About a week or so ago we started foster-parenting Milo. Milo is a two year old boy kitty who started his life in a rough way, on the streets of Boston. When he was found, they thought he was a female kitty ‘cuz he was taking care of an abandoned kitten.
We took him in and are falling in love with him. He has what we refer to as “insta-purr” – the minute you touch him he’s happy as a clam being pet, rubbed, scratched, and otherwise paid attention to. He’s a HUGE galoot running about 20 pounds – and he doesn’t have that much weight to lose – he’s just a big damn cat! He’s a serious sweetheart of a cat. Off-the-charts loving and lovable.
Unfortunately he’s FIV positive – a result of living on the streets for so long. Apparently as much as five percent of the cat population is FIV positive now. It’s not dangerous to humans, but it’s a bummer for all involved. We’re keeping him isolated from the other cats – though he’s had a few carefully-supervised excursions throughout the house.
Pelase say hi! Meow!
My last grandparent, my maternal grandmother Florence Blongastainer, passed yesterday.
She was 91 years old, and until 18 days ago, she was living on her own, still driving, and happily causing trouble. She grew up during the Great Depression in a family of six kids. As a very sickly child, the doctors told her parents she probably wouldn’t live to be a teenager. She made it just a tad past that . Along the way she brought up two fantastic children, thoroughly enjoyed her six grandchildren, and doted on her fourteen great-grandchildren. I’m extremely grateful that she and my kids got to know each other well. They, like me, are going to miss her a lot.
In 2011 we had a big family party to celebrate her 90th birthday. There are lots of pictures extant that include me with my tongue hangin’ out and a bourbon in my hand. My grandmother however actually possessed some decorum. During the session with the photographer at her 90th, I managed to cajole her to raise her glass and (nearly) stick her tongue out. I’m glad I did, as I really love this picture and will treasure it.
When I shuffle off, I can only hope to be half as fondly-remembered as my grandmother is. Miss you, grammy.
I’m a bit of a neat-freak, as my friends and family will attest. My desks at home and work are usually quite organized and laid out with their requisite ‘stuff’ in its requisite places. When we moved into our home in mid-2000, before the kids were born, I had the house quite well organized, with everything stored in its requisite, rational places. I knew kids were going to be an amusing assault on my organizational skills and borderline-neatness-OCD .
I do get occasionally annoyed with extensive messes when it literally looks like bombs went off and you can’t even walk from point A to point B in the house. But luckily, that’s not that common.
The everyday splatter of toys, books, clothing, blankets, computers, iPods, footwear, schoolwork, food – and who the hell knows what else – is comforting to me. It’s kids being kids. It tells me they’re having fun, they’re almost always learning something in their play (legos, books, math and writing workbooks, creative endeavors, etc.), and even if it’s annoying that the living room floor is 30% covered in lego constructs of various flavors, I’m proud of their ability to build cool stuff and enjoy the heck out of that exercise. Each little mess reminds me that they’re kids; that kids play; and that play is good.
This morning I was sitting in the living room, working on my laptop, surveying a crudload of legos, a pile of books, a mess of piano sheet music, and two laptops on one of the couches and on the ottoman. Nothing had been put away. I smiled though – instead of cursing. I love their messes! They signal what they’re up to, what they’re learning, and what’s making them happy. And all that makes me happy!
Besides, how can you get angry at a little monkey this damn cute – even if she is making a mess?!?!
We lost one of our cats yesterday
Leroy – the old lug, big galoot, golden kitty – called it a day. He had developed a very unpleasant tumor in his throat.
He was a great kitty. We referred to him as the “insta-purr” cat since the second you started showing him any sort of affection, he revved up the purr engine. Although he wasn’t with us long enough, we’re happy we had him in our home for the time we did, and we’re happy we were able to rescue him from the shelter. The kids spent last night and a chunk of this morning making “I miss Leroy” pictures of him.
He will certainly be missed.
… but it’s just a matter of time.
Stephen was wildly ecstatic to have passed his test this evening to graduate to his Yellow belt. Daddy was double-extra proud of him!
Yesterday we had a lot to be thankful for at chez Broderick-Ruggieri.
Our home was blessed with a 23 lb turkey, two fantastic stuffings, my best cranberry sauce yet, and more deserts than you could shake a stick at.
More importantly, the house was blessed with 16 adults (term used loosely) and 9 crazy-giddy kids!
As tired as I am this morning, I can’t imagine being more thankful. Hope you and yours had a stupendously happy Thanksgiving.
Against her better judgement, the boss caved today and let us adopt two more cats, bringing the total to four.
A little over a year ago, we adopted two cats from the local shelter. Sadly, Kitty/Magenta didn’t make it – she passed away a couple weeks later due to fatty liver disease – not uncommon among stressed-out cats. Scarlet got through her first two years of life with other cats around, so we didn’t think it was optimal to have her be an only cat.
We kept monitoring the shelter and soon adopted Leroy, a 6-8 year old, big-lug, lovey-dovey, insta-purr gentleman cat to keep Scarlet (and us!) company. Somehow he managed to not get blogged about – shame on daddy! Here are some phone pics from a drive back from the kitty doc this summer. He really doesn’t like his carrier – it’s easier to just let him sit on your lap.
I’ve been bothering the boss for nigh a year now about getting two more cats (we had four cats for a long time until a few years ago). I was pushing to adopt two more older cats (sorry Siam and Molly!), but since Scarlet is an uber-alpha and since Leroy has some issues with his territory, the consensus was that female kittens were probably a much better idea.
This afternoon we brought home two 9-10 week old sisters who we’ve named Scooter and Emma. They’re still in the early stages of acclimating, so no super-cute pics of them yet – just a couple I took last week when they were still in the shelter. More snaps soon!
While daddy was diligently working in his office this morning, the monsters decided they’d paint their nails. Highly amusing but for the nail polish all over the table . School starts Tuesday. I think I can make it ’til then…