armyofsnails: (Default)
How he moved his ears to and fro when I said "kitty". He often responded to this word better than to his own name.

How he always tried to climb into my face when I was asleep.

Him following me all over the house and walking around me in circles. In the morning, he would come into the bathroom with me and watch me brush my teeth.

The way he arched his neck upwards with an expression of utter bliss on his face when I scratched his neck or the top of his head, between the ears.

How he used to gallop across the lawn towards me when he saw me pulling up on my bike as I returned home from work. Steve called him "dog cat" because of his complete devotion to me which for a cat was quite unusual. Read more... )
armyofsnails: (Default)
Steve wrote an obituary for Milo.
armyofsnails: (Default)
My cat is dead.

He got run over by a car early this afternoon. By the time I got back home the neighbours had already buried him. I spoke to our next door neighbours whose garden he crawled into just before he died. They stayed with him until the end and afterwards dug out a grave in the front garden. The man made sure the grave was fox proof and even bought some flowers from B&Q and planted them on top.

I'll never forgive myself for letting him out again. Should have kept him in the house after that fox incident...

Oh for fuck's sake, WHY did he decide to go over the road that time??? He had never done that before. NEVER. He would just sit in our back yard quite happily the whole time. The road is very quiet, too. The woman at the wheel wasn't looking where she was going.

Lots of cats live here and according to the neighbours there hasn't been an accident like this in years... Why him? Why now??

At least he didn't suffer for long... Ten minutes if that, according to the neighbours... They think his spine got broken so he probably didn't feel much pain. That's the only thing I can hope for.

I'm in fucking pieces.

I look at his full food bowl or his toys and start crying again.
armyofsnails: (Default)
Oh, and Milo is snoring like a motherfucker.

I gave him some catnip leaves at 4am because otherwise he would have tried to destroy me with his insane activity. Catnip makes him hyperactive for about ten minutes, and then he falls asleep. Soooo convenient when I need some peace in the house.

It's like humans and beer I guess (apparently I only ever snore when I've had beer... true for a few other people I know).
armyofsnails: (giant head)
The cat saga has reached its final chapter. Milo is now safely out of his surgical collar and free of stitches. I had to dash to work straight after dropping him back at home, but according to Steve he's spent at least an hour afterwards cleaning himself like the true obsessive-compulsive that he is.

Now he is sitting on the window sill with that King of the Smug expression on his face. Kitty life is definitely back to normal.

The wild adventure... )
armyofsnails: (Default)
This is the best guidance I've found on force feeding cats medication.

That seems OK? It will clearly require for the surgical cone to be removed. No other way of doing it as far as I can see.

So, not just one impossible task but two...

Wish me luck.
armyofsnails: (giant head)
I took him to the vet again this morning. Apparently the slow release antibiotic isn't doing its job as well as it should. He's had another injection, and in addition I've been given a week's supply of Baytril tablets.

In the past, I have repeatedly tried to feed him tablets but without much success. If I hide it in a block of spam meat (his favourite, and also very smelly so in theory should work), he neatly eats around the tablet. If I crush it with food, he refuses to touch the food. I have not tried to wedge his mouth open yet and force feed him, but because I'm such a wuss it's bound to fail. Hence all his routine medicines including deworming are spray-on.

So what the hell am I to do?

He's on for another visit on Monday morning and it will be touch and go after that. Hard to tell how many more visits will be needed. Providing all goes well his stitches will be taken out in ten days' time.

Everything is turning out a lot worse than I could have anticipated.

To top it all off, I've spent my last penny on his operation so I've no idea how I'm going to pay for any subsequent vet visits. Sure, the insurance will eventually cover it but in the meantime I have to cough up the money upfront.

The vet recommended wiping down his wound with salt water every now and then. Luckily I still have a couple of free days when I can stay with him and keep doing it. At least while he has the cone on he can't bite me easily. (Turns out, it is called "Elizabethan collar" after all. Live and learn).

On the bright side, I'm now famous with all the Crouch End taxi companies. The operators recognise me by my voice!! One even started calling me "sweetheart" and "baby". So far I've spent around £100 on taxi fares to and from the vets so no wonder the cheeky fuckers love me so much.

Off to buy some clean cloths I can use for wiping... But first I'll have to move Milo who is clinging to my leg like there's no tomorrow.
armyofsnails: (Default)
He's back home and has stopped freaking out. Currently sleeping on the floor in the middle of the living room.
I've got the rest of the week off and have cancelled the Part 3 course so I'll be hanging around the flat keeping an eye on him.

I'm not surprised Jayne has let me off work so easily because she understands pet obsession better than most (her whole desk at work is covered with photos of her dog, and amongst other things she takes it to a hairdressers every month...)

Milo is fully coned up and not at all impressed with this dubious fashion accessory. He keeps bumping into everything, and every time he tries to brush against me his cone gets caught on my leg and he becomes extremely confused. The worst thing is when he tries to climb behind me on the computer chair and falls off because the cone is too wide to fit in the available space. His coordination is still fucked up by the painkillers and the anaesthetic too.

He looks like a member of the court of Elizabeth I. A very sad one. Read more... )
armyofsnails: (Default)
Be thankful your pet has never had an accident on a Sunday. Sadly, no such luck for me. )
armyofsnails: (kitty)
Steve went to a shop and bought a beefburger and a chicken burger. Heated them up in a microwave, laid them out on a big plate and sat down on the living room sofa. Admired them for a few moments, in anticipation of a nice meal. Meanwhile, the cat was playing on the floor with his favourite Christmas bauble. The cat perched in the corner, with eyes big and round like black moons, ready to attack. After a second of calculated hesitation, he jumped at the bauble. He lost grip and slipped on the linoleum floor, then slid under a plastic picture frame that stood leaning against the wall. The frame fell on him, he ran out from underneath it, leapt high up in the air and landed RIGHT ON TOP OF THE TWO BURGERS ON STEVE'S PLATE.

There are burgers and mayonnaise all over the living room. All I can say is thank Heavens it wasn't tomato sauce.

Out of all the places in the room he could have fallen on, it HAD to be the plate of food.

I'm laughing like an idiot and Steve is massively pissed off. The cat is staring at us, totally wired and confused. It's a shame cats can't laugh.
armyofsnails: (kitty)
It gets better, he's got a proper anti-cat now! Completely white, exactly the same size as him (which incidentally is not small).

They don't shout at each other; they merely stare, which clearly indicates that they are telepathic and communicate by using their powerful cat minds.

Which can only mean one thing for us ordinary folk: Our world is doomed! DOOMED!!! I've got my champagne and hookers ready, have you?


May. 8th, 2008 01:12 pm
armyofsnails: (Default)
I'm still alive, albeit without the Internet, and a Londoner.

We have an old fox, two crows, a magpie, a squirrel, and a big black cat living in our back yard. In the mornings, Milo and the cat stare at each other through the glass of the living room window and make the weirdest noises I've ever heard. It doesn't even sound like wailing... or anything that could come out of a cat's throat. It's more like singing. Maybe they are serenading each other? They look scarily similar to one another; I reckon the other cat is Milo's anti-cat and if they ever touch they will explode in a burst of energy destroying the Universe with it.

The fox has half of his fur missing, lives on the garage roof and hardly ever moves throughout the day. The magpie sometimes sits by him and he wouldn't even bat an eyelid. I guess Mr Fox gets plenty of food scavenging and has no need to hunt. Milo however goes nuts when he sees the birds, but he's not allowed outside yet.

It's really quiet, despite the fact that we're just around the corner from the town high street. All I hear is church bells and birds quarreling in the bushes.

A few days after we've moved here Boris Johnson has won Mayor... Steve has already started calling him "OUR BLOND ALIEN OVERLORD" and wondering "whether Boris has broken London yet", and I've had messages from friends regretting that we now have to live in Boris's manor... What fun times.

Brought to you from work - I've been so swamped by workload I couldn't even get round to a quick LJ update until now... More to come.
armyofsnails: (zen snail)
Over the past few days, it's been hailing, raining and snowing (with snowflakes bigger than my thumb, I swear!). This morning I woke up to a world covered with a sparkling sheet of snow. I've opened the window to let the cat out; he perched on the window sill looking down, utterly confused. Then jumped onto the snow covered grass and instantly recoiled, then retreated to the side of the building where a thin strip of land had remained clear, and just sat there, silently staring at everything. A big black shadow against a white background.

And of course my damned camera is broken so I can't take any photos.

The country, it appears, has come to a standstill with traffic jams, train cancellations and no flights from some airports. But that's nothing new. It's ridiculous that something so innocuous and lovely can cause so much chaos. Tomorrow there will be reports on the news of people stuck on the road for 36 hours and of the vast, VAST losses to UK business.

And one more thing I want to say in this connection is, What! The! Fuck?!?! It's end of March for god's sake. It didn't snow at Christmas (in fact, it was much milder then than it is now). I wonder whether mother nature got a bit confused and switched the seasons over.

I went to The Cure concert on Thursday at Wembley Arena. I had previously been a virgin to rock concerts (the nearest experience had been seeing Ian Anderson play with the London Symphony Orchestra in Croydon... doesn't exactly qualify!), so I was completely blown away. By my estimates, the Arena holds about 10000 and on that night it was packed to the brim. (Just checked - according to its official website the number is 12750 - so my guess wasn't too far off). It was the largest number of people I had ever seen in one place, about half of them standing on a flat section at the bottom, and the other half seated up in the air. The Cure played for three and a half hours without as much as a two-minute break. Towards the end everyone stood up and started dancing and chanting the lyrics to the songs. The feeling you get when you hear thirteen thousand people sing as one is... indescribable.

Oh, and another first - I had never before seen such a high concentration of people wearing black. At least one in thirty was a Robert Smith impersonator, complete with dodgy eye makeup and a gravity defying hairdo. However, overall it was quite a mixed crowd, despite the uniform colour - there were families, the father wearing a suit and a tie and his 2.5 offspring eating potato wedges; some old school Goths in their forties; a bunch of spotty youngsters; and lots of couples of my age (late 20s to early 30s).
armyofsnails: (Default)
Milo the cat goes for a walk outside every afternoon, after Steve gets home from work. Later on in the evening, as I pull up in front of the house on my Brompton, I see a huge black cat-shaped object torpedo across the lawn towards me and gallop around me in circles while I fold my bike. He waits for me to unlock the back door and runs into the house, demanding fusses and treats. This is very damn close to being the best part of my day.

He still gets terribly jealous of Steve, which is not helped by the fact that Steve finds the cat's attitude (cattitude?) hugely amusing and winds Milo up on purpose by pretending to be a cat and laying his head on my shoulder and purring. Milo then either tries to wedge himself between us in an attempt to separate us, or goes into the corner and sulks for half an hour.

Currently Milo is using my tits as a sun hat.


Mar. 18th, 2007 03:54 pm
armyofsnails: (cat)
That about sums me up...

armyofsnails: (Default)
In the morning, before leaving for work, I usually do some quick workouts on the living room floor. Milo has been observing me with keen interest for some time, but lately has decided it is time for him to "join in". His "participation" in the exercise normally involves running backwards and forwards under my belly as I do my usual fifty push-ups, and jumping across my legs when I do the sit-ups. Makes it bloody difficult for me to carry on, I tell you...

Also, the other day he stole Steve's mobile phone and hid it in his cat basket.
armyofsnails: (Default)
From us and our crazy but wonderful cat!

And the rest... )
armyofsnails: (fear me)
This morning I bought three huge sharon fruit for a pound at a greengrocer's around the corner from the office. The fruit are now sitting on my desk glistening with orange enormousness and distracting me from doing work. (What is it about keeping fruit on desks in offices? Everywhere I've worked people have always been doing it, so I've started doing it too.)

Walking past the office kitchenette a little earlier I overheard a guy trying to explain to a Portuguese girl what the word "curmudgeonly" means. It reminded me of one occasion when Steve had tried to teach me colloquial English, including words like "thingamabob" and "oojimaflip". For a long time afterwards I was convinced that he had made up these words to poke fun at me - that is, until I heard someone else use them. Read more... )


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