Ballsy Binx

On November 13, it was time for Binx's first official vet appointment and the scheduling of his neuter appointment.
We brought along Binx's stuffed puppy so that he'd knead the dog instead of the vet. He sat perfectly in our black cat carrier only mewing during the car ride. There were no tantrums and fits like what we see from Sparta in the carrier. They quickly brought us back, looking warily at the puppy dog in my hand. Is it for the lady or for the.... cat?!? I could hear their thoughts screaming. The vet technician, a tall male with pulled back brown hair, pulled Binx from the carrier as I set the puppy on the steel gray examination table.
Our big black cat weighs just under 12 pounds!

He loves to sleep on people

Then, another technician came into the room and proceeded to do the feline leukemia test. Thankfully, I wasn't able to see as the guy jabbed and jabbed poor Binx's inner leg unable to get any blood. The vet, a man with a light sandy handlebar mustache, walked in, assessed the situation, then slightly pushed the technician out of the way.
"You have to do it higher up to get any blood," said the vet.
My lips thinned. Had that idiot just been stabbing my cat that entire time because he didn't know what in the world he was doing? Welcome to the medical world of amateurs or old schoolers who refuse to budge from the original practices.
"Have you taken his temperature?" the vet asked.
No, they hadn't. Binx experienced a sensation like never before to reveal a perfect temperature.
Then, the vet came Binx a once over by looking into his eyes, mouth, and ears then patting him down. He pronounced Binx extremely healthy. The vet started feeling Binx's backside.
"Oh wow, he's neutered," said the vet.

Wait.... WHAT??

Inside or outside??

"But, my neutered cat at home doesn't look like that," I stammered, referring to the very noticeable "man parts" under Binx's tail.

"Well, we think he's about 3-years-old," the vet answered. "If he was neutered recently, say in the past few months, then he would still have that. Also, he has a very large head."

"Well," I said to Stuart, "there goes our easy fix on the aggression."

"Aggression?" said the vet.

"Yes, he's completely fine with us," I stated as the vet continued to press into Binx's pelvic region. "But, whenever he comes face-to-face with my other cat, he stalks him like prey or rushes him. He's extremely confrontational!"

"Well, that sounds like he has testosterone in his system," said the vet. "I can feel something small and round on the inside of his legs where testicles could be, but they could also be lymph nodes or fat depositions. I would say that if he's not neutered, then his testicles are up in these tubes that lead down to the scrotum. Or, they never dropped at all, and we would have to operate in his abdominal cavity like a female during a spay surgery."

"What are our options?" we asked.

"You could do nothing and wait for him to spray or go after a female. I don't recommend that," said the vet sternly. "We could take some blood and send it to a lab for testing. See what his testosterone levels are. But, I don't know how much that would cost off the top of my head. You're looking at paying for that and then possibly paying for neutering depending on what the tests show. Then, we can perform surgery here but because we don't know where the testicles are, we would have to do exploratory surgery, which puts you at $70." 

Stuart and I stared at him as he continued to pound Binx's belly with his hands. We were baffled. Confused. Bamboozled. Confounded. Astonished. That was the vaguest information ever given in the history of human and animal medicine.

"Well..." said Stuart.

"Huh," I said.
Another vet was called in to examine Binx as well.  She couldn't find anything either.
"Well, what do you think?" The vet chuckled. "Looking at him, I was expecting to feel some big testicles. But nothing!!"
Stuart and I could only glance at each other with large eyes.
"I guess we're going to have to wait and make a decision," I answered.
"Yep, I'd hate to put the guy through surgery and anesthesia for nothing. To make slits on the inside of his legs and check to see exactly what those hard round lumps are is simple. But, if we have to go into his abdominal cavity, that's invasive surgery. It's something to think about. In the meantime, I'll make some calls and find out what it would cost to do the testosterone tests."
"Thank you," we said and headed out of the office. My beautiful, perfectly healthy, somewhat less masculine Binx had been completely calm, quiet, and perfect through the whole 15-minute ordeal, even during the leukemia shot after all the manhandling. No ripping out the vet's throat. No gloves or towel needed. Not a single peep!
As soon as we got into Stuart's car, we burst into a fit of laughter. What were we going  to do now?? What came to be referred to as The Great Balls Debate on Facebook quickly came to a conclusion!

To be continued...

Lose One, Gain Another

Stuart and I were more afraid of telling our landlord about Binx than we were about the responsibility of keeping him. On the second night, Binx slept in Stuart's bed, kneading away at anything he could get his paws on. He also fell in love with Stuart's giant stuffed dog and mounted like a pro. ...Uh oh!
That night, I bought him a toy and a stuffed puppy dog from the toy section of Wal-Mart. He kneaded the dog to bits and still loves it today. Aggressively, he played with a "Flutter Ball," or a ball with fake feathers on the end. He was spastic, rolling and running and attacking!! It nearly dangerous for us to play with him as hooked his talon-like claws into the toy.

Quickly, a routine was established. Sparta would spend time in the living room with me while Stuart played with Binx in his bedroom. Then, Binx would wander around the house while Sparta stayed in my bedroom. Then, Sparta would get the house again while Binx played outside on his own.
At first, Stuart and I were extremely wary of letting Binx outside alone. First, we refused to do so until we purchased an identification tag and rabies vaccine. Then, we would follow him around at varying distances to let him grow accustomed to his new territory. However, while Binx wants nothing more than to be outside in the grass and the sunshine constantly, his fear of being abandoned or lost again overrides that desire, and he'll stick to our sides like glue. If I try to go inside or close the door, he'll come running from whichever corner of the yard. If I try to close the door when he's inside, he'll come running from whichever corner of the house to go back outside.

The last time I had an outdoor cat, he disappeared. Frisky was my love and joy. He was a Maine Coon mix with a fluffy tail and the sweetest face with a beautiful orange coat. He played, snuggled, licked my ear to wake me up, and was the perfect cat. He was also an indoor/outdoor cat. While we were at school, he played outside in the woods behind our house then came home when we did. One day, Father let him out at his usual time of 5:30 a.m. We returned from school. Hours went by, and no Frisky. We searched the woods, called the animal shelter, and asked the neighbors. Frisky was never seen again.
After this experience, everything in me screams never to let Binx outside without supervision. In fact, I typically pace the windows trying to follow his every movement when he is outside. However, it would be mean to force the outdoor-loving cat into the lifestyle a lazy house cat, and it would be nearly impossible for him to roam and be free as much with him and Sparta refusing to get along. So, outside he goes.

Binx

Soon after we found Binx, however, another stray showed up... this time a young black lab mix. He was boisterous and friendly. He also loved to chase Binx. Where he came from, we never found out, but it was clear to us that he needed to go. Our landlord, who despises dogs, also was fed up with him since he'd wander onto his property looking for treats and a petting. His first encounter with Binx included Stuart making a mad dash for the back door with Binx's talons locked deep into the skin of Stuart's back. He also ran around in the road, begging to be run over. Then, one morning he began howling from loneliness at 8 a.m. continuously. Nope, that was enough!
 That afternoon, Stuart and I loaded him in the back of my Honda and dropped him off at the shelter where he was named Bronco. We knew he'd get adopted: he was still a puppy and gorgeous. Also, he'd be warm and get daily food and clean water. Mission accomplished.
Then, on November 7, disaster struck. As I was playing with Binx outside, my cell phone started ringing. Unable to answer, it went to voice mail. It was my mother calling to tell me that it was time to say good bye to my childhood cat Piddy Paws. For two weeks, Piddy had been struggling to breathe, and the vet said there was nothing they could do for him. It was that day to make the decision every pet owner dreads.

Piddy Paws

15 minutes later, I checked my phone to read two text messages.
One read, "Piddy has taken a turn for the worse. Taking him two vet shortly and depending on what they say, I will decide what to do. Wanted you to know it could be today."
The other said, "Piddy's heart murmur has caused congestive heart failure like I emailed you. Nothing they could do and he was suffering. He is at peace now. I pick up his remains in couple of days as you requested."
As I stared out at Binx pouncing in the overgrown grass, I didn't know how to absorb the shock of the loss of Piddy Paws. What I wanted more than anything was to hold Sparta forever, but he soon wriggled out of my grasp. Devastated as I was, Piddy Paws' death was something I had prepared myself for. I had said my good byes earlier when I first learned that he wasn't doing well. I knew then that it was highly unlikely he would see another Christmas.
Binx will never take Piddy Paws' place. There's no replacing that big, fat, silly cat, but Binx certainly entered my life at the perfect time. And, thankfully our landlord said we could keep him. Thank goodness because I couldn't have lost a second cat in less than a week!

Rest in peace

Meet Binx

I'm sorry for not posting for so long. It's that time of the year where every teacher is demanding these ridiculous, outrageous, several-hours-in-the-making projects. So, I'm over my head in craziness. So much that I haven't had a chance to write about the new addition to our family.

As many people know, Stuart and I have been obsessed with getting a dog. It's all we want in this life! We have our home. We have our cat. We have our hamster. We have each other. Now, we need a dog!! We want German Shepherds, preferably younger than a year so that we can train them and bring them up how we want.
God laughed at this plan. He laughed oh so very hard as we continually live in places where our landlords have one major rule: NO DOGS!! Stuart and I halfheartedly accepted that fact. Instead, we go to the animal shelter and walk those dogs, pretending that they are ours. Or, we spend time reading books or watching documentaries about raising and training dogs, planning on one day being PUPPY SUPER PARENTS!!! Watch us pick out a Marley and all hell breaks loose.
God laughed at us again on the evening of November 3. It was cool night, and we had the windows open to let in that fresh mountain air. As usual, Sparta was glued to the windowsill in his efforts to live outside vicariously by smelling and watching all he could through the screen. Then, I noticed Sparta had a very familiar body position and was making familiar noises. They weren't his "I see a bird or a bunny" noises. It was his "THERE IS A FREAKING CAT IN MY YARD!!! GET OUT OF MY YARD!!! I WILL KICK YOUR BUTT!" noise.
Sure enough, a completely black adult cat stood frozen in the dim glow of the outdoor light that flooded over the stepping stone pathway and front steps. When I saw him, my "save every animal in the world" gear kicked in, and I went to the door expecting him to dash away into the night. However, I was surprised to see the cat come straight up to the screen door and start meowing even though there was a hissing, spitting, angry feline in the window only a few feet away.

"Stuart, I bet he's hungry!" I said and immediately poured a Tupperware bowl of Blue Buffalo cat food. Again, I expected the cat to flee when I opened the screen door, but instead he pounced on the food, eating so heavily that he pushed the bowl off the side of the steps. Quickly, I threw on a coat and went outside to right the bowl. He ate and ate and ate!
"Baby, I think he's lost!" I said sadly, petting his thick black fur. He was so playful and sweet that I thought he couldn't be older than 2. But, man, was he huge!! He was just your perfect big, meaty black cat like straight out of a storybook about witches. All he wanted to do was rub himself against us and crawl over our laps.
It wasn't long before the worsening cold drove Stuart and I to make a decision about what we should do with the cat. It was Saturday night. The animal shelter was closed on Sunday. Several questions and scenarios raced through our heads. What if he has fleas? What if he starts spraying because he smells Sparta? What if Sparta gets at him? What if Sparta starts spraying? What if the black cat doesn't know how to use the litter box? What will our landlord say? My brain was spinning!
"It's so cold outside," Stuart said.
His heart had already melted at the cat that looked just like his childhood cat Snickers back in Raleigh. I, too, couldn't make a decision worrying about Sparta and how the cat would fare in the cold weather outside. Thinking about the essay I had just written about my devotion to Sparta, I told Stuart to put the cat out. 

He hates the harness.

Once the cat was back outside, we listened to him whine piteously so much that my heart couldn't take it, so he's stayed the night in the bathroom. Sparta was at the ultimate level of anger. He nearly took my face off!
Poor Stuart... he had to listen to the kitty whine, scratch, and cry all night long. All the cat wanted was a warm bed to sleep in. Instead, he slept in the airless, tiny bathroom with a shoe-box-turned-litter-box taking up most of the floor space. 
Stuart raced off to work early the next morning leaving me with Sparta and the new cat. It wasn't long before my reserves against bringing him into the house changed to a love for him.There are two notches in his left ear, and his left eye often "cries." He has a black nose and black whiskers. He is the perfect-looking Binx from Disney's Hocus Pocus. He also has a very strange habit of constantly kneading. For the first five days, Binx constantly extended and retracted his claws. He even did it while standing still. Once, he fell asleep and his feet kept kneading!
That morning and afternoon, I put flyers up about a found cat in our neighbors' mailboxes, posted a status on The Sylva Herald and The Western Carolinian Facebook, and the night before Stuart had called our neighbors through whitepages.com. Nothing!!! No one had lost a black cat. No one even owned a cat! We were stumped.
By the time Monday rolled around, I had become attached. Sunday night, I had a speech all ready for when Stuart came home about how I couldn't stand to take him to the shelter. Black dogs and cats are usually the first ones to be put down after aggressive animals. People just don't like the ordinary normalness of a black animal. They are overlooked, especially black cats because there are so many of them. I knew that if we took him to the shelter that I would have to wait weeks before returning to make extra sure I didn't see him in a cage. I proposed to Stuart that we bring into our family Binx as our new outdoor cat!!
And, God bless him, he said yes!!

The Must List, November 10

1. The Cherokee Animal Care Clinic
Cats and dogs run rampant. Children play in the corner of toys or inspect the newly  arriving animals. The building itself is large, spacious, and open. There's no scary smell of vet. The employees are friendly, relaxed, and professional. We took our new cat here to get his rabies vaccination. They took him back and handed him over in less than five minutes. They even gave us his rabies tag --- no tag fee, no mailing it in!! Gaston County, you make things too complicated!! We're staying here, thank you! What a wonderful vet clinic. We were very pleased. Oh, and... $8 shot!! Heck yeah!!

2. Helium balloons
What fun! My puppy birthday balloon is over two weeks old, and it's still floating against the ceiling. The other two, sadly, have passed on! But, that's when the fun part begins. That's when you get to make a small incision in the side of the balloon and suck out all the helium and talk in a squeaky voice. I find myself extremely hilarious when I talk like that.

Starting to die...!

3. Paint your own dishes
I took another trip to Claymates, our local paint-your-own-pottery, last month and decided to spice up my dinner dishes. I painted a plate to look like you're eating your spaghetti or steak or pizza out of a pond with lily pads. I think everyone should paint their own dishes. It's creative and original. If I have kids, I think I'll take them to a paint-your-own-pottery place and have them paint their own dishes. They'll be masterpieces!

My finished plate

4. The Prince of Egypt DVD
I loved this movie as a child, and now, it's just as good but for all different reasons. First of all, Ralph Fiennes as Ramses is just brilliant! He has the perfect voice for animated films. Secondly, no matter what you believe about the story of Moses or if it even happened this is still an amazing film about faith and hope. The songs are beautiful and moving. The animation was unheard of at the time. Look carefully at the plague scene and appreciate the animated magic!

Pharaoh's wife finds Moses

5. Creative clocks
I'm very obsessed with decorating. I wish I had a bigger house just so I can keep decorating. As for this place, I've kind of run out of wall space. However, when I picking out what I needed for my Cullowhee trailer, I realized... "My gosh, I've never had a wall clock! To the Clock Section!!!" AWAY! And there, I found my adorable chef clock. He's perfect with his fork and knife hands, "Good Food Served Here!" phrase on his belly, and the wire outline of the man himself. Aside from being cute and fitting in the kitchen, Stuart gets a kick out of him, too! Yes, clocks are meant to be practical objects of telling time. That doesn't mean you can't have a little fun with it!

6. Leftover Halloween candy
You know you're still eating it... you even bought more now that it is on sale, didn't you? Yeah, admit it!!

Kodak Moment: Piddy Paws

Yesterday, I lost my best friend. After over ten years, my cat Piddy Paws' faulty heart couldn't handle life anymore, and he had to be put down. It hasn't quite hit me yet that I've lost him, probably because I wasn't there yesterday. I was three hours away in Cullowhee ironically heading out the door to inoculate our new addition to the family (but more on him later).
I'm sorry I couldn't have been there for Piddy's last moments. I hope that somehow he remembered me and all the fun that we had together growing up. We were quite a pair: an awkward skinny girl and big, fat cat. He was my best friend and confidant even when he drove me bonkers. I loved everything about him from the white lightning bolt between eyes to his extra pounds.
I feel like I said good bye to him a long time ago when I left for college with Sparta. Sadly, I could never take Piddy Paws after his refusal to use the litter box kicked up a few years ago. I never got to share another Trix yogurt cup with him or squirt water into his mouth from the squirt bottle that was supposed to be used for discipline. After a year, he didn't even run to greet me anymore and treated me like a stranger. I just hope he somehow remembered before. I always will.

Piddy Paws loved sleeping in weird places

His favorite thing in the world was being outside.

My favorite picture

Playing with Sparta

He was a fat, fat, hungry cat!

And totally cool!