Day 12 - Still Puke Free!

Day 12 and still puke free! Almost two weeks of only canned cat food and we're excited to report a total absence of barf, puke, upchuck, yakk, boot and gark.

Cat dandruff appears to be subsiding while perky personality traits appear to be emerging.

Ninja, aka El Gato Retardo, is playing like a kitten again, chasing his tiny tinsel balls all over the house. Not his balls, he's fixed. You know what I mean.

He's much more active during the day, too, visiting me often while I work, which sounds sweet but he's actually bugging the crap outta me.

He stands up on his hind legs and puts his front paws on the side of my chair, digging in a claw or two then plucking them back out. First one side then the other. He seems really proud of this trick.

Today it looked like Neo wasn't quite as bulbous. He's like a bowling ball on legs. I thought he might be losing some pudge, so I weighed him. If he has lost any weight, it isn't enough to register on the bathroom scale.

I weighed both the boys and they appear to be the same weight. Could it be that they've just lost the water bloat that comes with eating carbs? I wonder...

For lunch today I had a leftover pork chop. Before I could sit down at the table I had a captive audience. Even the little one, who usually has no interest in human food. They all enjoyed a wee piggy snack.

They seem to be getting enough of their own food - there's food left in the bowls for quite a while after breakfast and dinner - they take their time working through it. But now they seem much more in tune with All Things Meat. They're more like little wild animals and not as much like living couch cushions.

Yesterday morning after breakfast I packaged up the meat I'd bought at Costco to store in the freezer. Ninja came out of a deep slumber to investigate. He's never done that before.

I'm excited to see them become more active and seemingly happy, but I wonder if at some point they'll get super primal and start gnawing on our legs.

Slippery Slope

Today at Costco I realized I'm in dangerous territory. Not Costco, though THAT MANY Kit Kats is plenty dangerous, as are those ginormous bags of Kettle Chips.

No, I realized, while considering whether or not I should buy a metric ton of Kashi, discussing this with myself, out loud, that I love talking to myself. More than with other people.

To be fair, I rarely talk to other people anymore. I talk to myself way more than I do other people. And I'm OK with that. I like it. I am an excellent conversationalist. I know just what to say and when to say it - even HOW to say it. I'm such a good listener, too. I really HEAR me.

Even more dangerous, I don't care if people overhear my me-me conversations. Join us! We're having a stimulating conversation about bags of flash-frozen chicken! And pork. That is a LOT of pork, but that's good pork. And we can freeze it. Do they have cupcakes? I really want a cupcake - not a giant fat sponge muffin and definitely not 12 giant fat sponges. Nope, no cupcakes. Should we go? Are we done? I think so. Let's go.

New Cat Diet - Day 7

Captain's Cat Food Log, Day 7:

The Natives are restless... but in a more-active-than-usual, not-as-sloth-like way. We've switched them to an all-canned food diet - no more kibble.

So far, no complaints, though they still don't speak English, so how would we know?

We do know there's been no more cat puke since making the switch and we've also noticed they're not constantly visiting the water dish like they just got off a long bus ride from Arkansas.

As of last night, one native in particular was up at all hours playing Raccoon. This could be an unfortunate side-effect (for us) of having more energy and being more cat-like than sloth-like. On the plus side, Raccoon Boy needs to burn off some pudge, so, good for him, bad for my beauty sleep.

Why put everyone through this experiment? I was tired of cleaning up cat puke (not hairballs, just puke) and worried about why one of our cats kept doing it, no matter how I fed him or the quality of the food, which is always the best I can find.

After reading countless cat food labels I kept wondering, would a cat naturally hunt down barley or boil up a pot of rice? I would love to see my cats trying to cook rice.

I did some digging and found information about cats developing diabetes or pre-diabetes, possibly caused by the excess carbohydrates in typical dry food formulas. I wondered if Ninja's puking and repeated trips to the water bowl could be signs of serious trouble. He was getting up repeatedly throughout the day to get a drink.

Neo, the Bowling Ball, aka Raccoon Boy, needs to lose a few pounds but reduced-calorie kibble has more carbs, less protein, and has never worked to help him slim down.

I'd always thought kibble would help keep their teeth healthy, but after watching them inhale the bits and rarely chew them, that theory wasn't holding up. Every time Ninja puked up his kibble it was mostly un-chewed bits that could go right back into the bag.

So, I started reading Do Cats Hear With Their Feet by Jake Page. He includes some of the same info I'd found online (and much more - great book). Cats are designed to eat meat, not carbs. Also, very important - they need to get their hydration from their food, not the water dish.

His book mentions a website, catinfo.org, full of nutrition and feeding info for cats, written by a veterinarian. Another book he recommends for good nutrition info is Your Cat: Simple New Secrets to a Longer, Stronger Life.

Since we made the switch, Ninja hasn't gotten sick and isn't constantly visiting the water cooler - very encouraging signs. Litter box output all looks normal - no change in the size of clumps, no diarrhea. They still sleep a lot, but now they're up & playing in the early afternoon - not out cold from breakfast until dinner time. I'm also hoping to see the dandruff clear up, something the boy cats have had for years.

Some folks worry that too much protein is hard on their kidneys, but what I'm reading cites the lack of hydration as the main problem leading to kidney stones or kidney failure. If they're designed to eat meat and only meat, I suspect their kidneys are designed to manage that properly.

I'm not ready to start grinding up tubs of raw chicken just yet, so I'm using the canned food I've fed them for years - Wellness. It's pretty good quality though still has some ash in it, which I really don't like.

Catinfo.org mentions a couple of options - Feline's Pride and Nature's Variety - they're expensive. Wellness has come out with a new canned formula - Core - that has more protein & less starch.

Overall, all signs point to this working out well, unless they're all up and playing throughout the night, then they might be getting canned-food dinners with valium dust sprinkled on top.

Coast Crapital Senseless & Lame

I've never hated a bank as much as I hate this piece of shit Canadian "bank." The people are nice enough, but they cannot make a working website to save their hockey-lovin lives.

Sure, maybe I just need to eat lunch and stop yelling PIECE OF SHIT! at my laptop screen - take a moment to calm down, but where's the fun in that!? PIECE OF SHIT! PIECE OF SHIT! PIECE OF SHIT!!!

I try to log in, it appears as if I'm logging in, then the screen refreshes and evidently I have NOT logged in. I'm trying to pay a bill. I would like to pay the bill. But I CANNOT pay the goddamn bill because this PIECE OF SHIT website will not allow me to pay the bill.

This is the banking website that has their online "representative" fucking around at her desk with a man in a gorilla suit behind her. It should be no surprise that their website doesn't work. It's a PIECE OF SHIT.

Yes, my cookies are enabled. Yes, I'm using the highest level of encryption and all that garbage. Other banking sites work fine. It's just THIS ONE that was built by Canadian geese. I would not recommend using Canadian geese to build your website.

Also, why in the world would I want to join this bank on Facebook? Why in the HELL would I follow them on Twitter? Are you fucking KIDDING me? You're a BANK!

How about you try being a BANK instead of fucking around on Facebook and Twitter? Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe you should focus on BEING A BANK? A BANK WITH A WORKING WEBSITE? Take a minute and think it over.

Meanwhile, I'll be using ANOTHER BANK for BANKING business. Take your time, send some tweets, fill out the 50 Things About Coast Crapital. Here, I'll get you started:

1. Were you named after anyone?
Not someone, but some*thing* - crap, as in the slang term for feces. Because we're supposedly near the "coast," we got super clever and called ourselves Coast Crapital. We're called a savings & loan, but we don't want our customers to be able to access their money too easily. We've taken care of that by having just one branch every 400km and we built a website that looks like a website but it's really just a series of linked JPGs.

2. When was the last time you cried?
Is that a human behavior?

3. Do you like your handwriting?
I like everything I do, even if it infuriates our customers and makes our bank look incredibly stupid and inept. Hells yes.

4. What is your favorite lunch meat?
Bologna.

5. If you weren't a bank would you be friends with you?
Not a bank - that's funny. LMAO.

If I could get my hands around your asinine online rep's throat, I'd squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until my money popped out of her eyes and into my lap where I could use it to pay that damn bill. I hate you so much right now.

Update: I sent them an email telling them about the problem and this is the response I received:

Thank you for your Account Product Support inquiry.

This is a technical issue that can likely be fixed. Please call our technical support at 1.877.33.7736.

Even their support system is manned by geese. Awesome.


Update #2: I replied to let them know they'd left out a digit in their tech support number and how much that bolstered my confidence. I also told them I wouldn't be using their online services anymore. Their reply:

Our website does work and if you are having technical problems with it the I would suggest phoning our technical support line. I do apologize about leaving the digit out last time. [can you hear the whiny "it *does* work!"? - hilarious.]

I told them thanks but no thanks. Isn't it neat when a company argues with you about their broken crap? I recommended their developers do a little testing to see what they could find without me spending any more of my time on the problem.

Someone else replied again - it's been a different person every time - to politely ask me to contact their tech support folks. Third time's a charm - no more argument in that message. Someone over there took the Customer Service Basics seminar. I won't respond this time - I've had enough fun for today.

No Clock for Old Women

Last night we watched the second-to-last Battlestar CanaGalactica/Galactacouver, zooming right through it on DVR by skipping all the commercials.

When it was over, David saw that No Country For Old Men was about to start on a movie channel. Without taking a break, we went from cold & bleak outer space to hot & dusty west Texas. I hadn't seen the movie and was sucked right in. I don't remember the last time I was so captivated by a movie.

When it ended, I glanced at the clock on the cable box. It read 12:10. You might be thinking, So??? Well, let me tell you. Last I remembered, it was about 8 o'clock and we'd just finished eating. I thought it might be about 9:30, maybe 10, but after midnight!? How did that happen?

I was robbed of two whole hours of my night! By the Cohen brothers! By a guy with a spectacular salad bowl Prince Valiant haircut and a shotgun with a silencer! Have you seen that gun!? It's fugging amazing!

Maybe not "robbed"... Not like the movies Tank Girl and Domino - outright time muggers that make you want to bludgeon their makers for having ever wasted all that film, or flog yourself for having wasted precious time watching such garbage.

It was jarring, is all, to go from feeling like it was still kinda early to BLAM - late. My internal clock was totally off and I was pissed. I need that clock to be right, since I hardly ever wear a watch anymore.

Still thinking about that movie today. "You can't stop what's comin'." "Believing it's all about you is just vanity." And now I want to talk just like Carla Jean and wear my cowboy boots everywhere. Evrawayer.

Sorry God

Hi God, you imaginary prankster, you. Just wanted to say sorry to you and your witnesses of Jehova (that's Jumpin Jehosaphat's cousin, right?).

I'm sure your witnesses are fine fellows, but I had to take care of important business in the bathroom. As my Nana used to say, "I had to see a man about a dog."

Imagine my surprise when on my way to the bathroom the doorbell rang not once, but TWICE. TWICE means someone very important is at the door, like the UPS man or a bedraggled Canada Postman with a package requiring signature - something I really want and can't wait to open.

Imagine my disappointment when I opened the door to your spokespeople who wanted to hand me cheerful-looking pamphlets sporting bright sunshiney flowers. You're going to have to do better than bright sunshiney flowers.

I'm looking for boxes of cookies, coffee, doughnuts, kittens, shoes, or even Avon products. Flowers aren't gonna cut it.

Hand me a box of kittens or doughnuts and I'll listen to your folks prattle on about anything as long as that box stays full. If a kitten or doughnut jumps out, you'd better have another one to take its place.

With a curt but cheerful "No thank you! Good day!" I shut and locked the door and made tracks to the loo. When I came out, a forlorn El Gato Retardo was sitting by the front door. I'd just shooed away his people.

Just like JWs, Ninja believes Armageddon is near - every morning and afternoon just before feeding time. He also will not celebrate his birthday. Because he is a big dumb cat and does not know his birthday.

Anyway, sorry for shutting down your peeps and carrying on with my day. Got lots to do - building a giant cross in the back yard, snorting coke, aborting fetuses and making all the family decisions. As you can see, I don't have time for chatting on the porch. Give my love to Jesus.

Tell It, Oprah!

I usually couldn't give a rat's ass what Oprah says or thinks about anything. I know, how un-American of me... I also won't read any book that makes her list. But I digress...

It was nice to see a snippet in the news about Oprah wanting to tell Rihanna that if he hits you once, he'll do it again. And again. And again. It's true, sister. I hope Oprah can reach her.

I don't like to talk about it, but I was once in one of those relationships. Thankfully I was never punched, choked or bitten, but he was working toward that.

It was emotional, verbal and psychological abuse that began slowly and over time escalated into shoving, pushing, physical threats, throwing things at me and breaking my belongings - lots of shit broken.

In the beginning it can be very subtle - giant red flags I now see with hindsight. At the time, you may not fully recognize it or don't want to believe it's happening. There's also the lame thought that you can change him. Needless to say, you can't. No one can, though I'm a big believer in traction. Six months in traction might do a lot to help someone reevaluate his life. If only.

That's another job I would enjoy. A oil-soaked Louisville slugger and a list of names. Available to start now. Anyway...

Over time, they can get inside your head well enough so that you lose the strength to leave. Your confidence and self-esteem erodes as the shame builds. You want to get out or cry for help, but the fear and shame is paralyzing. If you get caught talking to anyone about it, that will mean more pain. It also doesn't help if they spend all your money, leaving you financially unable to get out.

The situation is very sad, but one silver lining might be that people might better understand how common it is. Being rich or famous doesn't make anyone immune to domestic violence. More important, abuse isn't always just physical. If someone is trying to control another person in any way, it's wrong. No debate. What might seem harmless now won't be in the future.

Looking back, it's hard to say what might have helped me. I had to find my own way out when I could make it happen. If I had a ton of money and rich friends, I have to think I'd have been able to leave much sooner. At the same time, if I wasn't strong enough to do it, it may not have mattered. (Thankfully I had just enough money and a wonderful friend who was a lifesaver.)

Until Rihanna realizes on her own that he is nothing more than a poisonous parasite, there's not much anyone can do to help. At least she has the financial resources to get out whenever she's ready. I hope she gets there soon.

If anyone out there is wondering if you're in a healthy relationship, get help. Talk to your friends, read corny self-help books, go online, but most important, trust your gut. If that little voice is telling you something doesn't feel right, it isn't. Don't ignore it. You're not alone and many other women have been there.

There's lots of help out there (here?). For example:

• DA signs and symptoms
• Signs of Domestic Violence
  
• DV - Recognize the Patterns
  
• National DV Hotline
• Women's Aid UK
• Women's Shelter info & links on Wiki
• La Casa de las Madres SF

And if you like-a de Oprah, tune in on Thursday - the whole show will be about domestic violence.

Analyze This

Lots of weird dreams lately. Nothing I can remember too clearly, until this morning.

I distinctly remember watching my dream like it was a movie - a really bad B horror flick.

It's late at night on an empty, secluded beach, somewhere in Hawaii maybe. A young adult couple frolics down the beach, running, the man chasing the woman. The woman is topless and has a beautiful rack - really beautiful.

She and her boyfriend run down the beach laughing, having a great time. Then they go into what looks like an old government office building right on the beach, like an old DMV office - faded beige metal siding with old aluminum-framed windows. Not much furniture inside other than a couple of old metal desks left in the middle of the large, empty room. It's been empty for a very long time.

They run into the building and off to the right - he's still chasing her and she's laughing - great fun - good times. At this point I join the dream. Something's about to happen but I'm not sure what. I'm crouched in the entry foyer, below the inside windows. The couple can't see me and I can't warn them about what's inside, behind the wall on the left.

There's a light outside that shines into the windows, bright moonlight, maybe - I can see everything clearly. It's quiet now - I can't hear the young couple but they're oblivious. I turn to look at the thing I knew was coming - I can't see it - it's invisible - but the light shows me a shadow of its skeleton on the inside wall.

It's a T-Rex, silently creeping around the wall toward the happy young couple. Before they know what's upon them, it begins to tear them apart, blood splattering everywhere. There is still no sound, just sprays of blood all over the walls. The end.

I woke up and didn't feel at all frightened or disturbed. Just another day. It was time to feed the cats.

A Different Kind of Job

These are tough times for finding good jobs. It's tempting to look for a safe option, like tech writer or online producer, but what a great time to find your calling and do something you've always dreamed about, or something that needs to be done that no one else is doing.

I think I've found that job. Killing everyone and anyone who ever abuses or neglects an animal. No warnings, no trial, no jury - just me, a nice gun and a list of names.

Who pays for this service? Good question. The ASPCA? The government? Let's not worry about that for now. Regardless of where the money comes from, this is a job that pays for itself in a few ways.

Firstly, the sense of satisfaction we could all feel knowing these people and their genes are off the planet. Whew! Wouldn't that feel great?

Secondly, these people area huge waste of resources. If they can't properly look after an animal, there's no way they can be trusted to look after children or any other human, and they obviously have no respect for the planet, so why keep them around?

If they can't take care of an animal, they can't possibly be productive members of any community. They're useless morons, plain & simple. Some might say, "Oh, they didn't know that XYZ might be harmful..." Bullshit. Ignorant? Misinformed? Lazy? No excuse - you're dead.

Thirdly, just the threat alone of knowing you'll be shot and exterminated if you're ever caught doing anything untoward to an animal seems like it would be an effective deterrent and possibly prevent these things from happening in the first place.

Think of the money saved by having these idiots off the planet. You know they call in sick to work to stay home and watch Springer, so if they're working for you, you're getting shanked, and that's if they even have a job. They're probably living off the dole - your tax dollars at work. Why not put those tax dollars to work eradicating these pests?

I'm available to start now.

New Thing for February

...um... Medina's Coffee & Waffles is all I got. But new restaurants are easy. Especially restaurants serving coffee & waffles. I could eat that in my sleep. Sometimes I do.

There was one other thing - I tried walking two unruly great danes. I wanted to enjoy it, but it turned out to be a pain in the ass. Literally.

The younger dog, still sporting his danglies, needs a lot of work. When another dog ran up behind us on the trail, he flipped out and charged toward the dog, slamming me backwards down onto the trail. Like a dumbass, I tried to keep hold of him.

The other dane, a very sweet girl, took the biggest crap I've ever seen from a dog. Being a cold day, it was actually steaming. A giant, steaming crap just like you might see in a Ren & Stimpy cartoon. It was amazing. Trying to pick that thing up in a plastic bag without barfing was a real challenge. I was tempted to leave it on the trail, but it was so huge it would have spooked a horse.

I don't think I'll be walking them again. I mean, I could, and over time I know it would get better, but - call me chicken - I don't want to get caught up in some nasty situation should Mr. Danglies charge a dog and create a problem. But I said Yes and gave it the old college try.

BTW, who in his right mind doesn't spay/neuter a dog? Redonkulous.

Dronabinolidated Water

We figured it out - why we feel like we could sleep all day and put away enough carbs to fell a moose - Canada puts something in the water. They've gotta be pumping THC into the water supply. It's the only thing that makes sense.

When I first got here I had all sorts of projects I wanted to work on, energy to burn and wasn't eating my body weight in starch every day. Now? Now, I could build a mashed potato igloo, crawl inside and sleep until June, getting up only after I've eaten the entire thing to build another one. Though I doubt I'd actually get up or "build" anything, because that would require effort.

No wonder everyone is so mellow, the driving so terrible and there are fast food joints everywhere. Get it? See what I did there? Joints? I slay myself. Time for a nap.