Thank GOD my bastard neighbors are moving.

I live in a duplex, and my neighbors have a dog. My bigger dog is very protective, and goes nuts any time they let their dog out. She also will bark when he's just at the back door. So tonight I let her out, and after a few minutes she starts barking. I rush to the back door and call her in, but my neighbor's jerk boyfriend is already outside--exciting her more--complaining about "every night at 2:30 this has gone on for the past four nights!"

What's gone on? Ten seconds of barking? Their dog must be whining at the door or something--which is clearly my fault, right? I have a horrible feeling they're going to complain to the property management company about me. I guess I'll have to start letting the dog out the front door at night.

I've been checking the humane society's website every day, looking to see if my pretty mister gets put in the adoption area. Today, he was posted. They even kept the name I gave him. I'm fighting back tears now, I miss him so much. But I know I did the right thing; he'll be happier with a different owner who has more time and space for him.

Some day, I'm going to have a giant house and I will rescue many, many kitties from shelters in memory of my mister.

My dad drives me absolutely nuts sometimes. There was no reason he couldn't have talked to me about what he was calling about last night. No reason for him to stress me out. I even told him that he was stressing me out, and he still wouldn't just tell me what was going on. Gah! Seriously! Gah!

Also, I'm feeling ever so slightly less scummy about the cat situation, since I'm 99% sure he's already listed on the adoption page. There's not a picture, but the description and age match and it's a new listing.

I still feel like crying when I think about him headbutting me and licking my chin; I still want to go and re-adopt him. But I can't. I don't have room, I don't have time, I just can't. Even though I miss him awfully.

I took that poor sweet beautiful cat to the humane society today. I feel worse than scum. I keep thinking of him in one of those tiny little cages and I start crying all over again. But I just couldn't deal with so many animals anymore. It was too hectic, and it was stressing them all out, and he deserved more attention and space than I could give him. And I'm allergic to him, moreso than the others. I've been pondering this for weeks, I'm not sure why today I finally did it.

I cried for 45 minutes before I put him in the carrier, and then all the way there; I broke down again when the lady took him from me, and I cried all the way home. He's so sweet and loving ... he'll be adopted, I'm sure of it. But I still feel like the worst scum ever for abandoning him.

I got my first tattoo last week. I'm thrilled with it, I love it, but I almost canceled because half an hour before my appointment, my dad called to tell me that our dog is dead. Or at least, he's almost certainly dead, he ran off into the forest a week before and never came home. I didn't want my tattoo associated with finding that out, but I'm glad I went through with it. I spent the next couple of days bursting in to tears at inappropriate moments, unable to stop thinking about all the terrible things that could have happened to our poor puppy. He was originally my mom's dog, so I had to tell her ... but I couldn't tell her the truth. I lied and said he died in his sleep so she wouldn't be as upset as me.

Now, of course, I can't cry to my usual support person about why I'm so upset, so I'm still struggling with it. But I did the right thing, her heart would've been utterly broken. Like my dad's is, he blames himself and he's just miserable. It just fucking sucks all the way around. I still can't really talk about him without crying.

And then I got a cold, just when I was starting to feel emotionally better. I've spent the last two days resting and sucking down juice and tea, and I think I actually feel worse than when I first got sick. Whining will end ... now.

So my classmate and her friends were going to give my pretty mister a home, as I said a couple of days ago. The next day, she called me and said her roommate had backed out--after she'd bought all the necessary supplies. The day after that, she said she'd take him anyway and her roommates could deal for the month before they move. That afternoon, one of her roommates went and told the landlord about the cat, so the landlord will now be doing random checks--which is particularly stupid seeing as one of them has a puppy they're not supposed to!

So Mister is still here. I had to change his ball-snipping appointment, because I couldn't pick him up that day; so a week from Wednesday he gets neutered, which will hopefully make my life easier. Everybody's getting along better, for the most part; but I can't risk kittens so I'm still having to sequester him a lot.

My classmate still might take him after she moves, if I still have him. For now, though, he's still here, and I'm still getting more attached.

That damn dog I took off my cousin's hands chewed the heel off my favorite pair of boots--the only ones I had that would actually zip up all the way. I discovered this when my foot slipped on the way to bed, and the side of my foot skidded over the pointy, jagged, exposed plastic and screw in the heel.

So now I have ruined boots and a half-centimeter deep pit in my foot. Fucking fabulous.

I have about five pillows for my bed, some I use and some I don't. The last time I washed them, I had one that was the odd one out. So for a while, it's been sitting on the floor between my washer and dryer, which the cats quite liked. Well, yesterday the big dog peed on it. Why? I have no idea. But I know it was her because she was doing that belly crawling, ears back thing.

To clean it (and one other), I used the "medium high" water setting and hot/hot cycle on the washer. I did a soak, with about a cup of white vinegar, for about half as hour, then a pre-wash to rinse that out. Then I soaked them in plain detergent water for half an hour and ran the wash cycle. One more wash cycle with detergent for good measure, and I popped them in the dryer.

I just took them out, and there's not even a stain! They're pristine and white again. And there's no smell--I stuck my face in both sides of both pillows and took a deep whiff. They're the same brand of pillow, and I can't even tell which one was pissed on.

Like I said, vinegar=magic.

I just got home from eight and a half hours at work, with a hell of a blitz at the end. When I first staggered out to my car in the snow, I thought I'd come home and just drop into bed like a giant sack of meat. But when I got home, I found I was less tired than I thought. It was still snowing, in sparse fluffy flakes. There were only a couple of inches on the ground, all fluffy and smooth and sparkly. It was almost one in the morning, so I let my dogs out front to run around a bit, and I stood out in the snow, letting flakes accumulate on my hair and my eyelashes, chasing my puppies around. They were so cute! The big dog was loping in circles, kicking up snow all over the place, and my little girl trotted around snuffling and snorting into the snow until her little paws got cold.

I planned to stay in then, but the big dog just looked so freaking happy that I took her back outside. She's at least eight years old, but she just wiggles and hops like a puppy when she's happy. So I grabbed my keys and walked with her to the grassy causeway between my neighborhood and the next. It's almost like a little park, with trees planted occasionally and fences on either side. I'd been wanting to take her over there, but there aren't any lights--but tonight was perfect because of the snow. All the light reflected off the snow; the air was gorgeous and clear, and it wasn't even that cold. My pup walked ahead of me, like she knew where we were going ...

And as soon as we got to the grass, she took off! It was hilarious. She just ran flat-out as fast as she could for about a hundred yards, then circled back and made figure-eights around me. She did that for about five minutes. Every one in a while she'd stop and sniff at something, or just look at me, until I called her--and then she'd sprint back to me, ears back, tongue lolling, barreling at me like she would knock me right over. I could practically feel the joy coming off her, and I wouldn't be surprised if my laughter woke up light sleepers in the nearby houses. It was just gorgeous.

After about ten minutes, though, she would stop and look at me and then back toward to house. So I started tromping back, and she ran ahead. When she ran through the gap in the fence I got a little worried, so I started running. When I got to the fence, though, I saw her trotting up the sidewalk to the front door. She waited on the step for me while I crossed the street and the yard, panting and wiggling and just so happy (I tried to take a picture with my phone, but as you can see I caught a snowflake instead of a dog!).

My hair was covered in snow, my pants were soaked, me and the dog were both wet and a little cold, and we were both happy anyway. It was a perfect ending to the night.

I just went to put something in dumpster, and it's a gorgeous night out there. The sky is clear, the grass is frosted, and I could see my breath. Even with a big streetlamp right over my driveway, the sky is clear enough, and the air still enough, that I could see the different colors of some of the stars. The grass was sparkling, crunching beneath my dog's feet as she ran around like a lunatic; and even though I was cold I stayed out a couple of extra minutes, watching my breath mist in front of me, listening to the silence, and feeling like I was the only person in the world.

Several posts ago, I wrote about my glasses vanishing and about Mister escaping. Well, I found my glasses again--by stepping on them in the middle of my room floor. They absolutely were not there yesterday--I walked across that same patch of floor twice to fill my humidifier. It's possible a cat was playing with them, but that still doesn't explain how they vanished from between my bed and my vanity. Still, I'm glad to have them back--even though they are slightly bent from stepping on them.

And Mister was out again when I got home. I know I closed the door--I checked it. It's either ghostly activity or my third charity case animal, the big dog, got the door open with her teeth somehow. I wouldn't put it past her, she's a very smart puppy, but the door handle doesn't have fresh scratches or slobber on it. Still, I might sprinkle cayenne pepper on it before I leave tomorrow night just in case!

I really hope I don't have to take care of a litter of kittens. I don't think I will--Isolde's not acting like she's in heat. And the obsessive dog's attention probably kept him from getting too close to anybody--she's just freaking determined to sniff him, keeps rooting around under him and whining at him. So hopefully there won't be any kittens.

He is getting along with the other cats better though--Isolde isn't obsessive, luckily, and her sister is just very curious (that's her in this picture). They're just so damned cute.

Two nights ago when I came home from work, my living room light was on. Which was weird--I know it wasn't on, because I checked. But things like that happen around here all the time, I'm sure I have a ghost in my house. It scared me a couple of weeks ago, actually--I was just sitting here and I suddenly hear a voice coming out of my spare room. It sounded like a little old lady, sort of croaking "Hello?" I've read in books about getting goosebumps from fear, or feeling like your hair is standing on end, but I've never experienced it before that night. I wanted to run screaming, but I sat and pretended to ignore it--figured the more attention I pay to the ghost, the more it'll bug me.

A lot of random crap still happens, though; and last night was a prime example of that. Yesterday morning I was awoken by the clatter of my glasses falling behind my bed, courtesy of one of my cats. Last night when I was getting ready for bed, I went to retrieve them. I could see my glasses, between my bed and my vanity. I know they were there; I could see them, but I couldn't reach them. I got my handy bamboo back scratching stick and was using it to slide my glasses out of the crack between furniture .... and suddenly, they weren't there. I thought at first they'd just slid under the vanity, so I prepared to move the whole thing. I dragged my old horse's saddle out from under the vanity, took my lamp and iPod speaker off the top of it, and started edging it forward.

I ended up dragging the thing all the way out from the wall, feeling under it, looking under it .... and my glasses are just gone. WTF? They literally disappeared. My bed is directly on the floor, no frame, so they couldn't slide under there. They're just gone. I'm sure most people reading this are going to think I'm just dumb or crazy, but I swear. A lot of other bizarre things have happened too.

So when I came home last night and could see from outside that there was a light on, I thought it was just another random screwy occurrence. Nope. The bathroom door was open, meaning Mister had been out mingling with the population for god knows how long (and the dogs had gotten in his litter box and I had a huge mess to clean up off the floor). I don't think Isolde is in heat--she's not acting like it--but I'm not sure how cats' ovulation cycles run, so I'm going to have to watch her and see if she starts getting fatter. Goddamn it.

I must not have shut the door all the way when I left, and then one of the dogs nosed it open. I've got to get Mister's nuts cut off so this doesn't happen again--it's just a matter of finding the time, which I probably won't be able to for another few weeks. See, there's a place that'll do it for $15--but I have to drop him off an hour away at seven in the morning and pick him up at three, so it's going to have to wait until I have a full day off. And if I'm going to make that trip, I might as well cough up another $25 and get Isolde spayed on the same day.

God I hope I'm not going to have kittens. I love 'em, they're squishy and adorable, but so not what I need right now.

I know I shouldn't keep him, but every time he butts his nose against my cheek and licks my face I just don't know how I can give him away! Plus it seems too odd and almost like I'm supposed to have him--if I hadn't met a friend at a bar, and then given her a ride to her other friend's house, and then stayed there and had a glass of wine, I wouldn't have run in to my neighbor and I wouldn't have known this cat even existed. And I said it's weird and destined because I almost never, ever go out like that! And I didn't have a reason to. I wasn't bored; I didn't want to drink; I had plenty of other stuff to do; I just sort of went. It was weird.

Anyway, I still don't know what to name him. I've just been calling him Mister for now. I was thinking of naming him Tristan, because he's not neutered and my cat Isolde isn't spayed, and they are not allowed to make babies dammit! But it doesn't fit him. My friends and coworkers keep suggesting things like Morris, Chester, or Oliver, but those just aren't him either.

I was also thinking about Rhys, just because I like it; or Haven, which is a werelion out of the Anita Blake books. But I just don't know.

My neighbor has been evicted; he's spent the last 12+ hours clearing out his house and packing a trailer. He was supposed to be out by midnight, but it's 4:20 a.m., and I can still hear him bumping around on the other side of the wall. I talked to him tonight and he's moving out of state, to where his girlfriend lives. Unfortunately, he has two cats and his girlfriend is allergic. One he's found a home for. The other he asked if I wanted, or if I knew somebody, because otherwise he'll take him to the pound.

I need another cat like a damn hole in the head. I need another cat like I needed another dog. I really cannot take any more stray animals in--I'm already over the limit, buried in pet hair, and without enough attention to spread out to the five I have. I don't know anybody who wants another cat; my family members are all full up on pets and/or don't like cats. I haven't heard any of my friends talking about wanting a cat. If I go knock on his door and take in this cat to try to find him a home, the chances of me actually finding him a home are ridiculously low.

But ... how can I just let a poor innocent kitty go to the pound? I know how many cats end up in the pound, and I know how many never leave it alive. The shelters do the best they can, of course. And I can't save every animal in the world. And I need to not be such a soft-hearted idiot and take problems on to myself.

But since talking to my neighbor two and a half hours ago, I've thought of almost nothing else. It kills me to think of a cat I might be able to save being dumped in a shelter and living in a little box.

Just typing this crap out just made me crack. I went next door and took the cat. He's not neutered, and one of my girls isn't spayed, so I have to keep him isolated. They'd make pretty babies, but that's just not something I need to be dealing with right now. In fact, I don't need to be dealing with any of this right now, but .... yeah. I'll see if anybody I know wants him; if they don't, I'll take him to the no-kill foundation a few towns over.

But right now, I have another cat. FML.

None of those things are connected. It's one of those posts.

My poor little dog had surgery today; my mom took her to my aunt, who's a vet. She removed a half pound fatty tumor from my poor pumpkin's chest. She also cleaned her teeth ... or tried. Apparently some of them were basically wedged in by tartar, so my poor baby is coming home with half her teeth in a bag.



I noticed at work today that one of my coworkers gained weight while she was gone for the summer. I don't mean this in a catty way. The only reason I noticed this is because she's in denial and won't buy new pants. Instead, she's got them really low on her hips, cinched in with a belt, which creates a muffin top that extends a good three inches out from her belt. It makes me sad; I'm sure she hates the fact that she's changed, and thinks as long as she "fits" into those size X pants, it's not that "bad". I wish there was a way I could suggest she get new pants without humiliating her utterly, because it really is the pants and not her body, but I know from past things she's said that she's insecure about her body as it is.



And finally, my grandmother said something today that absolutely left me speechless. Out of the blue, she brought up a couple of college women who were raped in their dorm rooms recently .... and said they deserved it. Why? Because they left their windows open. She said that of course the men shouldn't have done it, but the women were asking for it by having their windows open. I literally could not find a thing to say, I was so shocked.

Thinking I might even lock the animals out of my room tonight as an experiment. Of course, if they're not disrupting me by walking across my head, they'll probably disrupt me by scratching at the door.

I don't think they're really the root of the problem anyway; though I did have an odd experience this morning. The big dog had curled up on the bed next to me, sort of under my arm; I fell asleep, and woke up when I shifted over a little ... and rolled completely over because there wasn't a dog there anymore. Startled the crap out of me, actually.

And maybe they are the problem. I don't remember being so perpetually exhausted at my first apartment, where pets weren't allowed. Of course, I don't really remember when it started, either, so that could just be selective memory.

I should probably stop putting off going to bed by talking about it!

Also, I know there've been a lot of those "sponsored posts" lately; just gotta take advantage of them while they're available. Not that I blog for money, exactly, but if I can make an extra $30? Why not! Trying to still provide enough regular content in between!

So I was just getting ready for bed; I had just taken my contacts out, actually. One of my cats was making this hoarse, quiet meowing noise, and I didn't know why. Well, I think she smelled something through the open bedroom window, because a minute or so later I heard this horrible screaming, yowling noise outside. The dogs started going nuts, yapping and barking; I pushed past them and out the front door, but the noise had stopped.

Instead, there was my neighbor, in his boxer shorts, carrying a sword.

He saw a fox dart into the underbrush, dragging something; we suspect it killed somebody's cat. My neighbor got a flashlight and shone it under the bushes, thinking the fox might still be there, but it'd found a hole in the fence and was long gone. His girlfriend came out too, and she was really upset; they had thought it was one of their cats, because they couldn't remember if they'd let him back inside at first.

Just one of the reasons my kitties aren't allowed outside.

Yeah. New dog. I didn't want another dog. But if I didn't take her, she was almost certainly going back to the pound--and with one police report for biting and being 8-9 years old, she wasn't likely to get adopted. She's a good dog, she was just being mistreated, and I couldn't live with her being sent off to probably die. Not when she behaved perfectly for me.

She was originally my cousin's dog. When my cousins were probably 8 and 5, their mom got them puppies from the same litter. They had them for a couple of years, but then the oldest girl's dog started acting up. I don't remember exactly how; but I know that my aunt took her to her "friend's farm"--which would be the pound.

Shortly after, they got her another dog from the pound, and my cousin named her America (why? because she was nine, that's why). Her sister got a dog too, and for a few years everything was fine. Then they moved into their current townhouse, and a couple of days later the other dog got out and got killed on the road.

So a year or so later my aunt replaced the other dog; I don't remember where she got this new dog, but she got rid of him not long afterward too--because he wasn't housebroken. So again, to the "friend's farm". A year later, they came home from a trip to Texas, dragging another new dog behind them. This one, my aunt knew wasn't housebroken--she was six months old and had been a dog running around loose on a ranch. She also wasn't spayed, which I had the pleasure of informing my aunt of when the dog started bleeding all over the house.

The first year or so things were okay--the new dog was going in the house, but seemed to be getting better. Of course, the two cats were terrified of this new dog and one of them literally starved to death under my cousin's bed. I've always felt terrible about that--I didn't realize he wasn't coming out ever until it was too late. I pulled him out from under the bed and got him out of the house, but he died a week later.

Anyway, after a year or so, both dogs started going in the house all the time. So they started keeping them in crates at night, and when neither of the kids was home. And then my older cousin started high school; she started honors classes, and track, and golf, and theater. And she stopped spending any time with the dog.

Predictably, the dog's behavior got worse. She was incredibly hyper; she crapped all over the house; she started attacking the other dog. She'd never liked the kids' father, and would attack him. Then she bit a neighbor girl; then she bit a neighbor woman, although she was startled and I don't really blame her. But that woman called the cops and threw a fit, even though I've hurt myself worse shaving.

But after all this, nobody was willing to watch the poor dog when they went on vacation in March. I didn't want to; I wasn't sure how she'd do with my dog and my cats. But I agreed. And she was perfect. No messes in the house, no jumping the fence, no fighting with my dog, etc. So I offered to keep her a little longer; I felt bad for her.

About a month ago, my cousin finally came to get her dog. And two weeks ago, she called and asked if I'd keep her permanently. As soon as she was back in that small house, with urine-soaked wood flooring and a crate, and no yard, she started misbehaving again. She even bit my aunt. And this time, there was no talk of the "friend's farm", just the pound.

So now, in addition to a vile schnauzer with horrible breath, and three crazy cats, I've got a German Shepherd/husky mix. She's currently asnooze by my vacuum cleaner:

(You can also see a clump of hair on the floor next to her. She sheds like mad.)

It's not all bad. I do love her, she's really a sweet, smart dog. And I feel more secure--sometimes at night I'll sleep with my bedroom window open now. With a security stick, still, but before I had the dog I wouldn't even do that. (I'm very paranoid, because when I first moved out on my own there was a serial rapist breaking into single womens' homes .... all within a couple of miles of my house.) And she does seem to make my schnauzer a little more active. So overall, I like having her here.

I say she's another accidental pet because one of my cats and my schnauzer were acquired kind of like this. The schnauzer I was watching while my mom was out of town, and when I tried to take her back the dog didn't want to go. And the cat ... well, she was my other aunt's, and I got attached to her, and then she couldn't find a home for her, and she already had three cats and two dogs, and .... hey, that's where I am now! Dammit.

Of course, I've only been awake for an hour, so there's time for that to change. Days I can sleep in make me happy. :) I also woke up surrounded by my pets, which made me smile. I usually have my dog and one cat snuggled up to me, but today I woke up with one cat on the spare pillow in front of me, one cat snuggled against the top of my head, my dog between my back and my other spare pillow, and my other cat stretched out along my legs. The cat at the top of my head was grooming me--and she's the least lovey of my kitties.

I love my furbabies. :)