What a Christmas Tree means to me.

When I was very little, I waited while my older brothers and sisters went into the woods to get a Christmas Tree.  They would drag it home on the back of a toboggan, set it into the stand, tie it to the wall to keep it from tipping over, and proceed to decorate it with the heavy lights that had to be clamped to the branches, the ornaments that were fragile and delicate, if one fell and broke the guilt was intense, the fear for bare feet even more intense.  Then me and my little brother would be allowed to add our efforts by feeding the garland and then at last I would be given 1/2 a package of icicles to place on the tree.

That's me sitting on Dads knee (I have been chastised for posting pics without permission in the past)

Later the siblings grew up and moved away, the Mom and the Dad went separate ways, and it was up to me and the one who came after me to trek into he woods to chop down a tree, drag it home, and decorate it.  Fortunately by then the quality of tree stands had improved and we did not have to tie the tree to the wall with an invisible string.  We came to appreciate the efforts of our predecessors.  Finding the perfect tree in a "real" woods is not easy.  We would arrive home wet and cold with a tree that we felt was unworthy.  We would apply lightweight lights (no clamps required), ancient ornaments, shiny tinsel garland and icicles and decide that it was not such a bad tree after all.

Then came the time for me to leave the nest, and escape extreme rural PEI....for....TORONTO.  My first few years were spent living in places that I now refer to as dungeons, there was no room for a tree.  But after a few years I started becoming a grown up, I had an above ground apartment (with a roommate) and a credit card...with my very first credit card, one of my very first purchases was Ornaments for our Christmas tree. 

A new tradition had been established...finding the cheapest tree at the closest tree lot and dragging it back to the apartment whether that apartment involved roommates or was a independent.

Then a new twist got added to my tradition when my nephew started coming to help me decorate the tree with me...he was more interested in watching "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" and figuring out what "paddicakes" meant.  It seemed around the time that his younger brother was getting old enough to join our tree decorating tradition that the bottom fell out of his parents relationship and "poof" nephews were whisked off to Quebec, far beyond the reached of tree decorating.

To assuage my loneliness I began inviting friends and family to help decorate the tree.  And to change up the tradition of going to a tree lot was discarded when I purchased an artificial tree.  Sooty especially loved the artificial tree.  This is a picture of Sooty 3 months after her gotcha day exploring the Christmas Tree

Every year she would climb in that artificial tree.  Cleo on the other hand was more interested in helping to decorate.  Whether it was the artificial tree or when we moved to our house and began again putting up a real tree, it was the decorations that mattered most.

She especially loved the Christmas Tree pearls

Over the years memories have been built one on top of another, sharing a batch or two of eggnog. Digging through the CD collection for the dusty Christmas ones.  Bearing the off tune singing of my brother.  All while decorating the Christmas Tree.

Some appreciated the Nogg, some the music collection, others the placement of particular ornaments.

It is imperative that the clear ornaments be placed near a light or they are practically invisible.

A woman cannot help but be flattered when a friends insists that this decoration needs to be added to her tree.

Every year I try to add some new special touch.
But for Bunnies what is under the tree has always been more important than the tree itself.

It is just about two years ago that Lily and Stu began their love story under the Christmas tree

Last Christmas season, for some reason, I did not take many pictures.  I am very thankful that I took this one of Cleo enjoying her last Christmas tree.

My Christmas tree has evolved into a melancholy thing filled with memories of special times spent with special friends and family....its a little bit magical.

Every year I will have a Christmas Tree....I will share with Sooty and Stu....even if Stu wont pose.

Sootys Surgery and Post Op

Yesterday morning I got up early, brushed my teeth, got dressed like any other day. Then the weirdness started I picked up the pet carrier and attempt to have Sooty go inside.  I ended up chasing her around the kitchen, cornering her, grabbing her behind the neck and forcing her into the carrier.  Then I put her in the car, brought her to the scariest place in the world (for her), and left her there, while I sauntered off to work.

For some reason I was not feeling like the best kitty mom in the world.  I was feeling downright sucky.  I wished that she would understand that the world that we live in has no bigger fear than the fear of lumps. Her lump had to be removed. I needed to know if it was the dreaded C word....and I hoped that if it was the dreaded C word that having the lump removed would removed the threat.

I called the vets office at about 11:30 to ask them to do good nail trim on Sooty while they had the chance....I was told that her surgery had just begun that they would make sure that the nail trim was done, if it had not already been done.

About an hour later Sootys surgeon called to give me an update....the lump was not cancer. There would be no biopsy required.  It seems that Sooty has a hernia.  Normally hernia is nothing to be concerned about....unless it grows.   This one was growing.  Could have cause some intestinal issues if it had not been fixed. Needless to say, it is now fixed.

That news was better than any outcome that I had imagined. 

By the time she was ready to come home, I had finished my day at work, I rushed off to rescue her.  I was a little bit perturbed to discover that the price of her ransom was more than I had been expecting due to the fact the the surgery had required 30 minutes of surgery time instead of the expected 10....therefore an extra $250.00.  (Just between you and me Sooty has already received her Christmas present).

Once home and freed of the carrier Sooty wobbled around the house.  Having been told that she had not eaten at the vets I expected her to be starving (she had to begin fasting the night before).  She had very little interest in the canned food and none at all in her usual kibble...the reaction to kibble was nothing new but can food is a treat.  She took a few bites and walked away.  I'm not sure if she was restless or if she was in pain (the pain meds were not supposed to wear off till this morning), but she would not be still.  She gingerly moved from position to position and from room to room.  I suppose having me following her around like a demented stalker didn't to allot to make her feel at ease.  At times she seemed to appreciate the attention, and at other times she seemed to want to be left alone.  She would gently push her head against my hand but not her usual banging her head against my hand.  It seemed like she wanted to purr but nothing was coming out. 

She was weaker and wobbly.  Not what I had been expecting but I reminded myself she had just had surgery, and kept an eye on her throughout the night.  This morning I crushed up one of her pain pills and mixed it into a teaspoon of food...I found her hiding under a chair.  Again she was responded to being petted but where a usual purr would come now there was nothing.  She was spitting up bile and no interest in the food I offered...by this time I knew her pain meds were wearing off so I became mean mommy again and forces the spoonful of food into her.

Vets office called to check up on her and confirmed what I was suspecting, that the tube that had been put down her throat during surgery was often more irritation to cats than dogs and that could be the reason that she is not interested  in eating.  Her incision looks fine, her wobblyness has worn off.  I am still trying to keep her from jumping up on the bed.  I would be happier if she was wanting to snuggle and purr, but I'm sure she is progressing normally.

Day or two from now I hope this will all be history

Sooty has Surgery Scheduled for Tomorrow

The last blog entry that I made that was about Sooty was in early September,  then on September 29th she had another gotcha day....she is now 12 years my kitty cat.

Last time that I wrote about Sooty it was to tell of her vet visit to investigate "The Lump".   When the vet sent me home with the advice to "wait and see if it gets bigger", I was euphoric.  My fears of having by beloved kitty torn from my arm to face a barrage of tests or worse were belayed by the "wait and see".  I convinced myself that if the lump were something to be concerned about the vet would never say "wait and see"

So I took my fluff muffin home with visions of happily ever after in my head.  The problem is that while I waited I came to see that the lump has gotten bigger.  Last week I had to shove her back into the carrier and take her back to the vet....again she does all that she can to have the floor open and swallow her whole.  Again this reaction, while nowhere near her normal behaviour, proves useful when it comes to completing the examination.  The vet confirms what I already know....the lump has gotten bigger.  She still has no idea what it is, the options are to try and get a sample by syringe (hit or miss), or do a small incision to get a sample, or do surgery to remove the lump and send it for a biopsy. 

I figure that if the lump is nothing a syringe or a incision will be the end of the story but if it is something she is going to end up having to have surgery.  Rather than have the process drawn out I opt to get the lump removed.  I like to think that my philosophy is to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. Hoping and praying and wishing and praying some more.

Most of my prayers are just for her to get through tomorrows surgery and post op without any complications and then I remember to pray that the bbiopsy comes back clear.

Sooty had no Idea why I am chasing her around the house to pet her and brush her and smother her with kisses.

Sooty is as healthy as a cat her age can be.  Her has dandruff, I am convinced that this is because she steals the Meow Mix from the outdoor cats instead of eating her Science Diet.  There is no reason to believe that she will not pull out of the surgery and get on with she existence of demanding to be fed and then refusing to eat, watching over the backyard and freaking out when White Kitty shows up, ignoring Stu at all times except when he is getting snuggles, and breathing her tuna breath into my face when I try to watch TV.

But I worry.....thats what Mummys do.

Keeping in touch through Facebook

In social media venues I use Twitter and Facebook.  My Twitter account BunnyMummy2 has introduced me mainly to a compact network of tweeters who have a mutual affection for animals (mostly rabbits) that I have come to know strictly through cyberspace.  Facebook is the opposite.  All of my facebook friends are people that I actually have known and interacted with in my life.  I love facebook as a medium to know what is going on in their lives,  creeping on their pics, status updates etc makes up for a gulf that time and distance have created.  Some of my "friends" are loved ones and others are friends who have filtered in and then out of my life over the years and have come back into my life through facebook.

The last time that I had actually seen Mich had to have been at her wedding.  That had to have been 11-12 years ago...before that we had mastered the art of drinking Margarita's together...well maybe we never actually mastered the art, but we had fun trying.  Mich was the sweet one, I was the funny one and Anna was the one who always managed to get us home safely.....

It was no surprise when my sweet friend met someone who wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.  And with the responsibilities of life as a wife and mother it never struck me as odd that we lost touch after she married. When I have thought of her over the years I always ended the train of thought on her wedding day.  A day that I truly believed was the happiest day of her life.

When I logged onto facebook earlier and seen that she had changed her status from "married" to "separated" my heart fell to my feet.

Thank You for your Sacrifice

The sun is shining and I am enjoying a really good cup of coffee, after a late start to the day.

Reflecting on all the little liberties that I am fortunate enough to enjoy. Thankful that I do not live in a part of the world where citizens are oppressed or uncared for and very VERY thankful to those who fought and continue to fight to preserve this way of life for me and all Canadians.

Rememberance Day

Nov 11, Remembrance Day, is a day that we take a moment out of our lives to pay respect to the soldiers who have faced combat to defend our citizens and values.  One moment, on the 11th day of the 11th month at the 11th hour. 


Many of us feel compelled to give more than a single moment out of the day and attend a Remembrance Day service.  I usually attend the service at either Old City Hall or the one at the East York Community Centre.  I like the former because of the big old Cenotaph seems to add dignity to the service, I like the one at the East York Community Centre because it includes local school children and members of the local Police, Firefighters, and service people.  All told the service and the time it takes to line up to put my poppy on the Cenotaph might take 30-45 minutes out of my life.


I will usually take a personal day on November 11th. Attending the service will be the most important thing I do that day (heck it might be the most important thing that I do all week, month, year), but it wont be the only thing that i do that day.  The day will usually include shopping of some type.  The William Ashley Warehouse Sale has began so I will likely end up going there. 


One place that I will not be going (although in all honesty I might have) will be to visit any Eddie Store.  Eddie  Bauer has decided that Remembrance Day is a day that I am supposed to remember to buy socks as opposed to Remembering the efforts of the armed forces.  I think it is disgusting that a day that is supposed to honor soldiers is being used to promote a sale

Give up Sunshine

This day is winding down. I am sitting here with laptop on my lap. Sooty is on the back of the sofa front paws on my shoulder purring up a storm directly into my right ear. She smells 1/2 like oatmeal dry bath spray and 1/2 like cod liver oil....more of it got on her than in her. The smell will dissipate as she continues to bath herself. It is worth the slight fish smell to see her coat look so healthy and shiny. Nice way to end a day.


When this day began it was like most days begin, with me not wanting to get out of bed. The alarm going off. Then again, then again, then again. Sooty coming upstairs and hopping up onto the princess bed looking for love. Hit snooze one more time while snuggling.

The sun is barely crept over the horizon and through the window I see the branches of the trees, their leaves changed color weeks ago and only a few have not been blown off yet. I want to lay in bed with my loving cat at my side and enjoy the beautiful day; but alas there are responsibilities. The first one is to flip the blankest off and get to hell out of bed.

Patter down the stairs and pour myself a cups of coffee, fill the bird feeder, put out some food for the kitties. The birds come, the cats come out to watch the birds. They are next door I think it is Georgie and Other. They are chasing each other, I have not seen those two play for a long time. A couple of squirrels arrive to clean up the bird food that the birds are shaking onto the ground. I am leaning against the counter, sipping my coffee, without effort there is a smile creeping onto my face, the squirrel climbs the lilac tree and attempts to reach the bird feeder, weather it is because the birds are harassing it or it realizes the futility of its efforts, it gives up and I chuckle. I would like to stay and watch some more but the day beckons.

Back up the stairs clean, groom, dress, damn I am late. I am supposed to be at my desk in 10 minutes. I still have not said good morning to Stu. My darling bunny is waiting patiently to be acknowledged. I kneel down to give him some cheek rubs and kisses. Then I head to the kitchen to get his morning meds. Instead of waiting patiently on his mat he follows me to the kitchen.....well not onto the kitchen floor but to the edge of the living room. His Medcam is pineapple flavor and he thinks it is a treat. But the treat he really wants is more cheek rubs. He does tooth purrs and it feels wrong to rush off when all he wants is love. Just two more minutes then I must go.

Driving to work I merge into the Don Valley Parkway, the valley is full of a low lying mist. Again the nearly naked trees are looking elegant and beautiful the mist adds a mystical shroud. I want to pull in to Taylor Creek and go for a walk, but I am already late for work.

The Lyrics of a Harry Chapin song include the line "we give up our sunshine, so we can buy what we need". Today feels like one of those days.

The Patriarch

I kinda left the tale of the feral cats hanging there......

I was looking for pictures that I have taken of White Kitty.   But it seems they are all on the camera that I left outside in the rain....and like the recipe for the cake in MacArthur's Park, I will never have them again.

White kitty is a big old dumb cat that comes around and eats the food that I put out.  I first noticed White Kitty coming around last winter, Sooty and Cleopatra would be taking advantage of their respective timeshare arrangement in front of the sliding doors, when one or the other of them would let out a blood curdling howl.  I would bolt upright from wherever in the house that i was and come running.

Seeing White Kitty shoving his butt up on the frost covered lilac bush never seemed like adequate reason to have my heart beating 200 times every minute.  I would explain this to my spoiled indoor kitties and encourage them to be tolerant of White Kitty, and stop giving me a heart attack.  When Beat Up Kitty comes around there is not such a violent reaction!!!

And Beat up Kitty was coming around on a regular basis,  winning my heart with her "I wanna trust you but life has been hard on me" attitude.   And White Kitty was commin around with a "thanks for the food now ya wanna rub my belly"  attitude.  Not saying White Kitty looks like the winner of most loved kitty of the year.  He was always showing up shivering in the dead of winter looking for a handout.  I thought he and Beat Up Kitty were rival Tom Cats fighting for territory.  In spite of the fact that my affections were leaning towards Beat Up Kitty, White Kitty seemed to be the dominant Tom.  He would show up on my front step when Beat Up Kitty was hanging out and Beat Up Kitty would run away.  Same thing in the backyard, on the roof of my neighbors shed.  In spite of the fact that Beat Up Kitty looks like the tougher of the two, White Kitty was seeming the Alpha.

Then one fine spring morning I stepped out the front door to see Beat Up Kitty sharing a amorous tryst with White Kitty in my driveway.  I told myself they were two Toms fighting.  But  Grizabellas kittens a few months later were the proof in the pudding,  White Kitty is the neighborhood Tom deadbeat Dad.

The Matriarch

It seems like the wild ones have always been around, but it actuality I think it has been about a year since the ragged old tom started showing up on my doorstep.  He had a scratched up eye, was missing part of his ear and appeared to have a serious case of mites or something that was making him scratch his ears raw.

My natural instinct was to provide some sort of care.  I started with food that was readily accepted.  Beat up Kitty became a regular visitor to my doorstep.  In spite of his appearance his demeanor was anything but aggressive.  He was serene and easygoing.  He never hissed or ran away, he did not show aggression or fear of me.  But in spite of all of this he would only accept my company if I stayed out of arms reach.  If I came closer he would step away. 

As time went on I came to understand that Beat Up Kitty wasn't just my Beat up Kitty but also my neighbors TomTom and another neighbors doorstep cat.

Then in April beat up kitty showed up at dinner time with a couple of young uns.  Humm methinks Beat Up Kitty is not the neighborhood Tom, but rather the neighborhood tramp.

My neighbor still calls her TomTom, I have renamed her Grizabella after the Heroine of Cats

Season 4 of Mad Men

From the beginning, I have been a Mad Men fan.  I love the perspective of looking back on a period of not so distant history and recognizing how much has changed.  There is Don Draper, holy yummy, Betty Draper giving her kids dry cleaning bags to play with, Sal Romano, living in the closet, and the big surprise was that there were gay guys that DIDN'T live in the closet. What we call sexual harassment today is a joke compared to this stuff.



And of course the fashion.  I LOVE 50s fashion.  I love the pleated structured dresses that the women wear.  Even the "skin tight" outfits of Joan Halloway seem like overcoats compared with the Lycra dresses offered up today.

As much as I love the show, there has been a basic element that, for me, has been lacking.  The characters have been developed but their positions at Sterling Cooper...well there has not seem to be allot of explanation about why they are "respected" in their field of expertise.  Don craps all over his female Jewish client, Pete spends all day gossiping and playing pranks with the Boys, and Peggy seems totally incapacitated by her inferiority issues, Joan is secure in her role as the pretty girl and will not tolerate any interlopers, Roger inherited his position and uses it to get laid, Bert has moved on from advertising and is evolving into a higher life form.  These are the people that Don chooses take with him when he sets out on his own.

When season three ended I was soo impressed with the way that loose strings had been tied up I actually wondered it the show was wrapping up. 

Then season 4 came along.  The pretty dresses and the historical perspective have worn thin and there is a sinking feeling in the pit of my psyche telling me that the downward spiral is about to begin.  I was not expecting find out that Peggy has a backbone, Pete schemes to get and keep clients, Don really has no integrity when it comes to who he sleeps with, Bert really does care about what happens, Joan actually does more that show up and look hot....Roger (thankfully) remains the 12 year old boy trying to avoid getting into trouble.


This past season has made things all come together.  I am feeling like all three pervious seasons were just laying the groundword for a tale that is going to be long, winding and very entertaining.

Sherlock original BBC series picked up by Showcase

Years ago I read the complete Sherlock Holmes series, not so much out of an interest in the character but because it seemed to me that the main characters and supporting characters seemed to be referred to rather often in the TV, movies, and books I was reading at the time

The BBC series Sherlock has thus far impressed me.  Although set in modern times the stories follow the tales set down by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle with more accuracy that I expected.  They have not tried to turn Sherlock into a charismatic hero.  This Sherlock is a socially awkward genius, his morphine addiction has been replaced with a nicotine addiction (fed by patches), Dr Watson is a veteran of the current war in Afghanistan as the original was of the same country different time.

Hollywood could learn a thing or two from BBC about how to treat a beloved fictional hero.  The character development of Sherlock is great.  The evolution of the friendship between the two main characters and their interaction with Scotland Yard is great. 

Love it, hope it does not get canceled.

Cutting the crusts of the Sandwich....so to speak

As the fourth of five children, I think I can safely say that by the time it got around to rearing me; Mom was exhausted.  Lunch pails were usually filled with PB & J slapped between two hunks of homemade bread.  Sometimes there would be chicken salad,, tuna salad, or just PB or J slapped between two hunks of bread. 

At lunch time, friends would open up their lunches and nibble on sandwiches cut into halves, or quarters, some with crusts cut off or sometimes the only child girl would have sandwiches cut in the shape of hearts. 

On special occasion's, church functions, ladies meetings, baby showers, wedding showers, or visiting Priests or Nuns, Mom would pull out the Wonder bread, mix things like celery and green onions, salt, pepper and paprika would be added into the salad and the sandwiches would be cut in ways that made heart sandwich girl look unloved in comparison. 

Being my Mothers daughter, Stus dinner usually consist of a handful of pellets in a bowl, more botanical hay on a plate, refill of the water bowl (with some cranberry juice in the water) and his salad: some lettuce (usually endive), some dandelion leaves, 2 or 3 collard or kale leaves, 2 or 3 leaves of some sort of choy, a few carrot tops, some dill and some parsley. None of it is cut up just put on a plate or a bowl and served up to him.  He never complains, he eats it all, and appreciatively shows up for more the next day.

Today at the grocery store I notice that Spring salad Mix is coming up to its best before date and has been reduced by 50 percent.  It has been a long week and I don't want to have to go to the vegetable market after work but the Salad crisper is pretty bare.  So I  decide to pick up a prepackaged salad for Stu. 

As I am struggling to get the top off of the plastic container Stu is circling my legs in excitement.  Once the cover is off I set the container down in front of him and he picks a tiny piece of one type of lettuce, nibbles it down, selects a tiny piece of another piece of lettuce, nibbles it down, ever so gingerly. I finish making the rest of his dinner,  fill a plate with the packaged salad and put the container in the fridge.

Stu reminds me of how I used to feel eating those tiny sandwiches my Mom used to make....I didn't need a sandwich with crusts cut off to know that Mom loves me but they did make me feel special every now and then.

Sooty Puddy Cat

(to the tune or Rubber Ducky)

Sooty Puddy

Your the one

That makes snuggle time so won-

der-ful

Sooty Puddy

Your the Cat

Your so fluffy, And your black

its true

Sooty Puddy

Your so wonderful

Sooty Puddy

Your so wonderful

Sooty Puddy

Your so won-der-ful

Because my conversations are usually about Stu; you may have the impression that Sooty is a neglected cat.  Truth is that Sooty absolutely refuses to be neglected. 

Yesterday was an example of my fluff muffin coming front and centre of what was going on.  Everything I tried to do she was under my feet while I washed dishes, hanging out in the basement while I sorted  laundry or lazing in the backyard while I pegged clothes to the line and folded dry laundry and of course when changing the bed linens she was right there chasing the sheets.  Once she was done helping and her cat bed was in its place at the end of  the bed, she stretched out on he back presenting her belly for a good old belly rub.  While rubbing her belly I felt a lump.......

Sweet Jesus and all the saints, don't let my cat be sick.  I am a very lapsed Catholic and don't remember all  the proper prayers and which saint to pray to for what so I  make up my own prayers.

It still feels like yesterday that Cleo was taken from me....I still come home from work and expect her to be at the top of the stairs, when I am sitting in the backyard I still look for her in the chair across from me.  The thought of something bad happening to Sooty is too scary to deal with.  

Today I call the vet and make an appointment for 2pm, leave work and come home, get the pet carrier from the basement and in order to get Sooty to come I snuggle with Stu.  Sure enough Miss Jealous comes thumping down the stairs and gets her head between my hand and Stu.  Then she turns into a wildcat as I attempt to get her into the carrier.  Amazingly I manage to get her in with no bloodshed.  

Sooty does not travel.  I take her to the vet only when she is ill because of the stress it causes her.  Today was the worst yet.  During the 4 block drive she turned into a dead weight, not moving and pressed to the floor of the carrier where she had peed.  The vet was held up and we had to wait about 15 minutes,  she did not come around all the time we were there, she cowered on the examination table with her tail under her.  The good news is that her stressed condition made her easy to examine,  normally she would not allow herself to be rolled on her back and have her belly poked and prodded unless it was her idea

The poking and prodding thankfully did not seem to have found anything significant.  Maybe a fatty deposit.  Taking a syringe sample would not likely reveal anything based on the location, so we are going to "wait and see" if it gets bigger surgery would have to be done to remove it, if it stays the same we are not going to worry.  There is no pain or change in her eating ect.  If it were not for the fact that she has not been to the vet for 8 years I think I would have been diagnosed as a hypochondriac.  Fortunately her stress was so apparent that the vet did not give me the usual lecture about how important annual checkups are.

back into the carrier and all the way home she is a dead weight in the carrier, she slithers out when I open the door , then realizing she is home starts rubbing against my leg, walks to the food bowl, and gives me the ultimate statement of love....the tail quiver.

I could not be happier. 

The Legacy of September 11, 2001

Just when I thought 911 was being slotted to its horrific spot in history the whole Terry Jones fiasco rears up.


This man takes it upon himself to disrespect the faith of somewhere between 1-2 billion "B"illion people because a handful (or less) of that population committed such an atrocity nine years ago. Politicians worldwide have condemned this guy, but lots of people have given him validation.

Last week I was in the lineup at Walmart and read on the cover of a tabloid that President Barack Obama is Muslim. The proof was inside. The people behind me in line were noticing it too and they shook their heads saying that they did not believe it was true. I said that I did not believe so either, but that if he is it is not a crime worthy of such a headline.   After giving it a few seconds thought, they agreed with me.  It took a few seconds for them to realize that being Muslim is not a crime.

It seems more and more an insipid acceptance of racism against Muslim people (or just to be safe anyone with brown skin) is infesting American society.   And American Society has a very strong influence on Canadian Society and I suspect many European societies. 

After the attacks of 911, the United States and the world were numb, but made a conscious decision to NOT  give in to terrorists, to NOT sit in front of the television terrified by the repeated images of towers falling and get on with our lives.  I am hopeful that that same resolve can be recognized to turn us back from the backslide into racism that seems to be permeating popular feelings.

I wish I were only writing to commemorate the lives that were lost or devastated in the attacks 9 years ago, I feel I am committing a slur those lives and the families that have personally grieved, to be writing about anything else.  I honestly wish that this day would be set aside for them. 

This should not be a day for posturing.  Religions have their Holy days, Veterans have their days (albeit not significant enough to recognize their heroism) but today should be about the victims of the attacks, and the Free World that stood up refused to be defeated by those attacks.

The Mighty Cranberry

It is a well known fact that Stu is a senior Bunny. When his health is well I really don't dwell on the fact, but the minute anything goes wrong I worry like crazy.  The last couple of days have been a little tense for BunnyMummy.  Stu has been suffering a bout of incontinence.  I will forgo the gory details, but for the past three days bunny bum baths have been a requirement in the BunnyMummy house. 


Sunday a full bath with a blow dry, Monday I used Witch Hazel to wipe things clean and noticed some bald spots and put some cream on, Tuesday used Witch Hazel as a poultice on the bald spots that were now looking red and put some petroleum jelly with Calendula to keep the bald spots dry, no blow dry so baby powder.  Stu has tried to be gracious about all this fussing but he clearly does not like it.  As luck would have it I had some Crasins in my desk drawer at work that I had brought home for him and have been giving them to him as a reward for his patience.  Knowing that cranberry juice is recommended for UTI for people I wondered if it might not help bunnies too and added some to his water bowl.

I know there is a Crasin in my Salad

Today I went out and got some new sheepskin bedding for his raw skin to lie in and a new Ionic blow dryer, thinking we are looking at baths a couple of times a week.  Call the Vets office but cant get an appointment till Friday, I book the appointment but decide that if things are not good when I get home I will take him to the clinic across town if they can get him in earlier.  When I come home he is dry, his bedding is dry, his litterbox has been used.  I pick him up and take him outside he hops around then settles down to nibble on some grass.

Sigh,! I am so relieved.  Not sure if I will cancel the vet appointment but for now I am praising the mighty cranberry

Stop taking pictures while I dig for it.

Retraction

My love hate relationship with raccoons is definatly full on hate now.   Filthy flea ridden vermin that refuse to acknowledge their place in the world and continually encroach on mine. 

This evening Stu was in the backyard while I was arranging some flowers, when a gang of raccoons come over the fence and start chowing down on the leftover food that I had put out for the wild cats.  I shooed them away, removed the food and went back to my flowers when front doorbell rang. I went in the backdoor to the front door to find that Angel, the next door neighbous dog, was out for a walk and wanted to say hello.  Snuggled with Angel and chatted with his Moms for a bit then went inside....Sooty runs past me and scoots upstarirs, there is snorting and I move on to find 5 raccoons in my kitchen.  Scoffing down Sootys food and water, attempting to open the storage container where the rest of her food is.  Muddy footprints all over the floor and a row about to break out over the bag of food that is for the backyard cats. 

It takes a bit more than shooing, some taps with the broom, shouting and yelling  to get them out of the house.  Even with the door closed behind me I have trouble getting the lot out of the yard, as one is going over the fence another is coming back. 

Once they are gone I go inside to clean up the mess they have made, and return to my peaceful evening in the backyard with Stu.  Reading my book till I hear some rustling coming from the back of the yard and the gang of coons are back and this time they are showing an unhealthy interest in Stu.  They are stealthily moving in to surround him.  Again I shoo them off and this time I pull out a floor mat and sit down in the grass with Stu.  The gang moves next door and onto the roof of my next door neighbor and continue to stare down Stu.

In the past the raccoons that have come around have only been interested in cat food.  This gang are defiantly persona non grata if they are harassing my rabbit.

The Creatures of the Night

Living in the urban jungle that is Toronto means that you are going to live with other urban creatures.  No I am not speaking of  stockbrokers and lawyers....I am speaking of the neighborhood urban creatures.

Meet Rocky, Rockie and Rochelle.

Friends and loved ones have reprimanded me for my easygoing ways when it comes to sharing space with raccoons.  Rocky Rockie and Rochelle were three babies that came to my backyard every evening for the first summer of their lives.  They were so cute and not in the least bit violent and they had no fear of me.  It would not be unusual to have one paw my foot if I were sitting in the backyard when they came around. 

Of course the reason that they kept coming around was for the cats food, and if I left the backdoor open they would stroll into the house and help themselves.  A mild shoo would send them on their way.  As they got older they, or their cousins, (now that they are full grown I cant tell them from any other raccoon) got more aggressive in their attempts to get to the food source and damaged my roof and porch so I am not quite so kindly towards them as I used to be.

This spring there was a big raccoon who showed up at the backdoor begging for food and I shooed her away, only then did I notice the four babies shuffling behind her.  My shooing scattered them in different directions but the smallest of the bunch got separated and started crying, or chittering.  I felt terrible.  As the summer has progressed this same bunch keep coming around because I have been putting out food for the feral cats in the neighborhood.  I have come to recognise that the small one is not too bright.  He gets separated from the rest quite easily, or perhaps they are trying to run off and leave him behind.  All the same his cuteness buys him points.

They are cute, they are curious, they are eternally hungry, while I don't encourage petting them, or even allowing them into your house, I doubt any bodily harm would come from either.  I wish there were not so many of them.  They do fight with each other over territory and food, but aside from that I love sharing my urban space with raccoons.

Squirrels on the other hand......

Another

When Mister left this world two years ago,  my heart was raw and broken from loosing the fight to have him adapt to life as a tripod.  I had gone into his ordeal with bone cancer convinced that if he came through the surgery all Else would fall in line.  Every story I had found about tripod bunnies told of wonderful success story of rabbits living years and years happily hopping on three legs.  The surgery went well but Mister did not adapt. I will not recount the details, it breaks my heart to recall.

In the two years since I realized that the life of my beloved Mister was a constant struggle for him, I have lost my father, Misters beloved Lily, and my dear cat Cleopatra.  For each loss I cried and my heart broke, but never with the same feeling of defeat that loosing Mister left.

My broken heart knew that Mister would never be replaced, but deep inside I knew that there would be another bunny in my life.  If not for me then for Lily.  Lily was always an affectionate bunny, she loved me from the moment we met, and a few hours later she loved Sooty and Cleopatra.  Unfortunatly Sooty and Cleopatra never reciprocated the affection.  Mister came into our home as a companion for her.   Bunny bonding is supposed to take days or weeks.  Lily and Mister bonded immediatly.  Its true that the bonding was a bit ackward.  Mister, the unaltered rabbit wanted to display his love in a physical way, but had never seen a girl before.  He attempted mounting Lily forward, backward, sideways.  Lily was fixed and did not seem to mind so it was decided that Mister was the dominant and Lily was the cleaner of ears, eyes, well his whole coat needed cleaning, and it suited the two of them perfectly.  Even after Mister had his "snip" operation.  It was beautiful to see them together.  When Mister was gone Lily carried on but I new that her life was better with a mate than without.

It took six months.   I seen Stu on a rescue site.  He was close to Lily in age.  In my idelic lala imagination I was thinking of the two of them snuggling happily together for the rest of their days.  And it seemed like that was the way it was going to be.  Stu came home and we started the bonding process.  Stu in the cage and Lily saying "let him out, I need to clean his ears, and his eyes, and his entire coat".  Stu liked having his face and ears and coat cleaned.  Stu liked Lily. 

Stu had months with Lily compared to the years that Mister shared with her.  When her little heart stopped I told myself that there would be no more bunnies.  Stu had lived a decade as a bachlor before he knew Lily and he would adjust to that lifestyle again.   The last year has had its ups and downs; and Stu has readjusted to life as a bachlor, he enjoys his carrot tops, hangs out under the lazyboy chair, appreciates when he gets into the backyard and does the odd binky.  But I cant help but know that he was happier when his face was being washed and his ears were being cleaned.  

Maybe I should get another, a rabbit as a companion for Stu.  I am not sure that my love is enough to make him happy.

  

Hallmark and other Greeting cards

Before Christmas I remember watching a television commercial for greeting cards. The gist of the commercial was that If you were suffering economically you could still let your loved ones know that you cared by shelling out for a greeting card.
At the time I thought it was a dumb commercial but a few weeks ago I was standing in the card aisle along with so many others. Pulling cards, reading, returning. I thought my dilemma was a tough one....finding the perfect card for my mom and a card for my stepmother. Standing next to me was a young couple with a gurgling infant who were as intent upon their task of two mothers, grandmothers, and a card to the new mommy from the gurgler. It came home to me how much time and care most people put into selecting the perfect card. So mu cynicism came back to bite me on the ass.
Next Sunday is fathers day. Selecting a card for my father has always been hard. My parents divorced before divorce was popular. The idea for weekend fathers had not yet been established. So Dad was a guy that we seen around town, I would head out to his place a couple of times a year for an obligatory visit. Boxing day was always reserved for Dad. The cards for Dad from the princess who learned to dance by standing on Daddys feet were totally inappropriate.
In spite of the fact that our father daughter relationship was not played out in a Hallmark fashion, at the end of the day the sentiment is the same. There is nothing that can compare to the feeling of being buried in Dads hug, his kiss on the cheek, his choked whisper telling me that he loved me.
This will be the second year that I am not sending a card to Dad. He died on March 13, 2009. When I am in the Drug Store, or the Department Store, and I see people standing in front of the newly erected display of Fathers Day Cards I cant help but feel cheated.

Has Missing Cleo made me paranoid?

Its over a month now, I don't like it, but I am getting used to waking up with no cat at the end of the bed waiting to welcome me to a new day.

Today I came home from work and noticed that Stu does not seemed to have eaten or used his litter box. Cant be sure cause I just did a minimal cleaning yesterday. So today changed the litter and the blanket that he has under the lazy boy and all of the towels that he nests in. Got out the vacuum and sucked up any poops hiding in corners or crevices, if any new ones are made I will know. He ate all the treats that I hand fed him, dill, parsley and carrot top with a chunk of carrot still attached, but no water and no hay.

I have the same feeling in the pit of my stomach that I had when Cleo started failing. I am praying that I am just being paranoid and that tomorrow I will wake up and have to fill up all his bowls before I leave for work.

Sooty...the ONLY Cat

This week was back to work after a week off. The week off was spent cocooning, licking the wound of my broken heart so to speak. But Monday morning it was Hi Ho Hi Ho off to work I go.
Comming home from work was actually something that I was not looking forward to. I knew that when I opened the front door there would be no front paws dangling over the top stair and no tub of Love at the top of the stairs waiting for me.

"But" you say "you have Sooty to comfort you".

"Pfft" says I "Sooty and Cleo never liked each other" Cleo was the Queen and Sooty was the snotty subservant cat, with me serving as slave to them both. These days I do notice Sooty seems to miss being swatted when she reached the top of the stairs or jumps up onto the bed" . She seems nervous like she still expects the swat.

Let me tell you about Life with Sooty now that she is the ONLY cat....AKA the new Queen.

I arrive home this evening somewhat late cause I went shopping after work. My bladder is full so I rush upstairs to empty it. All the while Sooty is chasing me in an attempt to tell me about her her her.

As my bladder is empting she is reminding me in LOUD VOCAL TONES "I have a full bladder too"

"There is a litter box in the basement for you, the litter box that was upstairs was for Cleo"

"MEOW MEOW MEOW" (THE CAPS DOES NOT DO JUSTICE TO THE LOUDNESS) translation "I dont want to use the litter box in the basement, I want Cleos litter box and I want it HERE and I want it NOW"

"Listen, this is a one cat house now, so only one litter box should be required. I tolerated you two refusing to use the same litter box but now you are the only cat and the litter box in the basement is all yours"

"MEOW MEOW MEOW" (again THE CAPS DOES NOT DO JUSTICE TO THE LOUDNESS) translation "I dont want to use the litter box in the basement, I want Cleos litter box and I want it HERE and I want it NOW IF I DONT GET IT I AM GOING TO POOP ON YOUR FLOOR"

By this time I have finished attending to my personal call of nature and flush. Years ago before they wore me down Cleo and Sooty both used the toilet and to this day the flush of a toilet is like opening the floodgates with Sooty. "If you really need to go use the toilet" I say "you know how"

Now she really does need to go. Maybe she was being a drama queen before maybe not. "I NEED THAT LITTER BOX AND I NEED IT NOW"

"Hop up, I know you can"

"YOU ARE A WRETCHED PERSON, THE DEMONS OF HELL ARE NOTHING COMPARED TO YOU. GIVE ME MY LITTERBOX!!!"

"Cummon you are a smart kitty, I know you can do it"

"SATANS SPAWN, DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND MEOW TALK.....LITTER BOX....HERE....NOW....I AM ABOUT TO EXPLODE.....HELP ME! HELP ME! IM DYING!"

"Sooty hop up, I know you can, I know you want to, If you really need to go then use the toilet"

"I HATE YOU" she meows as she jumps up on the toilet.....and starts to dig....at the water......(I am remembering how they broke me down all those years ago)

"Sooty, you dont have to dig. Just go"

She positions herself......changes her mind and digs some more.

I am trying to be calm and reassuring as I encourage her but she is splashing toilet water all over the bathroom. "You can do it honey, your a smart cat, but you dont have to dig".

She positions herself again, but now her paws are wet and she slips off the the toilet. At least she is quiet. I stifle a snicker (well almost), she ignores me and hops back up. She is digging some more, more toilet water everywhere, on the walls, on the floor, all over the toilet seat.

Outside the bathroom door I am filling the litterbox with litter. Hearing the sound of kitty litter filling the box she hops off the toilet and jumps into the box. While she is doing her duty, I am doing mine. Cleaning up the mess she made in the bathroom. Once finished I scoop the mess she made in the litterbox.

"MEOW MEOW MEOW" translation " hurry up there is only leftover kibble in my food bowl and I am STARVING TO DEATH"

About Cleopatra

Before Cleopatra came into my life I had never actually had my own pet. When I was a kid we always had a dog and a cat or two, but they were family pets. Even my previous cat Imp never felt like she was really "MY" cat. When I got Imp I had a roommate who worked from home. She spent more time with Imp when she was a kitten than I did and Imp was as much her cat as mine.

When I drove by a house that had a sign out front that they had free kittens; getting a cat was nowhere of my spectrum of things to do . I stopped just to take a look, cause kittens are cute. By the time I stopped all of the kittens had been adopted to good homes except for the supposed runt, who the foster mother had temporally named Ladybug. The foster mother did not object to me "just looking" at the kitten. We chatted a bit while Ladybug wobbled up onto my leg and climbed onto my shoulder. I was in love. I could not bear to go home without this creature that seemed all big green eyes and ears.

I was unprepared and did not have a box or carrier to take a kitten home in....I had a laundry basket but that didn't work very well. I had to stop at Zellers en route. I had nothing at home, no litter box, no litter, no cat food, no toys. Typically I am not the type of person who can "pop" into any store. I have to look around, see what is on sale, compare prices, and go from store to store, before I make a purchase....but on this trip I was in and out of Zellers in less than 10 minutes, and this was a the August long weekend. I had to get back to my baby.

I spent the rest of the weekend mesmerized by her. I hated being separated from her to go to work when the weekend was over. Coming home in the evening, she was so happy to see me, made it clear that she loved me too.

That did not change over the next 12 years. I grew a bit thicker through the middle, grew some grey hairs. Cleo grew into a big lazy fat antisocial cat. We added Sooty to our family who Cleopatra never came to like, We moved from our apartment to our house and within a year Lily was added to out family. Lily came to me in the same manner that Cleo did. I just wanted to meet the Bunny that was "free to a good home". I really did not intend to take her home with me. But I fell in love with the sweet bunny, like I had fallen in love with the big eyed, big eared kitten. Cleo was indifferent to Lily (somewhat better to her total disdain of Sooty) unfortunately Lily liked Cleo, and Sooty, but neither one of them would give her the time of day. That was why Mister came into the picture. That worked out wonderfully. Lily and Mister loved one another. But Cleo never created any bonds with anybody but me. I would have liked it she had of been the type of cat who would have been all over people when they came to visit and rubbed up against begging for petting and chin rubs. But inevitably when the doorbell rang she would run up the stairs, white belly of waddle waddling to and fro. But when I walked into a room she would always look to me with those big green eyes and I would know that she loved me. She would start purring when I would speak her name. If I was to tired to give her a good petting before I fell asleep she would still purr for me from the other side of the bed when I would put my hand on her fur.
On Saturday of last week I was putting away laundry. Cleo was on the end of the bed and she looked like she was purring. But when I came close to her I realized that she was breathing deeply. This continued for the rest of the day. I got up on Sunday morning to take her to the vet but our vet was closed on Sunday. Her condition had not changed, I watched here closely and first thing Monday I took her to the clinic. The Vet did a physical examination and determined that either her respiratory system or her heart was failing. Tests and treatment would clarify the situation but the outcome was still going to be the same.....I was going to have to say goodbye to my beloved Cleo. I did not want her to suffer and my vet gave me the numbers of some vets who would come to my house and to send Cleo to her final sleep while in the comfort of her home. For the time being it seemed to me that she was tired and weak but not in pain. She still would look up at me when I came into the room and purr when I petted her. As long as this continued I was going to take every moment that we had together. On Wednesday the weariness seemed to be overwhelming her and I resolved to make the call the next day. At 11:45 she meowed loudly and I came to her....I held her head and petted her and she passed away.
I cried.....some more (I have been crying off and on all week), and I will continue to cry more. Sometimes I think I am doing okay....I had to take her remains to the vet. I thought it would just be a formality, but I was a blubbering mess. There will be more tears I know but this heartbreak is because I had a wonderful beautiful cat. I love her dearly and know that she loved me. And that is the important thing about Cleo.

Could there be a purpose for this blog?

I started this blog as a means to following the blog of rock01 http://rock01blog.blogspot.com/
I kinda feel like a dweeb when I see how much time and effort other people put into their blogs and mine is just sitting here with pics of my critters....I can do that on facebook.



I have decided that I will randomly critic TV commercials....warning this will likely not be pretty.

Cleopatra

Sooty

Stu

Mister

Lily