I was/am sick with the flu. So it was just another day for Bob, (Gracie dog and Lucy)....while tormenting and chasing the other animals around. And obviously EATING. In photo on bottom he was licking himself, that is why he can also pass for a Vampire Cat. I mean I fat Vampire Cat!
Ice is part of Bob's new life. Because ice is part of my life as I prepare ice tea "to go" every morning before work as well as I have an ice drink before bed. He would watch me prepare my iced drinks every day. When I looked down at Bob Benjamin Morrison Ogden he has that "left out look" in his eyes. So one day I pitched him a small peice of ice. He looked at it for a minute and then began playing with it. Every since that day whenever he hears the ice tray come out of the fridge and I bend it to loosen the ice, he is Bobby on the spot. You know, like "Johnny on the spot." Wonder where that phrase originated from anyway. Back to ice. So twice a day Bob and I have ice time! Sometimes three times if I have a poisonous coke. He loves his ice time. Me, notsomuch because I inveriably step in the lil puddle and get my sock wet. Nobody likes a wet sock before work or after.
Check him out starring at that ice chip before he pounces!
More Ice Chip starring.
Who has a cat that comes running for its ice treat anyway? Me! I do! Over here! I love that little guy except wait, forgot to tell you, the "lil bastad" randomly bit my wrist while I was typing this. (You all know from past posts, he lays right next to my laptop on the table.) Why does he do that?
Bite I mean. I actually think he is jealous the attention my laptop receives and he doesn't. I am serious. He didnt bite me hard, just enough to say, MY TURN MOM. But then WE ALL KNOW HE DOESNT HAVE RABIES RIGHT? No need to call animal control. "Alswell"....God that reminds me I have to pay $90 for that special license plate and very soon. (ALSWELL)
Stay well, stay happy, stay safe and get rich for every reason in the world. Laters....
Bob is the youngest of the critters in my life. Lucy is about eight years old and has anxiety issues and OCD. She traces everything with her eyes. Poor thing doesn't hold still long enough to get lovin's. She moves constantly like something is after her. I have Pheromone Spray and plug ins but nothing much works. She sleeps with me. That is when she feels safe.
Grace is, we think, around eight or nine. She is jealous and believes she should be number one at all times. Grace has never learned to play. Once in a while I can get her to chase her treat and bring it back to me. Mostly she just humps Lucy for entertainment. I am serious. Lucy lets her which is even stranger. Funny Farm lives on.....
Back to Bob.
So I brought my tall aluminum ladder up from the storage bin for some unreachable work. I leaned it against the wall. Suddenly I heard clanging. There he was, Bob was climbing the closed ladder. Up and down, might I add straight up and down! I was danged impressed. At least one out of three has some spunk. Like me.
P.S. He wasn't fifteen pounds back then!! Bet he couldn't pull that off now!
Well Bob is safe and well and happy and who knows he might get rich..... "FAT" chance!
More "Cat Tales" later.
Bob Benjamin Morrison Ogden does not care about the weather. He has everything he needs. I think. This is Granddaughter Karsyn loving Bob on a rainy day in the Plains. I mean come on, tornado warnings in mid November. I guess if I were a betting woman I would chose tornado's over snow. Tornado's are hit and miss and snow is everywhere and slick! Actually this photo was taken last June before Bob got playful and scratched or bit Karsyn causing family issues and an unexpected call from Animal Control, who insisted upon rabies vaccinations and further quarantine than the three months he had already been quarantined. No wonder he was mad. Life goes on.
Seriously, Another picture? Can I just have a break please! In the past nine months you have held me captive in your spare room, then your office, taken me to places where they poked and prodded every part of me, dosed me with chemicals in case I had worms, stuck a needle under my eye, might as well have been in my eye, squirted more chemicals into my ears making my brain swirl, shot me in the neck, and in the hind quarter with more chemicals. I heard them say I had to have rabies vaccination in my buttock because many times it causes nasty tumors and if they had given it to me in my neck they cant cut that off. But they can cut my leg off. Idiots. And I wasn't even given a choice. You cant get rabies sitting in a bedroom office for three months plus. Unless it can blow in the window. Oh well, MamaD has me on good food as well as a half jar of ham baby food every morning. No cancer for me thanks.
That said, be well, be safe, be happy, and get rich so you can fight city hall if you need to. Or take a trip to the big city ledges!
More "Cat Tales" later.
Sooo, Bob Benjamin Morrison Ogden has been with me for an incredible Nine Month period.
And I will say it has been similar to carrying a child nine months. I am more than ready for his "coming out" party making him a normal part of this household. And I believe we are close to that happening. He is a smart fifteen pound fellow. He knows my routine, he knows all the sounds I make leading to each routine. (I should trick him just for fun) I have to watch out because he races to beat me to where he knows I am headed. Bathroom is one. Laundry room another. Kitchen..... And he can get in my way so I have to watch carefully so he doesn't trip me. He runs and weaves beside and ahead of me. He follows and lays next to me whichever room I am in.
And his latest trick is being an escapee! He slips out the door every time it opens. He walks out and around to the front door. Checks out the elevator. Lays on his back until I come scoop all fifteen pounds of his lard butt up and carry it back home.
We've come a long way, Bob Ogden and I? And Grace and Lucy and LuLu (who has since gone back to his home with my daughter). It is now November and I left a lot out of the past several months. For instance: This below happened in June, 2013
Male Mammory Glands ..........by Diane Ogden
So this Bob Ogden, now. As I have written in "Cat Tales," came to me very sick last February. I spent $600 getting him well. He bit my granddaughter and caused family issues. He is jealous of my dog and my other cat who has sight issues so I must keep them separate which causes issues for me. He tries to bite my dog because I give the dog more attention. I carry her around so he cannot reach her. Why have I not taken him to the "Humane" Society? Because they told me they cant adopt him out as he bites. So - Yuppers, I got me a sit-che-a-tion! What to do? IDK. I just cant kill him is all. How humane is that? He used to be so loving until he got well and thought I cared more about the dog, which caused jealousy biting. He doesn't bite often, just now and then randomly. Just like a human yet unable to reason this out or speak it out. (He has since stopped biting unless you touch his humungous tummy)
I sincerely need that Cat whisperer fellow on the TV but I suspect he costs thousands. No I pretty much know it. I tried whispering Bob, Bob Benjamin, but he just looks at me like, "Ah actions speak louder then whispering lady!" I get it. I just do not know how to fix it. He needs a one animal one person home. And more activity considering he is humongous! I can hardly lift him and he has trouble jumping up on the sofa. Actually he is unable to jump onto the table. He has to do the chair first and then the table. He is very careful to jump down and actually it should be called clumps down.
In this photo Bob started out on top of the cushion. But he is so fat he slowly slid down, down, down to this place where I was able to run for my camera and get a photo of this. It was truly hilarious watching his fatsy butt drag him down while he was hanging on.
So I prepared him a spot on the love seat by the front window. Doesn't he look cool on the leopard throw?
I am looking for an AMAZING home for Bob, the character. He is young, playful, loves to be held and rocked. Needs a big cat tree. Lindsay found him at the old farm very sick. Cost me $550 to get him back to life. But I have two cats and a lil dog. Bob has to live in the spare bedroom as he is jealous. Needs a one cat home!! Needs a 15 year commitment. Is not declawed but uses a post (most) of the time. He listens well... loves to eat. Has a fat tummy cause he needs bigger area to exercise. I have become attached to Bob Ogden and so have his Vets at Banfield who all want him but have too many already. He will lay on your keyboard if you don't give him enough attention. He is special. P.S. on occasion out of nowhere he does a mini bite. That is annoying.
I have tried to dress the little beast in pretty things to no avail. What did I think anyway! Well I thought I could have a little fun with my lil man. I don't have a big man so I opted for a furry little one and not by choice as you have read. Bob Benjamin Morrison Ogden is a dickens of a fellow. He is out for kicks from the time he wakes up to bedtime. He also plays a bit rough but hey, he is a young boy. We adopted him into a household of women. Not just a household but an extended household of daughter and Grands. All women. Poor Bob. When he is too rough with the girls I shout out his name, "Bob!" and he knows what's coming and he runs for cover. Its a "TIME OUT!" Five minutes in the old quarantine bedroom/office. Sometimes he actually stops chasing when I give the initial "Bob" shout out. He is learning for sure. Quite the character he is. This is a shot of him waving to me after I couldn't find him. I called his name out several times before I noticed he was hailing me to see his wave and allow him to continue sleeping on the window sill in the sunshine.
These are photos of Bob Benjamin Morrison Ogden when he first came to live with me. He was very very sick. He would lay on my chest and reach for my face like he was thanking me. He did it every day until he was well. Then he bit me for keeping him quarantined so dang long. We're all good now though.... He is a living breathing loving part of the household. But.....He just got fat. Have to deal with that next. AND....I do not have a double chin like it looks like!!!! Its the way I am scrunching my body to love the cat and take a photo with the other hand.
Bob is out of Quarantine! He is back with the human race and loving it.
He and Lucy do not see eye to eye
Lucy is now in quarantine so as to introduce one at a time.
Gracie Dog stays very close to me at all times. Just in case.
"Look Lady I am trying to get along with you!" Bob Ogden to LuLuBelle who is "on top" of the game here! We have been working on the introduction for about two plus weeks now. LuLuBelle screams a lot and Bob just stares at her and walks away. Typical huh? LOL
BOB! Bob Ogden woke up with an abscess below his eye from the "funny farm fight." You know that place, farm, I was raised on where someone dropped this sweet precious feline off to fend for himself. I suspect they knew he needed some medical attention and said, "No way Hose." I should probably start calling Bob Hose and see if he responds. Back to my point. I dropped Bob of at Banfield Clinic for the third time, where Dr. so and so (She gave me some financial slack so I don't want to say her name publicly) took excellent care of him all day. She told me all the staff is pulling for Bob. He is the only cat in the history of her years as a Veterinarian who didn't need to be sedated to have a needle aspiration below the eye. Everyone loves Bob! BUT..... I asked Dr. so and so if Bob could die? She shrugged and said..."If we could do all we need to do to find out it would cost $900.00. That being said, we will take it day to day with Bob and hope for the best." And so I agree.
She also added a very strong antibiotic called doxicillian, $100 for the liquid, $46.00 at Target, and $10 at Banfield, to the Clavamox plus eye ointment. Oh and she mentioned the big dogs. You know the eye specialist I could take him to but they cost huge astronomical gargantuous bucks.
America needs to get a grip!! But I don't see that happening until America hits bottom. I only hope I am dead and gone before Korea bombs my and Bob's ass. (sorry but it just fits right in there ya know?) That word Ass I mean.
Okay so I am sitting in the waiting room waiting for Bob. There is wooden bench to sit and wait on. They bring Bob out and set him next to me. I feel so dang bad for Bob! He looks like chit. His eye is still swollen even after the extraction of much puss and blood, they told me. He has rec'd fluids, and an enema type medicine considering his belly was full of poo. And they also sent home worm meds. Jeez !!
Poor Bob!! I felt so bad for him I scooted backwards on the wooden bench to be able to bend down and speak soft words of comfort to him when I ungracefully fell backwards off the stupid bench. (Ha likes its the benches fault duh) I hit the hard metal edge of the dog scale with my elbow and my ars ass hit the edge of it and slid onto the floor and oh yes I had an audience! Like several people waiting to pic up their animals plus the staff at the desk and the ones wandering about. One said, "Are you okay?" I said, "I think so, physically but not sure humiliatingly, but I'm good, I'm good!" They laughed, and I could have cried a dang river from what my week with Bob and what the Care Credit Card might do to me.(CARE Credit ya right Care not) If I don't pay it off in 6 months the interest is to the moon Alice. 30%!!! Is that out of the ball park robbery, and I have good credit. So.....I am getting my cardboard sign ready ....to head out for the Macy's intersection to see if folks wont donate to my loving cause, BOB! You know like the guy that stands by the WalMart intersection making everyone so darn nervous cause you want to give him a $20 but your not sure if he is for real..hungry. Cause he looks like the same one every few months. And then the guy that brings his dog and makes the dog sit there in the snow all day while he stands with his cardboard sign and Styrofoam cup!!
Maybe I should write to Ellen! I don't need $25,000, I need $500! That should be doable huh? And one last and most important thing. I prayed big for Bob. I told Charles, (God who I call Charles) "Ya know Charles, I believe....so if I believe and I use your name cause I have no power without your sons name Jesus, so I have been taught.....well then Bob will be fine." So be it!! Bob will be fine. No more need for credit or to write Ellen, or for my blood pressure to hit the moon over a dumped off cat. Oh I also checked in with Budha. And that female Mother God lady too.
No, I just the need to pay it off and enjoy Bob for the rest of his life or find him a wonderful home. Either way hooray for Charles! And or all the gracious givers at the intersection of Macy's and Midvale Boulevard that Charles sent! Reminds me of the woman that prayed to win the lottery and she got overtime instead!!
So until my next adventure ........... be safe, be well, be happy, and get rich so you can fix a blessed stray cat that comes to you for help without your B.P. going to the moon. And some corporate credit card charging you 30% interest even tho you have good credit. Stay tuned for more "Cat Tales."
Loving Bob was easy. He was physically and emotionally in need of as much love as we could find time for. Considering he had been abandoned during the cold winter. Dropped or thrown from a vehicle into totally strange territory. Can you even imagine? Crouching down in fear of what enemy might appear from either or all sides. Cold, hungry, and very sick. Urinating blood and no water in sight and no desire for any. Having a fever and now covers. Finding a building with straw and hay for warmth yet having to fight the other Ferrel's for that mere necessity also. Having a swollen infected eye was making life even more difficult. Trying to communicate with any human that might come close but no one was hearing. The human brought milk and food but no comfort or medical attention. Sometimes people raised on farms believe the animal can fend for itself when in fact there are times it cannot. They cannot speak.
As you know my daughter brought him to my apartment (three rooms I will have you know)! And of course to the Veterinarian the following morning. (see Cat Tales for more read regarding)
Okay my rant is over. As I have said, Bob had to be quarantined to my office/spare bedroom until he was well and could stand up for himself with the other zoo members of my household. The 6 lb. Chihuahua Pom, the renter LuLuBelle, the mental case Lucy Lou. Until then we loved him, gave him medical attention, and the bestest food. When my Granddaughters would spend the night Bob was the happiest. They adored him and he had someone to sleep with. He obviously came from a family as he was household trained and loved children. He did not love other animals. Bob was born with a jealous bone. Many jealous bones in fact. We are working on that as I type and speak and live and dream on.....
After all, Bob Benjamin Morrison Ogden is a fifteen year commitment. Heck I never made it that long in any marriage! Hey that was not my fault! I am laughing. More and better "Cat Tales" coming.
Central Colony Madison, Wisconsin........by Diane Ogden
Oops, Typo. Meant to say Central Cat Colony at my place. Allow me. Christmas (my 19 year old cat) passed away several years ago. Not long after that I was at the "funny farm" where I was raised. (that is what is wrong with me or at least I have something to blame it on) I was with Dad out by the shed when this emaciated little white feline came over to my feet and began rolling around on them over and over while crying. I knew what she was saying, sooo I went into the shed and found an old red milk crate, put her in it , covered it with a dirty old piece of plywood, ran in the house and mummie dearest gave me a hunk of steak the size of my foot for her. I placed it in the red milk carton (she ate the whole thang) and drove her home! Took her to the Vet, got meds, got de-wormed, and two days later my daughters boyfriend came out from passing the litter and said, "OMG, that cat just shit a human turd!" I just stood there in shock, then looked at it myself and sure enough, it was the size of that what he said, yes. Must have been the footsized steak along with much more as she ate and ate and ate like she hadn't in a month. Not to mention she has OCD from all that trauma.
Her eyes go round in circles thank God in only one direction. And she cant be picked up, (only by young children) and me for a 20 seconds. She will sleep next to me and sit on my computer desk but no picky uppie. She loves me! I deal with her. Then came LuLu. (I did not name her)
Someone threw this lil grey kitten into my daughters car (so she says) and she brought it home. In a few months she and LuLu moved out. Then LuLu came back to my apt. a year later, left again for two years and came back Christmas of 2011 and is still here. LuLu has a mean streak due to something. I suspect she was misused when she lived with a house full of single drinking people a while back. She hisses, no one can pick her up, she chases Lucy down, but in the middle of the night I feel pressure on my chest and I open my eyes and her face is two inches from my nose. I would scream but she might hurt me. So I have learned that is her safe time and place to knead her paws on the only secure person in her life, me. And to suckle on my T-Shirt. I said T-Shirt!!
And now? There came Bob. Once again my daughter brought home another rescue from the "funny farm," even though I said NO!! When I woke up there "it" was. A very sick cat. I know the plan....call the vet. (cant take a sick cat to Humane Society or they kill it) On the way to the Vet I named him BOB, Bob Ogden as I have said in previous blog posts. And $600.00 later (the new camera I wanted) Bob is mine. The truth is, Bob is the only sane one of the bunch. (I left out the 6 lb. dog named Gracie Allen Ogden who has jealousy issues)
Problem is Bob has to live in the 2nd bedroom until he is all well so he can fight off the mental felines out here in the rest of his new apartment world. So I go sit with Bob in the morning before work, when I get home, and then in the evening for another hour. Oh, I also purchase liquid plug ins that calm cats. And they cost a lot. But then so do meds at the mental hospital. I have a mental hospital omg. And how can I give away those two little cats that have depended on me for years, so Bob, the healthy one can stay. What a dang mess. But then it could be that I have three mental human men living here I don't know what to do with. Or three mental human children. Sooo, given that being said, I am a damn lucky woman. I have a few little critters that love me. And I take care of them because that is my calling in life. Being a caretaker. (of mental cats omg) It'll all work out. Always does. So until next time, be safe, be well, be happy, and get rich so you can take good care of your crazy critters. (and yourself) And of course I am exaggerating a LITTLE.
God had to have created the latest member of my family because no one else could have. Or maybe the other guy did. That is a debate still air born and not up for discussion as I fluctuate on that issue daily. You see this cat was not chosen or planned or even thought of in my world. Yet one night it appeared not out of no where but rather out of my daughters vehicle and into my three room abode. Might I add into a family of two other cats and one dog. I was dreaming hair balls and tripping on tails. Worse yet, this cat was sick. Very sick. My daughter told me she thought the cat was having babies because there was blood near that "would be" birthing area. Turns out the vagina was not birthing kittens, rather it was a penis with a bellowing UTI! (Urinary Tract Infection) Then there was the swollen abscessed eye
that needed lancing. Paw Pads that appeared cracked like dry dirt ruts in a desert. He was a mess.
The following morning I took him to the Vet. On the way I realized he didn't have a name. Sick, dying, and no name? Bad! So I pondered it for a few minutes and then it hit me square side of the head near the brain area! Bob. Bob Benjamin Morrison Ogden it is. When the office girl asked me what his name was, I verbalized it so proudly she automatically laughed as everyone does when they hear it. Not sure why but it does ring out pretty funny to me also. I have friends in Florida who named their tiger cat Bob Sullivan. I was merely being a copycat.
Back to the sick and dying Bob. The Vets, the Vet techs, the office girls, all loved Bob Ogden. He was gentle, loving, and allowed them to lance his eye with no struggle whatsoever. He knew he needed help and accepted it wholeheartedly. He was given antibiotics, eye creme, de wormer...and truth be told I cant recall it all. Home we came where my office became his new home. But it beat the heck out of the cold barn he came from. Someone had dropped him off at the "funny farm." (Old homestead where I grew up) People are forever dropping unwanted or sick cats out there.
Bob had to stay in my office room because I didn't know what he might do to my 6lb. dog Gracie Allen dog, or to my cat Lucy Lou, or to my renter cat (daughters) LuLu. I would sit with Bob in his room as much as I could so he wasn't lonely but I know he was. He would put his paws around my face. Thanking me I am sure, not for his lonely room, but for saving his life.
I tried to get one of the Veterinarians to take Bob considering they all loved him so much, but they were up to their limit of household pets. I said, "Ah, me too Hello!" I asked my vet at what point do I become the newest "Cat Lady?" She told me not to worry, that doesn't happen until number 6. OML!
That said, "Welcome to my world of Bob Benjamin Morrison Ogden, because there is never a dull moment. Bobby is about two they say. Which means he is pubescent! Oh I forgot he had to be neutered also which has not slowed him down at all. He has chosen to come into a household of all girls! LuLu hates him. Lucy is scared of him but them she has OCD and Anxiety so she is scared of everything. Gracie Allen, the 6 lb. Chihuahua Pomeranian ignores Bob. And me, don't know if I am sold yet. Bob is a fifteen year commitment and neither a nursing home nor my truckie is a very good home for any of them... me either!! So erase erase that comment. Happy Cattails to all and to all a Happy cat night.
I have more "CatTales" coming!