. Freddy held his own for several weeks though, until he didn't. His final decline was dramatic. He went from eating well last Monday to barely eating by Friday to giving him water with a syringe on Sunday. I took him back to the vet, who by now had named him Freddy the Mystery, submitted him to more blood tests and brought another antibiotic home. He won't get to finish this one though. He woke me up this morning crying pitifully. He had crawled out of his bed but was too weak to go far. I held him for over an hour. I cried and told him thank you for being such a good friend to my kids. He breathed shallowly and his heart raced but he seemed to appreciate my warmth. After some time, he flopped off my chest onto the sofa and I got the feeling he was ready to be left alone. I laid him on a dog bed beside me where I know he is dying. Ironically, Mr. Fluffypants has unearthed a jingly ball and is chasing it around the kitchen. That seems an appropriate send off for his playful brother.

Rest in peace Freddy. You were a good cat.

Freddy loved laying on my son's giant stuffed penguin.

Back in his chubby days.

With one of his favorite toys - a squinkie!

Typical Freddy

Cat in a box.

He was a handsome devil.

I really did find them like this one morning. I guess he did like snuggling after all.

Young Freddy exploring.

Winter, I'm Tapping Out

The view from my warm truck beats the heck out of shivering in a nasty cold wind on icy sidewalks.

I try to be stoic about winter. I swear I honestly like it (😄). Well, I don’t hate it. I’ve been something of a wimp this week though, as temperatures haven’t risen above freezing for several days. I normally walk my son the short block to school no matter the weather because come on, it’s one block. Not this week though! Icy sidewalks, frigid winds, I’ve had enough. As I looked around in the drop off lane this morning, I noticed two of my neighbors also dropping off their lucky children. I felt a little less guilty about wimping out over 14 degrees and a little more confident in proclaiming that I am over winter! Got that Mother Nature?! Serve up some spring!

Book Review: How To Be A Good Creature

Click here to buy How to Be a Good Creature

     A friend gave this book to me.  The cover and title told her I'd like it.  She was right.  

Sy Montgomery takes my general love for animals and runs away with it.  An environmental reporter, naturalist and adventurer, she can only be described as captivated by all creatures, whether they be personal pets or subjects of scientific study.   Thirteen of the animals she lived with or studied and the lessons she learned from them are included here.  This isn't a terribly deep book, but I love reading about her love for the animals and knowing I'm not the only person who is sometimes irrational about a non-human companion.  The only thing that bothered me is she is sometimes guilty of anthropomorphism.  She even touches on that briefly, and notes that it can be difficult to draw that line.  I feel the same way, but her greater enthusiasm for the creatures around her I think pushed her over the edge occasionally.  That's not a deal killer for me.  I still enjoyed the book and have already thought of some friends I need to gift it to.

The Desert is Trying to Kill Me

This abandoned house and truck sit on a small parcel of land near the industrial center of my town.  It was once a homestead and farm.  You can see the Sagebrush and Rabbitbrush have reclaimed what used to be.

Rabbitbrush, starting to come into it's fuzzy glory.

I live in Utah’s high desert.  I love living here. The mountains, red rocks and sagebrush plains all make me very happy.  Its the most beautiful landscape on the planet in my eyes, especially in the fall. Too bad Utah tries to kill me (or at least pay dearly for living here) every year. We have a plant called Rabbitbrush which is very pretty to look at.  Dusty green/blue stems lead up to fluffy mustard yellow flowers blooming prettily right now. It grows everywhere the land hasn’t been plowed or paved into submission.  It's one of those bits of nature that just won't be tamed. My dogs love to rub on it. It also makes my eyes swell and itch. My head fills with fluids till my ears buzz and I feel like I may drown in the gunk. My joints ache and I can't sleep. Yay! Allergies!

Sagebrush smells dusky and rich. It is never prettier than
in the fall.

And then there’s the Sagebrush.  Another high desert plant I love which doesn’t love me back.  Sage also blooms right now, and grows alongside Rabbit Brush. I love the way it smells, especially after a little rain. It’s tiny silvery leaves and woody stems distinguish it from Rabbitbrush. And Sage is tough. Good luck trying to get rid of this stuff. Some of my neighbors have given up and incorporated it into the landscape around their houses. It looks pretty cool. There's a lot to admire about this scrubby little brush. Too bad the tiny chartreuse flowers are also suffocating. They stuff my nose and give me flu-like symptoms that, on a bad year, no allergy pills can touch. I am grateful I don't also have asthma like my sister. She really suffers through autumn in Utah.

I’ve gotten used to spending the end of September with buzzing ears, a hoarse voice, creaking joints and itchy eyes, living as near a humidifier as possible.  I do my best to go about my life, and keep loving the desert plants. They're some of the coolest life on earth. After all, you have to be TOUGH to bloom in the desert. One might think the desert would love me back and stop making me suffer for appreciating its prettiest time of year. Wishful thinking. I guess I should consider the amazing allergy inducing pollen one more inspiring defense mechanism of the Sage and Rabbitbrush.  I can’t plow them or pave them if I can’t breath.

My dogs love to snuggle up right up under the brush.  I think they like the scent, too.  Too bad for me
they then bring the pollen home.

The Email - A Micro-story

I was recently looking for a book in my old boxes of teaching supplies.  I haven't taught for almost 16 years but I still have a few boxes of my favorite resources and digging through them is always fun for me.  As usual, I not only found the particular item I was looking for, I also found a little unexpected something - this time a book of writing prompts I had occasionally used with my fourth graders.  It brought back good memories as I thumbed through it.  I read one prompt " You just received an email message from ___ and it said ___" and a lightening bolt zipped around my brain.  A little story unravelled faster than it took me to read the rest of the page.  I laughed a little, but then stopped.  I haven't written anything for quite a while, but I liked this idea.  I decided to write it down.  I call it a micro-story because it is very short.  I still like it.

The message was brief but she felt dread when she read it.  "I need to talk to you ASAP."

Given the state of their relationship, that could not be a good thing. Oh, there had been good times in the past, but now times were bad.  Very bad.  What communication there had been recently was brief and compulsory.  "We're almost out of toothpaste."  "Did you walk the dog?"  He had not forgiven her.

It wasn't her fault she had gained an admirer.  She had done nothing but go to work.  At first.  Michael had started it.  Charming, just-out-of-college-boy flirting was really fun.  She liked feeling young and fun again.  Being an adult could be SO boring.  But, young and fun led to lunch. Then lunchES.  Then long lunches.  Before she knew it Michael was being punched and shoved and thrown out of her apartment while she yelled.  He yelled back at her.  Lots of yelling.  The yelling did stop after a time.  She wanted to apologize.  She tried a few times but he wasn't having it.  He just glared at her.  She stopped trying.  She felt humiliated.  

He was calm.  He was cold.  There was no more yelling but there was nothing else, either.  For weeks.  Nothing.  Being together was torture.

When she saw the message she knew he had made up his mind.  He knew his next step.  She didn't like it.  She had been happily married. She wasn't with Michael because she was unhappy.  She hadn't wanted a divorce when she started flirting back.  She just got carried away.  It cost her.  The email staring back at her all but confirmed that.  

Suddenly, she sat up straight.  She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.  If she couldn't change his mind, she owed it to him to let go peacefully.  She would be brave, for him.

She hit reply and typed "I'm free this afternoon."  She swallowed hard and hit send.

Book Review: Game of Thrones, book 1

Game of Thrones : Literary Crack

Ohhhh, this book.... 

I had plans to read a handful of other books before year's end but I’ve also had the box set of the first five Game of Thrones books on my nightstand for a year now. I’ve been intimidated. They each clock in at nearly 1,000 pages and I knew enough about them to assume once I got started I wouldn’t want to stop. I was right. I guess those other books will have to wait. 

In an eight (possibly more) book series, I know the first book is just an introduction. This one is a doozy, a tour de force, one character after another, not always clear how they’re going to intersect later, hints at a deeper plot. Martin sets a brisk pace both with action and character introduction as well as mini-cliff hangers at the end of most chapters. It’s like literary crack. Hooked me instantly. In some ways I felt like I was reading the later Harry Potter books for the first time, when I had figured out it was no mere child’s fantasy series. Lots of subplots, perhaps a few extraneous but interesting people, maybe a red herring or two. Usually I’m pretty good at reading between the lines and quickly seeing where a story goes next, but with GOT, there are so many layers to the onion, I can see I’m just getting started. I love a book that keeps me guessing. 

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 

(Also published on my page at Goodreads.com - username Robyn Ekker and on Instagram - username myfluffypants.)

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