bethofalltrades: (Default)

I am such a bleeding heart.

There is a calico cat in the neighborhood who has always been very friendly. I assumed she was someone's outdoor (ugh) cat, being that she was so socialized.

Yesterday I stopped to pet her and she was very thin and dirty. I noticed that her nipples were swollen--- she'd had kittens recently.

I went to the store, got some food, and fed her. Sat and petted her for a bit and she looked up and me and the following conversation ensued:

Cat: You're mine and you'll be taking me home with you.
Beth: Um, I already have a cat and my roommates will be pissed if I do that.
Cat: Yeah, that's gonna suck for you, but I don't make the rules.
Beth: I've already promised the spot to someone else.
Cat: Uh, huh. Because three is SO MUCH HARDER than two.
Beth: If I bring you home, your kittens will starve.
Cat: Okay, stall if you want to, but this is inevitable, because you're MINE motherfucker.
Beth: Fuck you, cat, I am NOT bringing you home with me.
Cat: ... riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

Today when I went to feed her, I found a little orange kitten. His face was dirty and he came right over to me. So, I did what any reasonable person would do.

I put him in my bag and speed-walked home.

I gave him some water and towels and put him in a large box in the bathroom. Then I went back out for mom.

The man living nearby said that he saw four kittens at first, but only the orange one recently. I sat with mom for a while, petting her while she ate. Soon a different man came out of the house and told me I had to leave the property, but that I should take the cat with me.

After all, she was, he said, "just a stray."

I scooped her up and walked as fast as I could. She snarled and tried to bite me. Luckily David was there to open the door and I plunked her into the bathroom with kitten, where the two of them have been for the last half hour.

I am going to go look for the other kittens again, but if they haven't been seen in a week... the streets of Brooklyn are not an easy place for kittens.

For now, here's mom:

And baby (it's a boy):

I need to name them to take them to the vet... any suggestions?

bethofalltrades: (Default)


My dear friend [ profile] indecisean is trying to Do Good for animals. I love animals, especially Cinderella, who is a rescue. Sean has a rescue dog and wants to help the shelter who brought them together win money to help MOAR ANIMLS!

Go here and vote (pls?):
Click for Kitties (and Puppies)


I had a fever so high the other night that when I went to the kitchen to get a drink of water I couldn't walk back. Not that I was weak. I actually was trying to walk and kept staggering and flailing about. Anyone in their right mind would have woken someone else up, but I did the opposite because--- and this is the one clear thought I had--- if I woke someone up they would make me go to the hospital. And this seemed like a bad thing. So I took another try and ended up sitting at the foot of my bed and eventually crawled up onto it and fell asleep.

I imagine that I looked very much like what the rabid raccoon I saw once looked like. It would try to go in one direction and then would lurch and fall in another. Watching it made me very sad.

Scariest illness ever. But I'm feeling better now.


Moogie is here. She has been helping me clean cleaning my room since she arrived two weeks ago. My goal is to hang some art on the walls before she leaves.

This is terrifying. Hanging things on the walls makes it seem like I intend to stay. Nevermind that I've lived in this house for almost three years and this room for nine months. Permanance is terrifying.

Yes the thing that EVERY PERSON who comes in here says is, "But why is there nothing on the walls?"

I own the art. I really do! It's in stacks and piles and drawers and on shelves and in cabinets.

I haven't hung art on the walls since I lived at 210 N. Dithridge in college.

I have a fear of commitment to a location.


I am giving myself until January 17th to do my "2008 was" (tm Katrina) post. 1/17/09 is the THREE YEAR anniversary of my move to NYC. Holy shit.

bethofalltrades: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] bethofalltrades at 01:01am on 17/12/2008 under ,
When we were in Atlanta (best night of the tour, in my opinion--- low drama, high love, great crowd energy) at the Variety, I met a lovely little cat named Creamcheese Brownie.

She's part tortie and part big orange cat (yes, I'm making that a breed) and she walked right up to me and rubbed her head on my leg. I stopped to pet her and Lisa, the merch contact I was working with that night, said that I should take her home. I said that cats and tour buses do not mix so well, sadly because CB was definitely delightful. A little feral, but the best one usually are (cats AND women.)

CB lives behind the venue and ventures in occasionally during set-up for shows. She'd been around the Variety for quite some time and Lisa was concerned about how she'd fare during the winter months.

So. Internetz, make me proud. For Christmas I want a home (and a new name) for Creamcheese Brownie.

Folks not in Atlanta, think of people you might know there who need 10 pounds of half-tortie lovin' in their life. Folks in Atlanta, consider if you've got room in your home and heart for a sweet cat who's had a rough life.

I got this email from David tonight and it made me tear up a bit:
Do you ever think about how lucky our cats are? I mean, life didnt start out so great for either Sascha or Cinderella, but now they live with us, they get all the attention they could ever want, they have warm beds to sleep in, all the food they want, they are safe and warm and not abused, they have people who love them. Sascha is laying here on the bed purring up a storm. He is so happy and for over 15 years, he has been safe and loved. It is really a wonderful thing.

It is. Just today I curled up with Cinderella and felt so lucky to have her around. Just yesterday I almost kicked a girl out of my bed for criticizing her. I love that cat more than I've ever loved an idea, a city or a woman. And she's neurotic as hell and skittish and she hits when she's overstimulated and she is convinced that if I am out of her sight for a moment it means I'm NEVER coming back and she wakes up early when I'd rather sleep in late and I LOVE HER SO MUCH IT HURTS. And when I wake up in the morning to find that she's stretched out along my back, keeping it warm where the covers fell away, I know she loves me too.

And Cinderella started out as a feral cat that nobody wanted. Even when she came to me, she was an afterthought, an unadoptable who needed a quiet place to hide.

Now she runs this place.

Cinderella wants Creamcheese Brownie to have a home too.

bethofalltrades: (Default)
So I now have cats.

I signed up to foster cats through Gotham City Kitties. They're AMAZING and really kindhearted people. They brought two cats over to my house last night-- Taffy (soon to be renamed, because he's a boy) and Cinderella.
This is Taffy. )

When the Elizabeths (one a lawyer, one a fashion designer) who run GCK brought the kitties over, Taffy strode proudly out of the carrier, surveyed the room, ate some food, used the litterbox and settled in for a nap. Taffy is kind of aloof, enjoys napping in the sunshine, and is willing to be petted only when HE wants to be.

(The new names we're considering for Taffy are Milo and Barney (after NPH in How I Met Your Mother.) I'll see what sticks. I'm not sure if Cinderella will remain Cinderella or be abbreviated to Ella.)

Cinderella refused to come out of the carrier and then hid in Elizabeth the fashion designer's lap. Eventually she was transferred over to me and she sat with me and allowed me to pet her for about four hours.

Then she ran under the bed, where she remained until I had the bright idea to STICK MY HANDS UNDER THERE to touch her. Because she totally let me hold and pet her yesterday, right?

Needless to say, I have less blood in me than I had this morning and I have four new fang marks in my left arm.

Cinderella is hiding under the fold-up cot in the closet (actually a room about 10X12) as we speak. Which is why there are no photos of her.

So... kitties! I'm not sure how long they'll be staying. Taffy is adoptable, but Cinderella is not, at the moment. (Of course, that is okay with me because she's my favorite because she's skittish and a misfit and because she inflicted pain upon me.)


Today, I cleaned the fridge! Yay! It's been... okay, too long since it was cleaned. Our kitchen has been kind of a disaster area, so I suggested we all split up the chores and I took the fridge/freezer. It got a real deep clean and now I feel okay with actually putting food in there.

It's a step... toward me admitting that I will be cooking at home again soon. I've resisted going grocery shopping, thinking that at any moment I'll again be eating most of my dinners with the Princess. Well, today I bought milk and cleaned the fridge and it's all a start, I suppose.

It makes me very, very sad. Day five of no contact with her and I keep expecting that when the phone rings, it will be her. I'm waiting even more than before and I'm more sad than I was when we had a stupid pseudo-but-not-really relationship and hung out once a week. At least I had once a week to look forward to. I know that logically a clean break is best, but I'm still standing here saying, "But it's not really broken!"

I was really depressed yesterday and then the cats came and I felt much better. Cinderella is a living being I can heap my love upon. The poor cat doesn't even know what's coming. As if biting would make me go away. Ha! I've had worse! Bring it. I am going to smother you with love, you little furry beast.

All in all, the cats were a better option that BABY!, which is, of course, always the other option. Although there was a little boy in the grocery store, about 15 months old, who ran over to me, wrapped his arms around my leg and GRINNED. I was like, okay, where's the barcode on that one, because I'm taking him home.

... I didn't, of course. KT frowns on kidnapping.

I haven't showered today. I feel gross, yet I don't really want to shower either. Partially because I have six band-aids on my left arm and partially because it somehow seems appropriate that I'm greasy and sitting in the dark.

Jeez, I'm a ray of sunshine. I'm not depressed, I swear, I'm just sad.

But... kitties!!!




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