<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987</id><updated>2012-02-16T05:00:17.818-05:00</updated><category term='diabetic'/><category term='feline acromegaly'/><category term='MD'/><category term='purina'/><category term='feline diabetes'/><category term='feline nutrition'/><category term='prescription diets'/><category term='cats'/><category term='Full Moon'/><category term='cat'/><category term='WD'/><category term='Virginia Beach'/><category term='kitty'/><category term='hills'/><category term='adoption'/><title type='text'>sugar babies</title><subtitle type='html'>One cat just leads to another.
 - Ernest Hemingway</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>33</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-6169664532350175158</id><published>2009-05-22T10:14:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T12:23:02.531-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Testing Leo - Kitty Mayhem and Human Madness</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/Sha2sCsy2ZI/AAAAAAAAALc/a_CX6d5syEU/s1600-h/testing+shots+019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/Sha2sCsy2ZI/AAAAAAAAALc/a_CX6d5syEU/s200/testing+shots+019.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338655276049553810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  I once wrote up a &lt;a href="http://www.felinediabetes.com/phorum5/read.php?7,1024198"&gt;story about testing Roxanne&lt;/a&gt;.  You all know Roxanne by now as a very &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;independent thinker&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.  Roxanne does not feel she needs to sit still even if I wish it.  It is embarrassing that I, a well-seasoned cat tester, still have so much trouble corralling and containing the smallest cat I've ever owned.  I would probably not have all this trouble were it not for the fact that I'm an idiot.  Right before I decide to test her, I'm usually thinking something really stupid, like, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Gosh, I've had Roxanne for a year and a half and this morning she was cuddling with me.  She probably won't mind if I just quickly put her in my lap."&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Testing Leo is nothing like testing Roxanne.  For starters, Leo thinks treats are the best thing in his entire life and will do absolutely anything I ask to get a treat.  He loves them.  He placidly sits in my lap, waits for the poke, flicks his ear to let me know I'm moving too slowly, and listens for the meter beep.  At this point he jumps off my lap while I'm still holding his ear because he's so excited that treats are coming.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ShbII3hLrfI/AAAAAAAAALs/YTN01tzf2Ok/s1600-h/miss+not+inncocent.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ShbII3hLrfI/AAAAAAAAALs/YTN01tzf2Ok/s200/miss+not+inncocent.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338674462961937906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Conspirator #1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To create a manic situation in my home, all I have to do is say, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Leo, want some treats?"&lt;/span&gt; and it begins.  Leo comes barreling through the house to get his treats and Rox and Niko assume positions surrounding him.  They each have important roles in testing Leo.  Niko is in charge of disturbing and distracting Leo by pretending he will get a treat first by pawing the bag of treats in a loud and insistent manner.  Roxanne is in charge of The Real Trouble.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This generally starts just as soon as Leo is in my lap.  I carefully balance the test strip in the meter, without starting the countdown.  I rub Leo's ear to warm it up.  Roxanne sneaks around me and steals the strip.  I never, ever notice she's done this until I hear the crunching.  *sigh* Roxanne just ate $0.34.  One-handed, I pop the strip vial open and extract another strip and try to balance the strip in the mouth of the meter.  It takes skill to do this one-handed.  I see her coming this time and push Roxanne away from the new strip, but am too slow to see her notice the lancet.  She darts in, grabs the lancet, and commences chewing on that.  Niko begins pawing the bag, wondering why it's taking so long.  Leo decides he's done with his test and gets up to leave.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ShbI8vE7jOI/AAAAAAAAAL0/-8ScjaBpLpI/s1600-h/mister+innocent.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ShbI8vE7jOI/AAAAAAAAAL0/-8ScjaBpLpI/s200/mister+innocent.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338675354049154274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Conspirator #2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so practiced at this that I can now, in one fluid motion, reseat Leo, pull the treat bag away from Niko and retrieve my lancet from a now-annoyed Roxanne.  I give her back her chewed up test strip, but it no longer holds her interest once out of the meter.  She begins to look for other things to steal by positioning herself right in front of Leo's face.  Leo, unable to breathe, starts flicking his tail, which momentarily distracts Niko from his attempts to open the treat bag.  He pounces on the tail, which might be an intruder that needs to be killed.  Leo swats, but hits Roxanne, who jumps just far enough to spot the lancet I've hidden under my leg.  Quick as a fox, she's in and out with my lancet before I could react.  I pull my backup lancet out from my shirt pocket and poke Leo's ear before further chaos intrudes.  Roxanne, happily chewing on the lancet, notices there's a second lancet and begins to stalk me.  I quickly shove the second lancet under my foot, stabbing myself in the process.  Trying not to howl in pain, I jam the strip in the meter and position the meter to draw up the tiny spot of blood my solitary poke managed to yield.  Got it! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in the early days of testing Leo, I would place the meter on the floor during the countdown and grab a paper towel to hold to Leo's ear.  Roxanne spotted the new test strip and raced to grab it.  Watching the countdown as the meter flew away from me at breakneck speed, I was prevented from catching it due to the treat-obsessed kitty in my lap.  I would have to pick him up, carry him to retrieve the meter, and begin the whole process over, causing one very sad, overly-poked kitty.  Nowadays, I'm well-trained by my cats.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For starters, I always have two meters and two vials of test strips in case the unthinkable happens.  I have unlimited lancets stored on my person.  I never, ever, staunch the flow of blood until I have a successful test with my meter in my hand.  Finally, knowing Roxanne is driven to eat things that are inappropriate for a kitty to eat, I never test Leo without wearing a shirt with pockets to hold the meter during the countdown, the backup lancets and a present for Roxanne: an empty syringe wrapper.  Oh the joy!  Roxanne's very own treat for putting up with the whole testing process.  As Leo and Niko crunch happily through their pile of freeze-dried chicken, Roxanne (who hates "healthy" treats) gets her very own loud, scrunchy toy to bat around.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We still have moments, like when Niko decides there might be treats in the testing container and knocks it over, spilling lancets, strips, meters and tissues.  Roxanne will occasionally choose the moment I poke Leo to pick a fight with Niko.  Through it all, Leo sits patiently, knowing that soon he will get delicious treats if he can just live through this one test.  &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ShbH1NvC-GI/AAAAAAAAALk/3LjHxfR0B6Q/s1600-h/the+victim.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 153px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ShbH1NvC-GI/AAAAAAAAALk/3LjHxfR0B6Q/s200/the+victim.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338674125328283746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-6169664532350175158?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/6169664532350175158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=6169664532350175158' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/6169664532350175158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/6169664532350175158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2009/05/testing-leo-kitty-mayhem-and-human.html' title='Testing Leo - Kitty Mayhem and Human Madness'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/Sha2sCsy2ZI/AAAAAAAAALc/a_CX6d5syEU/s72-c/testing+shots+019.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-45599420283773973</id><published>2009-05-16T11:30:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-16T11:34:16.749-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks PetConnection.com and Gina Spadafori!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.petconnection.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/bigstockphoto_female_veterinarian_2516821-300x200.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 200px;" src="http://www.petconnection.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/05/bigstockphoto_female_veterinarian_2516821-300x200.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure is nice to feel important today!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.petconnection.com/blog/2009/05/14/wanna-help-veterinarians-do-better-for-cat/"&gt;Help Vets Do Better for Cats&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-45599420283773973?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/45599420283773973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=45599420283773973' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/45599420283773973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/45599420283773973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2009/05/thanks-petconnectioncom-and-gina.html' title='Thanks PetConnection.com and Gina Spadafori!'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-1230239141465114566</id><published>2009-04-30T09:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T09:37:28.368-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Five Months and a Lifetime</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://s188.photobucket.com/albums/z254/onlyred/Leo/?action=view&amp;current=12608007.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i188.photobucket.com/albums/z254/onlyred/Leo/th_12608007.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" &gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;a href="http://s188.photobucket.com/albums/z254/onlyred/Leo/?action=view&amp;current=32109019-1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i188.photobucket.com/albums/z254/onlyred/Leo/th_32109019-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket" &gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Leo December 2008 - Leo April 2009&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is Leo's 5 month adoption anniversary!  Five months is a short time in the grand scheme of things, but it seems as if he's always been here.  More and more, as the days go by, I wish he had been here forever.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please wish Leo a Happy Annifursary!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-1230239141465114566?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/1230239141465114566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=1230239141465114566' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/1230239141465114566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/1230239141465114566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2009/04/five-months-and-lifetime.html' title='Five Months and a Lifetime'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i188.photobucket.com/albums/z254/onlyred/Leo/th_12608007.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-3987266486765450567</id><published>2009-04-23T10:20:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T10:49:04.944-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feline acromegaly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='WD'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hills'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='MD'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='purina'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prescription diets'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feline nutrition'/><title type='text'>Food Rage and the Veterinarian Challenge</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SfB5-FskBcI/AAAAAAAAAH0/wrotHCgPWzM/s1600-h/173076.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 90px; height: 90px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SfB5-FskBcI/AAAAAAAAAH0/wrotHCgPWzM/s200/173076.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327892466767234498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  Recently I saw a post on &lt;a href="http://www.felinediabetes.com"&gt;Feline Diabetes&lt;/a&gt; requesting proof that a high protein diet was proper for a diabetic cat.  I think it should be the other way around.  The onus should be on the pet food industry to prove to US that they are doing all they can for animal nutrition, for both sick and healthy cats and dogs.  Of course that won't happen, because they are the Goliath, and we are just stupid people.  Hence my challenge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I challenge every veterinarian who thinks Hills and Purina, Science Diet and Royal Canin are the go-to foods for sick cats to look into these diets.  What are the first five ingredients?  We all know that ingredients are listed in order of quantity, so the top 5 really count towards the health of the recipient.  Look into the claims these companies make about their foods.  While you're looking into it, don't forget that these companies are the same companies who have sickened and killed our pets, over and over again, by using sub-par ingredients, insufficient supplementation, and most recently, rat poison.  If our government has no agency in charge of making sure these claims are accurate, who should hold them accountable?  Veterinarians should hold them accountable.  You're the people who sell it to us, the people who trust you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Hills:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;While there is no cure for diabetes mellitus, veterinarians recognize it can be controlled with insulin, exercise and proper nutrition. Fiber is key in managing the disease because moderate to high-levels of fiber lower insulin requirements and blood glucose levels. Fiber also makes the body more responsive to insulin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really? How so?  What does fiber do to make a cat's body more responsive to insulin?  Before everyone gets excited, let's remember that cats are not omnivores, so the rules of human and canine diabetic management do not apply.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Purina about their DM product:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;This very high-protein and low-carbohydrate diet fits a cat's unique metabolism.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank goodness, they know what kind of diet we should feed.  Let's check out Purina DM's ingredient list.  &lt;br /&gt;Dry food:&lt;br /&gt;Poultry by-product meal &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;(JUNK)&lt;/span&gt;, soy protein isolate &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;(CARB)&lt;/span&gt;, corn gluten meal &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;(CARB)&lt;/span&gt;, soy flakes &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;(CARB)&lt;/span&gt;, animal fat preserved with mixed-tocopherols (form of Vitamin E) &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;(srsly?)&lt;/span&gt; corn starch &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;(CARB)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok that was revolting.  4 of the top 6 ingredients are carbs.. and the 5th one is preservative-filled animal fat? How can you say this is low carb?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe their wet food is better:&lt;br /&gt;Liver (organ), water, beef, corn gluten meal &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;(CARB)&lt;/span&gt;, trout, fish meal &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;(JUNK)&lt;/span&gt;, animal fat preserved with mixed-tocopherols (form of Vitamin E), wheat flour &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;(CARB)&lt;/span&gt;, soy protein isolate &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;(CARB)&lt;/span&gt;, powdered cellulose &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;(TREE)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liver should never be the primary ingredient in any cat food.  Water is the 2nd ingredient?  Even the cheapest grocery store brand doesn't do that.  Guess what cellulose is?  SAWDUST.  I don't even want to get into how they came up with adding that.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hills reports their carbohydrate values as being 18% for the dry food, and 2% for the canned food.  How can this be with so many carbohydrate ingredients in their food?  Well it can be that way because the government has no agency to force them to tell the truth.  If all those ingredients were in YOUR food, you would not eat it, so why are people being instructed to feed this to their obligate carnivores?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's take a peek at the ingredient list for Fancy Feast Gourmet Chicken Feast, a low carb, high protein food sold at every supermarket in the United States.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Chicken, Chicken broth, Liver, Meat By-products, Fish, Poultry By-products, Natural and artificial flavors, guar gum, potassium chloride, iron oxide, tricalcium phosphate, salt, vitamin supplements (E, A, D3, B12), sodium nitrate (for color retention), thiamin mononitrate (vitamin B1), ferrous sulfate, zinc sulfate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm.. why does a 50-cent can of food contain better quality ingredients than one manufactured by the very same company and sold to veterinarians to sell to people who shop in grocery stores?  You see, Fancy Feast is owned by Ralston-Purina.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... if I'm not a graduate of vet school, why is my uppity self challenging you?  I don't want to have to explain to any more vets why I am feeding my diabetic cats Fancy Feast, Wellness and Nature's Variety.  The food recall was the red flag.  "Veterinarian brands" were recalled.  My own bag of Hills WD was recalled.  A $25 bag of cat food was recalled due to sub-par ingredients containing rat poison.  Isn't that enough to tell you that these companies do not care about our animals?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some interesting links: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.catinfo.org"&gt;Dr. Lisa Pierson, DVM&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.littlebigcat.com/index.php?action=library&amp;act=show&amp;item=004"&gt;Dr. Jean Hofve, DVM&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.felinediabetes.com/hodgkinsarticle.htm"&gt;Dr. Elizabeth Hodgkins, DVM, Esq.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.catinfo.org/zorans_article.pdf"&gt;Dr. Debra Zoran, DVM, PhD, DACVIM&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-3987266486765450567?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.catinfo.org' title='Food Rage and the Veterinarian Challenge'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/3987266486765450567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=3987266486765450567' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/3987266486765450567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/3987266486765450567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2009/04/food-rage-and-veterinarian-challenge.html' title='Food Rage and the Veterinarian Challenge'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SfB5-FskBcI/AAAAAAAAAH0/wrotHCgPWzM/s72-c/173076.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-5395494324246282283</id><published>2009-04-21T09:21:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T10:20:34.026-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Talking to Braille Kitty</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/Se3WIQIDrQI/AAAAAAAAAHs/uneyE-L3zus/s1600-h/Roxanne+Sturgill-1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 143px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/Se3WIQIDrQI/AAAAAAAAAHs/uneyE-L3zus/s200/Roxanne+Sturgill-1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327149371505224962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have always prided myself on being able to talk to the animals.  I saw Dr. Doolittle when I was a kid and though I have zero recollection of the movie itself, I have practiced talking to all my animals.  Growing up on a working dairy farm gave me many animals to talk to, and talk to them I did.  I even talked to the chickens, which I thoroughly detested.  Life was rough for me, but the animals gave me a gift.  They responded to my incessant chatter with lowing moo's, offended bok-bok's and excited squeals.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this confidence in my ability to talk to the animals was blown to smithereens by one cat.  Sammie was an odd kitty, seemingly she was personality-free for a good couple of years after I adopted her.  Then one day, my then-husband went to sea, and Sammie emerged from herself.  She wanted to cuddle, and play ball, and watch TV upside down on the couch with Jesica and me.  I was stupefied.  All this talking to Sammie, and apparently I wasn't understanding what she was saying.  She didn't like the man I married!  Sammie lived a good life after that, because shortly thereafter, I disposed of the man in question.  A few years later I met Ronnie, and Sammie fell in love too.  A man she liked, well he must be perfect for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The revelation that Sammie didn't like my ex sent me back to Square One with my animal communication.  I was never blessed with the ability to communicate in other-worldly fashions, so I was forced to hire this talent out.  One of them said my cats heard me talking to them, and that they laughed at me.  I was not surprised to hear this at all.  They ACT like they are laughing at me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enter Braille Kitty.  Roxanne speaks in Clawsanteeth, an ancient language devised by devious children of Bast to communicate with their idiot owners.  I have tried to explain to Miss Roxanne that I do not need to be spoken to with such force, but it has fallen on a laughing kitty's deaf ears.  Everything she needs to get across to me is spoken using tiny sharp teeth and four sets of double-pawed claws.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have marks from head to foot from these chats I've had with Roxie.  I bear embarrassingly long ugly red welts which require turtlenecks to conceal.  Scratches which itch and burn, puncture wounds in various stages of healing in perfect kitty paw patterns and gashes which seep blood and range from my neck to my knees.  She's a tricky one, this kitty.  She wants all the attention, chatters away non-stop looking for it, and lures me in with that cute "pet me" look.  (I fall for this every time.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it's time to eat, I am notified by the biting of the toes, or the nose, if I am asleep.  When it's time for me to let her through a closed door, a sharp slash to the hand occurs.  Time to play?  Any of my flesh is fair game, especially the tender top of the foot flesh.  I am not allowed to watch TV without paying attention to her, nor spend too many minutes staring at the computer screen.  Explaining to my friends why my hands look like I was assaulted by The Slasher, which they were, is an exercise in lying.  There was the Horrible Dishwasher Incident where I was attacked by the silverware caddy.  Another day, I fell straight into a vicious rose bush!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One time I tried to make coffee before feeding her.  She reminded me that I was remiss by jumping from the floor and implanting every single claw she had deep into my derriere and both thighs, where she hung on for dear life until I detached her.  This was no easy feat, she has many claws and I did not wish to enhance the agony by allowing her to reposition herself. I am this cat's slave, and whatever she wants, I do it.  Willingly, but in fear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roxanne is now about 3 and a half years old or so, and like Sammie, coming into herself a little on the late side.  She has been with us a bit over a year now, and she has established her tiny self firmly as the alpha kitty, boss of Niko, Leo and Me.  Ronnie is a whole 'nother story.  She loves her person, none other than Ronnie, lover of dogs, ignorer of cats.  The more he ignored, the more she loved.  She has trained him now, and he talks to her as she talks to him.  He reaches down to pet her without a thought, and lets her in and out of doors as she follows him around the house.  Ronnie has never been the recipient of even a single tooth dent in his flesh.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sigh* Lost another one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-5395494324246282283?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/5395494324246282283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=5395494324246282283' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/5395494324246282283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/5395494324246282283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2009/04/talking-to-braille-kitty.html' title='Talking to Braille Kitty'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/Se3WIQIDrQI/AAAAAAAAAHs/uneyE-L3zus/s72-c/Roxanne+Sturgill-1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-6373339757070799351</id><published>2009-04-20T22:35:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-21T09:01:42.227-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feline diabetes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feline acromegaly'/><title type='text'>Sadness and the Sleep-Purr Cure</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/Se0zSEiRPFI/AAAAAAAAAHk/jaYc_O4ARdw/s1600-h/leosleep.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/Se0zSEiRPFI/AAAAAAAAAHk/jaYc_O4ARdw/s200/leosleep.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326970319797304402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  It's been awhile, hasn't it?  Leo has now been with me almost 5 months.  After his diagnosis of acromegaly, we had a flurry of vet appointments, a dental, a change of insulin, and a whole lot of mental strain.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The strain is from the fear I think, I know Leo is going to die of his condition, and I don't know from which disease first.  Will his heart fail?  Will his kidneys fail?  Will he get cancer?  It's tremendously scary, and even though I consider myself to be optimistic bordering on the ridiculous, I am also a realist.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Realists don't have a lot of fun treating diseases like this, in my experience.  Many times, we realists are trying so hard to be optimistic that we fail to see the writing on the wall until one day when it slaps you upside the head, holding a cold and slimy trout.  I remember all the hours agonizing over Oscar's numbers, and the day reality set in.  Heart failure is not an illness, it's a death sentence with a very firm deadline.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to The Present, Leo is a very healthy cat who happens to have acromegaly.  He's got all kinds of classic acro signs, like a big pot belly, which serves to make him look cute and too-well-fed.  He needs about 30 times the insulin of a "normal" diabetic cat.  He's got a giant head that he likes to push against my arm, headbutting his way into my heart.  Startlingly beautiful and wise eyes seem to stare almost into your soul, but it seems his vision is faltering.  His big snowshoe feet carry his giant body as he lumbers from comfortable sleep spot to comfortable sleep spot.  He likes to go outside at night, because bright light bothers him, and he hides under the bed if the Oceana jets are flying too much and it hurts his ears.  He eats like a starving horse, drinks like a thirsty horse and sleeps like a drunken man.  What a racket he makes with that snoring!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all the symptoms around me on a daily basis, forcing me to mind my reality, it was really hard to come to terms with the simplest truth.  One day, with the big furry boy laying next to me as I tapped away on my laptop, I heard it: Sleep-purring.  It occurred to me that Leo always purrs in his sleep when he lays next to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loud and steady, clear and true.  My baby is happy.  Does anything else matter?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-6373339757070799351?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/6373339757070799351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=6373339757070799351' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/6373339757070799351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/6373339757070799351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2009/04/sadness-and-sleep-purr-cure.html' title='Sadness and the Sleep-Purr Cure'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/Se0zSEiRPFI/AAAAAAAAAHk/jaYc_O4ARdw/s72-c/leosleep.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-2486101768284312042</id><published>2009-03-16T13:55:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T14:11:46.473-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How to Save Money *and* Treat Feline Diabetes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/Sb6UG4x5zMI/AAAAAAAAAHc/suHuY-Noerc/s1600-h/kitty+shot.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 148px; height: 128px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/Sb6UG4x5zMI/AAAAAAAAAHc/suHuY-Noerc/s400/kitty+shot.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313847456385584322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like to spend all my money on my cats, though I would if I had to.  Thankfully, diabetes can be managed fairly inexpensively.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So you have sticker shock, a $500 vet bill, a $25 bag of "special diabetic food" and a sad, sick kitty?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my list of what you can scrimp on, and what you can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Fructosamine tests and "regulating".&lt;/b&gt;  Scrimp.  You don't need to do this if you are testing blood glucose at home.  You can fax or email your testing results to your vet and he/she can work with you on dosing from there.  If your vet won't work with you, you need a new vet.  Blunt, but true.  Fructosamines are a poor substitute and very costly.  No need for in-house regulation either, because it simply can't happen.  Vet stress causes the cat's blood glucose values to remain abnormally high, and the dose will reflect the stress, rather than the actual need for insulin.  It can be dangerous, and a big waste of money.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Food.&lt;/b&gt;  You can scrimp on this.  You can return that bag of WD or MD or those cans to the vet, it has a full money back guarantee.  It's overpriced and poor quality, and that money will help you to buy what you need.  Use Janet and Binky's list &lt;a href="http://www.felinediabetes.com/diabetic-cat-diets.htm"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; to find canned foods your kitty will eat, and that you can afford.  After you get your kitty transitioned and treatment is going well, you can study the best quality foods to feed your kitty. Your kitty basically will eat 6-8oz a day in perfect condition, so you can expect anywhere from roughly $0.50/day with the cheapest food to $1.50/day for some of the premium brands.  Yes, the dry food *is* way cheaper per ounce, but if your kitty is getting sicker instead of better, how much are you really saving?  For a true slap-the-forehead moment, check out Dr. Lisa's site at &lt;a href="http://www.catinfo.org"&gt;catinfo.org&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Blood Glucose Meter.&lt;/b&gt;  You can scrimp on this, Walmart has a good meter called the ReliOn that costs $10.  Strips are $46 for 100 strips and that should keep you going for quite some time.  Yes, you will use every single one of those strips, they won't go to waste.  If you later decide you want a different meter, you're not married to the one you bought. :)  Most of us have 8-10 meters.  We get them as free samples, or just go out and buy another one to see if we like it.  We'll show you how to get them too, just watch Supply Closet. Oh yeah, and you don't need the pet meters.  Blood is blood. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Ketone strips.&lt;/b&gt;  Here's how to scrimp on this.. There are two types of urine testing strips, and a blood glucose meter that also tests for ketones.  You don't need the meter, it's not better, and the strips are expensive.  One of the types of the urine strips only tests for ketones, and the other one tests for glucose spilling into the urine as well as ketones.  You don't need to test for glucose because you've already gotten a bg meter.  Just get the strips that test for ketones.  We often refer to them as Ketostix, but that's a brand name.  I think it's perfectly alright to use a generic version if you find them, but the ketostix cost less than $15 per 50 strips.  At one strip a day max, that's pretty good.  &lt;a href="http://www.drugstore.com/products/prod.asp?pid=37671&amp;catid=10&amp;brand=10641&amp;trx=PLST-0-BRAND&amp;trxp1=10&amp;trxp2=37671&amp;trxp3=1&amp;trxp4=0&amp;btrx=BUY-PLST-0-BRAND "&gt;Ketodiastix&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Insulin.&lt;/b&gt;  Don't scrimp on this.  Thankfully, you're not married to your insulin either.  If you've got one of the less-recommended insulins, you can change to a better one when the vial runs out, or when you get some money together.  Do your research, ask around.  The petdiabetes wiki has a handy list of the insulins most commonly used/prescribed.  &lt;a href="http://petdiabetes.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page"&gt;PetDiabetes.wiki.com&lt;/a&gt;  There are ways to save money on even the most costly of them.  Nothing bad will happen to your cat during a change to another insulin and there are plenty of people here to help you transition.  It's not a lifetime commitment. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Refilling your Supplies.&lt;/b&gt;  Here's where you really start saving money.  One of our affiliates is where I buy ALL my stuff, syringes, lancets, meter, strips, even my Tylenol. :D  Follow the pink banner at the bottom of every page in the message board of FelineDiabetes.com and it will direct you to our affiliates.  Hocks.com is listed there, and if you buy using that link, you'll help the FDMB. :)  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;How to save money buying insulin. &lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First start calling around.  Get pricing on Lantus and Levemir, a they are both human insulins and NOT available through your vet.  Try any wholesale clubs you have, Sam's, BJ's or Costco.  Try all the pharmacies, including any grocery store pharmacies.  Lantus and Levemir are basically very alike in stability, duration and dosing.  Check out the very active Lantus board to see both Levemir and Lantus in action.  They are so alike in behavior that you will see both insulins on the same board.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Find out which pharmacies have discount cards, some, such as Rite-Aid have cards that can save 20%.  That's a huge savings.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Get your quotes for Lantus and Levemir as this:  "5 pack of 3mL cartridges" which are for the pens.  You will not need to buy the actual pen, only the cartridges.  You will also need to get a quote on syringes.  You want u100 syringes, and they should be 30 or 31 gauge, 3/10cc (or .3cc) and you are looking for 1/2 unit markings.  These will be difficult to find.  We often buy them online, here's where I get mine: &lt;a href="http://hocks.com/hocks-healthcare/hocks-product/A982316.html "&gt;Hocks.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The reason you are requesting the cartridges and not the vials of lantus/levemir is because they both have shortened opened shelf lives.  Lantus is somewhere in the vicinity of 28 days, Levemir is in the range of 42 days.  The vial is 100mL so that's a large amount of wasted insulin if your vial goes bad.  These cartridges, lasting +/- 1 month apiece for a total of roughly 5 months, will run you anywhere from $150-$225 so it's important you price around.  Location is a big determination of price, so if you live in a remote area, your costs could be higher.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Canada is also an option.  They have L/L available at around $150 for the 5-pack of cartridges with $10 shipping.  Here's an interesting thread for you. &lt;a href="http://www.felinediabetes.com/phorum5/read.php?17,1271337"&gt;Canadian Options&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are also FREE non-pharmacy-specific Rx prescription cards listed here: &lt;a href="http://www.felinediabetes.com/phorum5/read.php?8,1352341,1352341"&gt;Rx Card Thread&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope this helps you all to breathe a little, and know there are ways to control the spending. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must give credit where credit is truly due.  Had Janet not been hosting Frugal Feline Diabetes &lt;a href="http://www.geocities.com/jmpeerson/frugal.html"&gt;Frugal Feline Diabetes&lt;/a&gt; I am not sure what would have happened to me.  Thanks Janet, you saved my bank account. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This article assumes the reader is aware of felinediabetes.com - if not, come over and join!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-2486101768284312042?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/2486101768284312042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=2486101768284312042' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/2486101768284312042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/2486101768284312042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2009/03/how-to-save-money-and-treat-feline.html' title='How to Save Money *and* Treat Feline Diabetes'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/Sb6UG4x5zMI/AAAAAAAAAHc/suHuY-Noerc/s72-c/kitty+shot.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-5494587405549998327</id><published>2008-12-23T10:58:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-23T11:44:41.404-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sick Ward</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SVEK3ARjHwI/AAAAAAAAAHM/-sbDAOOhTP8/s1600-h/redcross.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 189px; height: 189px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SVEK3ARjHwI/AAAAAAAAAHM/-sbDAOOhTP8/s400/redcross.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283015777964990210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Leo is a happy, but sick kitty.  Niko and Roxanne have done a very charitable thing in not immediately attacking and killing the weak of their species, apparently deciding they liked Leo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am sure they regret that kindness now.  Both Niko and Roxanne acquired the upper respiratory infection that Leo has.  Poor Niko even had a skid mark on his nose from the constant mucus drip.  Roxanne had runny eyes, and blinked a lot.  Niko couldn't smell his food and Roxanne just wasn't hungry.  Since they were not hungry, I was faced with trying to medicate them in the food that they were not eating, which required trying to get them to eat their food about every two hours.  Thank goodness I got laid off or they might never have gotten better!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wake up, trip over kitties all the way to the kitchen, test Leo. &lt;br /&gt;Give Leo treats, give Roxanne and Niko treats for "helping".  &lt;br /&gt;Recover licked and discarded treats and give them to Leo.  &lt;br /&gt;Crush L-Lysine for all 3 kitties.  &lt;br /&gt;Crush Methyl B12 for Leo.  &lt;br /&gt;Pill pocket some pain meds for Leo.  &lt;br /&gt;Feed Leo so he won't eat their food.  &lt;br /&gt;Diligently work to hide L-Lysine in 1 tablespoon Niko and Roxie's food.&lt;br /&gt;Feed them. &lt;br /&gt;Remove Leo from their food and give Leo more of his own food.&lt;br /&gt;Fetch Lantus from fridge, draw it up, shoot Leo.&lt;br /&gt;Remind Roxie and Niko they have fresh food.&lt;br /&gt;Remove Leo from Roxie and Niko's food and put him back in front of his own dish.&lt;br /&gt;Put Friskies Turkey Cheese and Delicious gravy on my finger to entice Roxie and Niko, but accidentally entice Leo.&lt;br /&gt;Put Leo back in front of his own dish.&lt;br /&gt;Give up feeding Roxanne and Niko, put dishes on counter, just in case they get hungry again in 5 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;Bait Leo with promise of more treats.&lt;br /&gt;Clean Leo's ears with Q-Tips, much to his extreme displeasure.&lt;br /&gt;Put Triotic cream in his ear canal, much to his extreme displeasure.&lt;br /&gt;Rub cream on the outside of his ears to kill whatever parasite is there.&lt;br /&gt;Give the now mortally offended Leo more treats.&lt;br /&gt;Give Roxie and Niko treats for "helping".&lt;br /&gt;Recover licked and discarded treats and give them to Leo. &lt;br /&gt;Wash hands, scrub like a demon has possessed me.&lt;br /&gt;Sit down.&lt;br /&gt;Stand up, back to kitchen, forgot to make the coffee.&lt;br /&gt;Sit down.&lt;br /&gt;Stand up, forgot to freshen the water bowls.&lt;br /&gt;Clean 3 litterboxes.&lt;br /&gt;Wash hands like a doctor prepping for surgery.&lt;br /&gt;Make cup of coffee, sit down.&lt;br /&gt;Spend 30 minutes looking for a job online, tweak resume for 4000th time.&lt;br /&gt;Become aware that I am being watched, look up to see Rox and Niko in their Starvation Pose.&lt;br /&gt;Go to kitchen, give them food from earlier, which they promptly classify as disgusting.&lt;br /&gt;Crush L-Lysine for both kitties.  &lt;br /&gt;Feed Leo so he won't eat their food.  &lt;br /&gt;Diligently work to hide L-Lysine in 1 tablespoon Niko and Roxie's food.&lt;br /&gt;Feed them. &lt;br /&gt;Remove Leo from their food and give Leo more of his own food.&lt;br /&gt;Remind Roxie and Niko they have fresh food.&lt;br /&gt;Remove Leo from Roxie and Niko's food and put him back in front of his own dish.&lt;br /&gt;Put Friskies Turkey Cheese and Delicious gravy on my finger to entice Roxie and Niko, but accidentally entice Leo.&lt;br /&gt;Put Leo back in front of his own dish.&lt;br /&gt;Give up feeding Roxanne and Niko, put dishes on counter, just in case they get hungry again in 5 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;Sit down.&lt;br /&gt;I look at the clock, I've been up two hours, and I'm completely worn out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see the pattern.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This went on ALL DAY for FOUR days!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night Niko decided he was hungry again.  He ate and ate and ate.  At 3am I was sitting on the kitchen floor so he could eat without Leo eating his food.  It was slow going because Niko had to delicately reach into his bowl, hook one morsel with a claw and lick it off.  And lick, and lick.  As tired as I was, I was so relieved to see him eating that I did not care that my butt was numb. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I have two insane maniacs in my house trying to make up for 4 days of lethargy and inactivity.  There is racing, crashing, slamming, howling, hissing, spitting, more crashing, and growling going on, with occasional breaks for mutual bathing.  Non stop.  Leo is laid out in the living room watching them in bemusement, and only the teensiest concern that he might get trampled.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YAY my kitties are back!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-5494587405549998327?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/5494587405549998327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=5494587405549998327' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/5494587405549998327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/5494587405549998327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/sick-ward.html' title='The Sick Ward'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SVEK3ARjHwI/AAAAAAAAAHM/-sbDAOOhTP8/s72-c/redcross.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-4020931240674676280</id><published>2008-12-22T09:04:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-22T09:51:35.629-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Friends Are For</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SU-e962PMsI/AAAAAAAAAHE/YvzkzcUHuKE/s1600-h/sabrina.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SU-e962PMsI/AAAAAAAAAHE/YvzkzcUHuKE/s200/sabrina.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5282615674534834882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ever have a really good friend that you can call any time of the day or night and talk about absolutely nothing with?  A friend so good that nothing is too crazy, too gross, too taboo?  Mine is Jenn.  I met Jenn on FDMB, and we have one of those friendships that you think "When I meet this person, we probably won't have a thing in common" but then you meet and you find out they are as much a whackjob as you are. We are serial friends.  Not only are we good friends, but we make friends with people we deem likable.  Unfortunately for these people, they are destined to become our friends for life.  People like Sandy, Tammy, Dawn, Andrea, the list goes on and on.. they are inescapably caught up in our vortex of friendship.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jenn is the nice one.  I am the not quite as nice one.  We patrol the board looking for people who've been ignored, or who are in trouble.  If I have to leave, Jenn is in charge.  If Jenn has to leave, I am in charge.  We will get on the phone and call each other from wherever we are.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Did you check on Sue and Fluffy on Health? Last I saw she hadn't said if she was ketone testing."  &lt;br /&gt;"Yeah she came back, I taught her how to ketone test, she's at the pharmacy buying ketostix right now" &lt;br /&gt;"Good job Crusader"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our friendship is so ridiculously funny that we often read each other our posts before posting them, and if we don't have the time to get the other one's opinion, we will harangue the crap out of each other after putting them up.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"Did you check my post to whatsherface about ketones yet??" &lt;br /&gt;"No I had to pee" &lt;br /&gt;"WELL FOR CRYING OUT LOUD"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm sorry, I didn't want to wet my pants..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jenn has the cat from hell, Sabrina.  Sabrina isn't really from hell, of course.  She's a beautiful collage of soft multicolored fur and preciousness, with a tiny attitude.  Not a deal-breaker attitude, just a fine sense of herself, as all cats should have.  Sabrina doesn't do anything Jenn wants her to do and will notify Jenn of her displeasure by whining.  Sabrina refuses to eat wet food, so Jenn is forced to feed the lowest carb dry food she can find, Evo.  This causes the worst smell imaginable in the litter box.  Evo poop is renowned as the worst smell in history.  Jenn not only has learned to live with this, but cherishes every moment with Sabrina, except for the whining.  Jenn doesn't cherish that.  Sabrina is truly the love of Jenn's life, and a better cat for Jenn, I can't imagine.  A better human for Sabrina - there isn't one.  Sabrina has been diabetic for over two years, and is a DKA survivor.  She hasn't done anything normal since diagnosis.  She's been a tough case and Jenn has busted her butt for Sabrina, which is just as it should be in Sabrina's mind.  Jenn is always singing my praises when it comes to treating diabetics, but I am certain I would not be able to do the things I do if I had a Sabrina.  Jenn is a superb caregiver.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning Jenn called me and warned me about the weather.  Jenn, being such a good friend to me, lives in New Jersey, but checks my weather before I go outside.  Some people might think this is stalker-ish behavior.  I think it's very caring of her.  Well, maybe slightly stalker-ish, but still genuinely caring.  This morning's phone call went like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;"I was thinking about you when I went outside this morning, it's quite nipply outside"&lt;br /&gt;"Oh you think of me when you think of nipples?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our phone conversation trailed on until I heard "Sabrina did you do something bad in your litterbox?".  Of course she did.  It's 7 degrees in New Jersey, and now Jenn is trapped in her house with a smirking cat and a steaming pile in the litterbox.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HAHAHAHAHAHAHA Now that's friendship.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-4020931240674676280?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/4020931240674676280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=4020931240674676280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/4020931240674676280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/4020931240674676280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/what-friends-are-for.html' title='What Friends Are For'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SU-e962PMsI/AAAAAAAAAHE/YvzkzcUHuKE/s72-c/sabrina.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-1951173585348208108</id><published>2008-12-20T14:09:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T20:06:38.996-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Finished My Resume!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SU1DAaAVSrI/AAAAAAAAAG4/b5-L0oFU4q0/s1600-h/interview.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 190px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SU1DAaAVSrI/AAAAAAAAAG4/b5-L0oFU4q0/s200/interview.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281951612235238066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok I know I've been gone all week, but I've been real busy working on my resume.  I haven't done one of these in a long time, so I had to brush up on some of my skills and achievements.  Please review this and please be gentle!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;Carolyn E Sturgill&lt;br /&gt;3 Kitty Way Virginia Beach VA 12345&lt;br /&gt;(757) 867-5309&lt;br /&gt;mycatzrule@gmail.com&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a devoted hard working professional, I will treat all employees and business associates with equality and deference, as learned from my cats.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work History&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Some Company&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chesapeake VA&lt;br /&gt;Through 12/2008&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Worked my ass off, got nothing other than a vacation denial and laid off. Never requested a raise, always showed up for work, often at the expense of my kitties and their love for me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November 2008 - Present&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Balanced testing and shooting Leo with feeding Leo, petting Leo, carrying Leo back and forth to the vet, scratching Leo, treating Leo for several ailments and parasites, running to the petstore for yet more food for Leo, and cuddling Leo.  During this time, I balanced my work for Leo with a full time job at some company doing stuff that really was pretty boring, but I still did it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Roxanne&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;February 2008 - Present&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spend much of my time with Roxanne attempting to cajole her hunger genes and lessen her starvation.  My job includes not touching her feet, her ears or anything she doesn't want touched, while simultaneously rubbing her belly, scritching in front of her tail, rubbing her ears and scratching her lips.  I have gained advanced pain skills while in the employ of Roxanne which have allowed me to be bitten and scratched while showing no outward appearance of noticing any infliction of pain.  During Roxanne's employ, I have maintained employment with Niko, Leo and some company doing stuff that was really boring, but I still did it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Niko&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;December 2007 - Present&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sacrificed a $3.99 betta fish, many plants and indoor trees, and countless floral arrangements for the enjoyment of Niko.  Subcontracted with animal communicators to work with Niko and his small temperament issues with the other cats.  During employment with Niko, I have maintained employment with Roxanne, Leo, Oscar, Spot, the aforementioned deceased betta fish and some company doing stuff that was really boring, but I still did it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;References and further employment history available upon request.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-1951173585348208108?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/1951173585348208108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=1951173585348208108' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/1951173585348208108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/1951173585348208108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/finished-my-resume.html' title='Finished My Resume!!'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SU1DAaAVSrI/AAAAAAAAAG4/b5-L0oFU4q0/s72-c/interview.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-9213556117555549497</id><published>2008-12-15T06:39:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-15T08:38:23.345-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Contemplation - Bugs vs Money</title><content type='html'>I couldn't type this weekend.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was laid off.  Me.  Seems strange still to say it even though I've had since Friday to let it sink in.  I wasn't the only one, wasn't the first one, and probably won't be the last one.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm left to decide a lot of things.  Mostly if I want to work at Hardee's because they are hiring.  I really don't.  I'm not one for smelling a lot of grease, and I can't stand bugs.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;ugh&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  I guess I could get a can of Raid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have three starving little kitties to feed.  Two of them have perfected the Guilt Trip to a World Class level.  One of them can tell time, and the other can knock every item off every surface in the house, timed every 5 minutes until I suddenly remember that it's time to feed them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to find a job, though there's nothing better I can imagine than hanging out on the couch surrounded by my little starving children.  Nothing at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just had a great thought - If I go work at Hardee's, &lt;a href="http://icanhascheezburger.com/"&gt;my kittehs can has cheezburgerz&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-9213556117555549497?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/9213556117555549497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=9213556117555549497' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/9213556117555549497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/9213556117555549497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/weighing-idea-of-bugs-vs-money.html' title='Contemplation - Bugs vs Money'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-2416848375374113189</id><published>2008-12-12T09:27:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T10:59:26.671-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Goose is Getting Fat</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SUJ5zEcZQeI/AAAAAAAAAGY/hs2BvU4Ne_U/s1600-h/poinsettia-silk-arrangement1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 186px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SUJ5zEcZQeI/AAAAAAAAAGY/hs2BvU4Ne_U/s200/poinsettia-silk-arrangement1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278915631504769506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat&lt;br /&gt;Please to put a penny in the old man's hat,&lt;br /&gt;If you haven't got a penny, a &lt;a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/ha%27penny"&gt;ha'penny&lt;/a&gt; will do, &lt;br /&gt;If you haven't got a ha'penny, then God Bless You!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my earliest memorized songs from Christmas, don't even remember where I learned that one.  My co-mingling memories of childhood Christmas' center around recorder versions of Jingle Bells, Frosty melting and the Muppets arguing their way through the holidays.  Ever eaten goose?  Me either.  I'm cool with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day, Roxanne's foster mom, &lt;a href="http://kittyblog.net/"&gt;Connie&lt;/a&gt;, put up a post about her Christmas tree.  Last year I didn't even put a tree up, Oscar and Spot were sick and I just didn't have the energy with all the pee-mopping and floor scrubbing to put together a tree.  This year I'd *like* to put a tree up but UGH.  Everything is in the outside closet, with everything else stacked on top of it.  I have literally hundreds of carefully collected ornaments, each special, each hand-chosen.  Lots of sparkly, bright, beautiful reminders of the years Jesica and I shopped for them.  If I had not bought the tree that already had lights on it, it would take me two days to fully dress my tree.  Now it only takes one day.. only.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, Connie posted her fabulous idea - cat toys!  At first I was like.. yeah, right.  Then I saw the tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SUJ8ObYcpKI/AAAAAAAAAGg/yQXsXSnWuMc/s1600-h/2008_1210Image0003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SUJ8ObYcpKI/AAAAAAAAAGg/yQXsXSnWuMc/s400/2008_1210Image0003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278918300541953186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't that the coolest?  It looks pretty, AND it's cat-proof!  And who doesn't have 30,435,017 cat toys covering every flat surface in their home?  Note the "Christmas decor box" that stores all the toys perched on the chair.  What a wonderfully warm holiday scene, with the cats celebrating Christmas by helping to (un)decorate the tree.  Great family Connie, and great tree!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll keep y'all up to date if I decide to go this route.  I ran it past Ronnie.  He just blinked.. Y'all know he's a blinker, right?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-2416848375374113189?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/2416848375374113189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=2416848375374113189' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/2416848375374113189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/2416848375374113189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/goose-is-getting-fat.html' title='The Goose is Getting Fat'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SUJ5zEcZQeI/AAAAAAAAAGY/hs2BvU4Ne_U/s72-c/poinsettia-silk-arrangement1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-1835161932776979774</id><published>2008-12-11T07:48:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T09:12:42.227-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Clear! Heart Failure by Cat(s)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SUEMkKiyOwI/AAAAAAAAAGI/b3wDgE1qnlY/s1600-h/resisitation_paddles_man.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 120px; height: 121px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SUEMkKiyOwI/AAAAAAAAAGI/b3wDgE1qnlY/s400/resisitation_paddles_man.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278514053700008706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Remember the other day when I said kitties do all kinds of wacky stuff on the full moon?  Today is the day of the night of the full moon.  The moon is currently 98% of full.  My cats know this and they started telling me about it at 3am, but I did not start listening until 5am when my alarm went off.  My alarm is a 10 pound ball of black fur with razor sharp teeth, bad breath and 10 claws on every foot.  I call my alarm "Roxanne".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Roxanne, not the most cuddly creature in the world, is nonetheless guided by extreme starvation genes which sometimes encourage cuddly behavior as a means to an end.  I, the designated feeder, am notified instantly when one of those genes pops up in her brain.  I am cuddled with, breathed on, bitten, kneaded, nose-picked, and have my windpipe crushed while attempting to remain in REM sleep.  Sadly, Roxanne can tell time and she knows 5am means EAT FUD!, her most favorite thing.  This morning was no exception to Roxanne's skills as a time-knower, except that the persistence level was cranked up to max.  I now sport a 2 inch long scratch on my ear, and a puncture wound on my nose as memories of when I did not get up fast enough.  I also have fur in my contacts as reminders of her aborted attempts to cuddle her sleeping provider.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get up and stumble and fall over the starving kitties into the kitchen.  I know in my haze that Niko has set Roxanne up to be extra diligent in waking me up, no matter how innocent he may look.  I also know Roxanne does not need any encouragement in that arena.  I start the coffee, and trip over the starving kitties all the way to their food container.  Feeding the kitties is a trial of patience and balance, but I manage to get it accomplished with no significant injuries to them and only a twisted knee on my part.  Off to fetch Leo, who's waiting impatiently on the other side of Jesica's door, where he's been indulged in an ultra-humidified sleeping chamber.  Leo, poor baby, has a cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I yell to wake Jesica up, and notice Ronnie stumbling to the bathroom.  The time is now 5:18.  What happened to the time?!  Leo's cold does not prevent him from inhaling 3 medallions of raw food in 21 seconds, so I frantically prepare his rice sock for ear warming and meter for testing before he can finish and raid Roxanne and Niko's now-abandoned dishes.  I grab the &lt;a href="http://hocks.com/hocks-healthcare/hocks-product/MAXKIT.html"&gt;new meter&lt;/a&gt; (it's sparkly!) and the new strips (how do you get a single strip out of that canister without playing 98 pick up?) and the ever-present &lt;a href="http://www.muttropolis.com/prodimages/alt_images/vitakitty2.jpg"&gt;delicious treats&lt;/a&gt; (fabulous bribery). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I test Leo. 493. Uh..? No way, he's too happy to be 493, I'll retest.  Jesica comes out to the kitchen, still asleep, and tries to help.  She wants to recalibrate the meter.  I say "give me the meter, the cat's bleeding!" Things tend to become frantic when your squirming cat is not interested waiting more than 0.0008 seconds for treats, and blood is tickling his ear.  She stalks off to get ready and we test Leo again.  528.  O h. M y. G o d.  I broke my cat again!  I give him his insulin, feed him again and head to the refrigerator to get his antibiotic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ronnie exits the bathroom, Jesica runs into the bathroom to grab a hair band and says "hey what happened to the fish?".  Oh no.  Not again.  In our home, "what happened to the fish?" means Niko did something to the fish.  The fish is my work fish that I brought home so he wouldn't die at work while I was on vacation.  Fitting that he should die at home, where I brought him for his safety.  Neon fish stones coat the floor, the bathtub, the toilet and the sink.  Fortunately fish was safely ensconced in the 3/4" water that remained in the tank so I cleaned up the bathroom as best as I could and made quick plans to transport him back to the office as soon as I finished getting ready for work.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The time is now 5:48.  What happened to the time?! Ronnie heads out the door, followed closely by Jesica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I run back out of the bathroom, clean 3 litterboxes and spend several minutes trying to figure out the automatic feeder so Leo doesn't starve to death today. I'm struck by the thought that it's a very bad idea to try to figure out anything more complicated than a flat iron at this hour of the morning, and scoop 6 oz of Wellness into a bowl, saying a quick prayer that this holds him for a few hours.  I decide to test him again with the old meter just in case.  467.  I'm not sure why I'm relieved by 467, but I don't have time to think about it. I now feel like I'm forgetting something but the time is 6:14.  What happened to the time?!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I jump in the shower, jump back out of the shower and get dressed.  The time is now 6:19.  Now that's more like it.  I still feel like I'm forgetting something but I'm on a roll.  I grab the fish and head out to the kitchen to make my to-go coffee.  I run back into the bathroom to brush my teeth.  I grab my phone, my bluetooth, my vitamin water, a bag of Cheez-Its, my keys, my fish, my fish supplies, the catnip banana I'm sending Jenn, my purse, my phone charger and notice I'm being followed by all 3 cats.  What did I forget?  Quick check of the water bowl, everything's good.  I say bye to the babies and run out the door, down three flights of stairs and to my truck, jump in and see the time is now 6:32. Only 5 minutes late, but now it's raining and Virginians can not drive in the rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm passing my first accident when I remember what I forgot: Leo's antibiotic, thanks to Niko's fish homicide attempt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so it continues.. diabetic cat mom with half a brain cell on full alert and the other half asleep at the wheel.  I'm not sure I'm qualified to handle another 18 hours of the Full Moon Day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-1835161932776979774?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/1835161932776979774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=1835161932776979774' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/1835161932776979774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/1835161932776979774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/clear-heart-failure-by-cats.html' title='Clear! Heart Failure by Cat(s)'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SUEMkKiyOwI/AAAAAAAAAGI/b3wDgE1qnlY/s72-c/resisitation_paddles_man.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-3973644079767232479</id><published>2008-12-10T07:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T07:50:40.703-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Death.</title><content type='html'>I don't talk about this much.  I really can't.  I'm overly-empathetic, much like many of our board members.  Lately there's been a flurry of GA's on FDMB.  It does seem to happen in cycles there.  Weeks will go by and then suddenly five or six cats die in two days.  It's so hard because you want to give each Cat Mama or Cat Daddy a unique and personal message of hope and consolation, but to have so many die at the same time takes a lot out of a person.  As a person who has lost three cats in two years, and two within two months, I should be capable of sending a strong message: &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Life will restart, I promise.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I disappear for weeks because it blows me away.  Guilt for the people I have not posted to, I try to make it up to them, but I can't.  Every time I look at the board and see a cat has passed, it brings it all back.  I am not "over" the deaths of my boys, and I'm barely able to think about Sammie, now two years gone.  I have new cats now, beautiful souls, and I love them very much.  As much as Sammie, Spot and Oscar?  Not yet, but my heart is trying to heal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The fact that I love them at all says something about the resiliency of the human heart.  Many people have wondered how I could stand to take in more cats after the deaths of my beloveds.  To be brutally honest, I have always known that my cats would live less than 20 years and that knowledge, combined with the knowledge that many more cats are in need of a loving home, allows me to stumble past my loss and not be crippled by it.  That knowledge does not prevent my being prone to waves of grief when I think about my lost babies.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have awful sorrow.  Guilt, as all diabetic cat moms are prone. Pain, sometimes terrible pain.  I want to hold my lost babies one more time and tell them I really tried and I really miss them and I'm really sorry their lives were marred by diabetes, cancer, heart issues, ear pain, and spondylosis.  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I'm so sorry, my babies, that I was stupid.  I'm so sorry I contributed to your pain.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Never again.  I will do everything I can to improve the lives of other cats in Your Names.  Sammie, Spot, Oscar.. Niko, Roxanne and Leo will all live better loves because of you and what you meant to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now you know. I grieve, but I love. I am smiling through my tears.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-3973644079767232479?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/3973644079767232479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=3973644079767232479' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/3973644079767232479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/3973644079767232479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/death.html' title='Death.'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-3838933995446445366</id><published>2008-12-09T09:11:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T09:53:40.692-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Joy That is Leo</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ST5852fdnUI/AAAAAAAAAF4/1ocNgmYKEqc/s1600-h/12808002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ST5852fdnUI/AAAAAAAAAF4/1ocNgmYKEqc/s200/12808002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277793146646666562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We took Leo to the vet last night, and bad, good, great and wonderful things happened.  It was a very relieving, yet worrisome visit.  &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made an appointment with my very favorite vet, Dr. T, and was anxious to find out how he was doing after one week with me.  I was also really worried, Leo's been coughing and doing this air-gasp thing so I was hoping and praying it wasn't anything serious, but as a pet lover with a past, was absolutely certain it meant he was dying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ST6AUhjm5OI/AAAAAAAAAGA/WdfCzJZPTI0/s1600-h/f195f40b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ST6AUhjm5OI/AAAAAAAAAGA/WdfCzJZPTI0/s200/f195f40b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277796903418258658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; So we test and shoot him before we leave, and pulled out the cat carrier.  Leo took one look and walked away as quickly as he could hobble, Niko climbed in it and Roxanne decided to nap on it.  This is a common practice in our household.  If there is a box shaped object, Niko must be in it, and Roxanne is always aiming to be on top.  (She is a bit of a tramp.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We evicted Niko and Roxie from their new toy and tried to coax Leo into the carrier.  No go.  I tried to direct him into the carrier using my hands.  No go.  I picked him up and tried to place him in the carrier.  His panic was pretty clear - he's terrified of the carrier.  So we got a harness with a leash and carried him to the car.  He was happy as a clam in the backseat - until I hit a pothole and woke him up.  The further I drove, the more I worried.  This practice sees dogs and cats, and there's always a bunch of dogs in the waiting room.  I consider putting him in the transport crate that is STILL in my car from 9 months ago.  We decided to play it by ear.  No reason to worry - Leo spent the whole time waiting to be called back laid out on the admission counter sucking up lovin's and attention from the admitting girls.  He was well on his way to being stolen by them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went back to see Dr. T and she learned his story, listened attentively (this is why I love Dr. T) and suggested an xray.  She weighed him and found him up to 10.5 lbs.  And he's so bony it hurts your eyes.. imagine what he's supposed to weigh!  We decided we would go back in a couple weeks to follow-up with a second round of bloodwork.  There was a scary moment for the vet tech when Leo panicked during xray, but all went really well.  Dr. T examined the xray and pronounced him clear of asthma, masses or fluid where it shouldn't be.  She thought his heart was slightly enlarged, and said there was a mild murmur, so now we have a heart kitty. I was not thrilled about that, but it's still early days for our young Leo.. who she thinks is 10 or 11 years old.  She decided he might well have a respiratory virus and gave us some things to do for him.  All in all, I am very relieved, and I'm sure there are a bunch of Leo followers who feel the same way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Niko.. not so happy.  When we came home, his facial expression very clearly said, "Why did you bring &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;him&lt;/span&gt; back?!"  And life goes on..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ST580gVG8JI/AAAAAAAAAFw/o87IImhlS5A/s1600-h/12808001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:center; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ST580gVG8JI/AAAAAAAAAFw/o87IImhlS5A/s200/12808001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277793054798311570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-3838933995446445366?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/3838933995446445366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=3838933995446445366' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/3838933995446445366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/3838933995446445366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/joy-that-is-leo.html' title='The Joy That is Leo'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ST5852fdnUI/AAAAAAAAAF4/1ocNgmYKEqc/s72-c/12808002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-6152012613759981941</id><published>2008-12-08T09:09:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T09:38:57.145-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feline diabetes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cats'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Full Moon'/><title type='text'>The Full Moon, and What It Can Do For You</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ST0vy7hrLUI/AAAAAAAAAFo/6KXCLOKoi7s/s1600-h/full_moon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 147px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ST0vy7hrLUI/AAAAAAAAAFo/6KXCLOKoi7s/s200/full_moon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277426890366987586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;You may have noticed I keep a full moon gadget on my blog.  I do this because I now track the full moon very closely.  Why?  Because the Full Moon is just another thing that drives us diabetic cat moms crazy, of course!  Leo threw a really high number this morning, and looked so sad.  I hope it's just temporary, and pray it's not the &lt;a href="http://www.dailygalaxy.com/my_weblog/2007/08/does-a-full-moo.html"&gt;full moon&lt;/a&gt;, which is still 4 days away.  What does the full moon do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you have a cat in your home, you've probably already noticed without realizing it.  Cats seem very sensitive to the lunar cycles, and behavioral changes are rampant.  One vet tech told me that it seems most prevalent in white or light color cats, but any cat can be affected.  For those of us with diabetic cats, we can see many changes generally beginning 1-2 or more days before the Full Moon.  Some cats numbers track up, some jump up.  Some cats suddenly start having good numbers, only to climb steeply on the day after the Full Moon.  Some cats climb the drapes and only come down if you walk by and they feel inclined to scalp you.  Other cats hover at the door howling until your neighbors threaten to kill you and your foghorn.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have compiled a list of tips to help you and your precious diabetic babies through the Full Moon in one piece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Remove all glass articles from the testing area so when you throw your meter, nothing breaks. Also remove knives, guns and pins you might be prompted to stab your eyes out with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Pick up your straight jacket from the cleaners and leave it on the couch for any emergency usage that might transpire. Try it on when you get home to make sure the cleaners didn't shrink it. (Lesson learned the hard way.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Velcro any dogs in your home to the ceiling and duct tape their lips shut. To create a quick but genius toy for the cats, simply tie a string around the dog's tail and affix feathers to the end of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Have your neighbor come over and draw up insulin so when you see that 987 you are *not* inclined to shoot 70 units.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Place a courtesy call to the neighborhood police or sheriff's office and let them know some loud or strange noises might be coming from your home and that it would be nice if they placed a funny-farm ambulance on standby for you. Have a neighbor on alert to pet-sit, just in case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Have a talk with your cats. Discuss evening rules, and how the neighbors will *not* be impressed with howling and screeching. Discuss with them possible ramifications of trying to trip (or in Dan's case, bodyslam) the human will result in an unfortunate trip to the hospital whereupon the cats might starve to death in the 5 hour interim before your return.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Take a handful of Tylenol around 5PM. Not alot, maybe 9 or 10. If no Tylenol is available, 9 or 10 Paxil will work slow the onset of any headaches occurring from the CAT-erwauling and BG chaos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. As midnight approaches, lock yourself in your bedroom. This is NOT a good time to test BG!! If necessary, use duct tape around the edges of the door to seal out the sounds of your meter calling your name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope these tips will help you survive the full moon tonight. If any other members have handy tips, please affix them to this post so we may collect them for future generations.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-6152012613759981941?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/6152012613759981941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=6152012613759981941' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/6152012613759981941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/6152012613759981941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/full-moon-and-what-it-can-do-for-you.html' title='The Full Moon, and What It Can Do For You'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/ST0vy7hrLUI/AAAAAAAAAFo/6KXCLOKoi7s/s72-c/full_moon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-159650619732605589</id><published>2008-12-08T08:48:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T08:48:26.845-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Leo's progression so far</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="width:480px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://w188.photobucket.com/pbwidget.swf?pbwurl=http://w188.photobucket.com/albums/z254/onlyred/Leo/dd0a039e.pbw" height="360" width="480"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/slideshows" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/slideshows/btn.gif" style="float:left;border-width: 0;" &gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://s188.photobucket.com/albums/z254/onlyred/Leo/?action=view&amp;current=dd0a039e.pbw" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/slideshows/btn_viewallimages.gif" style="float:left;border-width: 0;" &gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-159650619732605589?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/159650619732605589/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=159650619732605589' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/159650619732605589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/159650619732605589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/leo-progression-so-far.html' title='Leo&amp;#39;s progression so far'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-2665643083157741633</id><published>2008-12-07T09:49:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T10:50:40.614-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fud!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://icanhascheezburger.com/2008/03/31/funny-pictures-i-need-it-to-live/"&gt;&lt;img src="http://icanhascheezburger.wordpress.com/files/2008/03/funny-pictures-cat-empty-food-bowls.jpg" style="word-spacing:797058px;font-size:797058px;" alt="Humorous Pictures" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my house, food is dispensed freely.  My little piglets eat three times a day and are very clock-oriented.  Food begging begins approximately 1 hour and 56 minutes before the designated food times.  If I am to get up to do anything in my house, my furry magnets are racing behind me, meowing happily.  This dramatic display of starvation is only outdone by the tragic expressions on their faces when they realize that I have deemed it Not Time To Eat.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This food requires a bit of work because we &lt;a href="http://www.catinfo.org"&gt;do not feed dry cat food&lt;/a&gt;.  My cats work very hard to make sure that I spend the majority of my life thinking about cat food.  One favorite tactic my cats employ is &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;This Food That I Used To Love Now Sucks&lt;/span&gt;.  Of course I have fostered this behavior by immediately running to the nearest pet store to get them something they might like better.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To date, I have a very lengthy and comprehensive list of things my cats don't like, which has caused quite a problem now that we have Leo in the house.  As a rule, my cats don't like healthy food.  The fewer additives, the less they like it.  This makes my life fairly easy between mind-changes about what food they like, because all premium brands have been ruled out by The Picky Ones.  That means anything else that costs more than $0.50 a can is off the shopping list.  If it has gravy in it, they love it even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enter Leo.  Leo likes everything.  He will eat any food they hate, he will eat things that are not food, and he will eat their food.  Leo's primary diet consists of Wellness grain-free ($2) and Evo ($2).  These two brands are at the top of the Hate That Food List, but Niko and Roxanne are now concerned.  Leo gets to eat more than they do, and he does so with gusto.  He is an eating machine.  Even though Rox and Niko still have food on their plates, it does not seem fair to them that Leo gets More Food Than They Do.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started with Niko.. he would wait until Leo was almost done with his food and then go over and sniff the remnants.  Then he'd daintily lick it, before shaking his head and walking away.  "Disgusting!", he'd pronounce to Roxanne.  Roxanne did not view this attempt to fall on the sword of disgusting food as anything heroic and would go over to investigate herself.  She'd settle in, wrap her tail around her legs and commence licking all the little flecks of food off Leo's plate.  Periodically she'd shake her head, letting Niko know he was right, it &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;was&lt;/span&gt; disgusting.  In due time, Rox and Niko started trying to convince me that they too loved Wellness and Evo.  Their beloved Friskies Turkey and Cheese with Gravy sat untouched as they stared Leo down until they could get his Wellness crumbs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leo eats around 2.5 large cans a day because he is literally starving.  With this diet and quantity of food comes an equal quantity of the previously-discussed poops.  These poops are pretty uncomfortable for him, he grunts and groans in the litterbox and he's going 3 times a day.  This is a vast number of visits to the litterbox for a cat on wet food.  I decided it was time to switch Leo to an even higher-protein food that might possibly lessen the strain of his overworked digestive tract.  Raw food is that food.  To Niko and Roxanne, raw food is the work of the devil himself.  They were mortally offended the day I tried to feed it to them and no amount of speeches about how they would eat it in the wild would sway them.  I thought maybe this was the food that would convince them to stop staring down Leo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wrong again. Fortunately Leo has no idea he's being stared-down because he never lifts his head to even breathe while he's eating.  As soon as I post this, I'll be off to the pet store to spend another $50 buying food my 3 cats may or may not like, and stocking up on raw food, just in case Rox and Niko decide they like that better than Turkey and Cheese with Delicious Gravy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-2665643083157741633?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/2665643083157741633/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=2665643083157741633' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/2665643083157741633'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/2665643083157741633'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/fud.html' title='Fud!'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-5700996714148484496</id><published>2008-12-06T10:02:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T10:02:30.862-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Leo - Not so good with the flashy thingy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="width:480px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://w188.photobucket.com/pbwidget.swf?pbwurl=http://w188.photobucket.com/albums/z254/onlyred/Leo/cc51fef7.pbw" height="360" width="480"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/slideshows" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/slideshows/btn.gif" style="float:left;border-width: 0;" &gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://s188.photobucket.com/albums/z254/onlyred/Leo/?action=view&amp;current=cc51fef7.pbw" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/slideshows/btn_viewallimages.gif" style="float:left;border-width: 0;" &gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-5700996714148484496?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/5700996714148484496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=5700996714148484496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/5700996714148484496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/5700996714148484496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/leo-not-so-good-with-flashy-thingy.html' title='Leo - Not so good with the flashy thingy'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-3748429860793471139</id><published>2008-12-05T07:30:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T11:25:14.983-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feline diabetes'/><title type='text'>Test Feed Shoot Feed Test Feed Shoot Feed..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/STktzZAbYjI/AAAAAAAAAFY/qHNSbwzQhjc/s1600-h/syringe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/STktzZAbYjI/AAAAAAAAAFY/qHNSbwzQhjc/s200/syringe.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5276298799350506034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leo may be my fourth diabetic cat, but I had completely gotten out of the groove of Diabetic Cat Management.  Some things I had inadvertently blocked from memory:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. The lines on U-100 syringes are ridiculously close together. Rather like reading a SKU - but the lines are smaller, closer together and make less sense.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Diabetic cats can not stop eating.  They will eat anything, even if it is not actually food. Last night, Leo ate a bag of catnip after refusing to believe it did not contain Temptations or some other delicious treat.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. 28 lbs of used cat litter weighs about 0.75 ton.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Whatever unused container you have carefully selected for insulin storage instantly becomes the one container you need for everything you do in the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. A 31 gauge insulin syringe can go right through the plastic cap that protects it, which is why we are all taught not to recap - a lesson we all ignore.  Incidentally, that now-dulled and bent syringe that just went through the cap can now also go right through a human finger - &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;like buttah&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. As painful as a 31 gauge syringe is once embedded in a human finger, it has nothing on a 29 gauge lancet embedded in a human finger. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Time spent watching tv with the family, doing laundry or cleaning the house, could be better spent testing your cat's blood glucose.  Regardless of what hour it is, you will discover, in hindsight, it is invariably the one time of day that you really needed to know what that number was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. You learn to work with percents:&lt;br /&gt;Once experienced, blood glucose testing yields a good blood drop 87% of the time. 11% of the time, you will get no blood when you know there was blood there 2 hours ago.  2% of the time the Sweet Spot will yield a blood bath that would delight the most inefficient crime lab.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. A diabetic cat's paws are never clean, yet a diabetic yearns for nothing more than to sit on your lap and paw your face with his or her litter-caked foot - in such an adorable manner that you are stuck between running screaming to the bathroom to scrub your face with Clorox and being so overwhelmed with the cuteness that you are paralyzed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. The non-diabetic cats in the house can and will become ragingly jealous of the diabetic cat who is "lucky" enough to be getting two shots a day and stabbed in the ear 5 times a day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel free to comment on your own "discoveries" in treating a diabetic cat!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-3748429860793471139?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/3748429860793471139/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=3748429860793471139' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/3748429860793471139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/3748429860793471139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/test-feed-shoot-feed-test-feed-shoot.html' title='Test Feed Shoot Feed Test Feed Shoot Feed..'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/STktzZAbYjI/AAAAAAAAAFY/qHNSbwzQhjc/s72-c/syringe.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-1161203332318153287</id><published>2008-12-04T08:20:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-04T08:49:37.414-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Leo the Little Lion and his fan club</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/STfdNhc3PnI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/XnzHTdWht9c/s1600-h/leo1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/STfdNhc3PnI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/XnzHTdWht9c/s200/leo1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275928712875294322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leo, the big boned, large framed, 7 lb cat has had a hard life.  Someone put him outside after declawing him, where he begged for food and probably warm laps too.  At some point, Leo got sick, developed diabetes and was turned in to a kill shelter.  He was a very sick boy.  He'd lost probably half of his body weight or more from the ravages of this illness.  Diabetes is no easy thing for a cat, and especially not for an outdoor, un-homed cat.  Once in the shelter, Leo faced certain death, were it not for a lady who contacted one of FDMB's board members, Ken (and Sneakers).  Ken was so keen to get Leo off death row that he actually was seriously considering giving up one of his own precious babies to save Leo.  Thinking that his baby girl kitten, Tabitha, could be adopted easily, he was willing to lose her to save Leo.  He posted on the FDMB.. could anyone save this sweet boy?  Kind people who could not take him in had pledged money to the adopter for medical costs.  Every member who saw the post had their heart broken with worry.  All members have full or overfull homes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jennifer (tuckersmom), another member of FDMB, was thinking of how to take him into her already overcrowded home of specially abled kitties.  I saw the post, after having missed the first post, and responded immediately.  I knew the cat was meant to be mine.  Sometimes you just know those things.  Jennifer and I talked in PM, and I told her I wasn't sure if I could get Leo past Ronnie, who has many allergies, chief among them - cats.  I sent an email to my good friend Jenn (and Sabrina). "Please help me, I'm about to adopt that cat on Community."  When stuff happens so fast, you start to feel impulsive and reckless.  The last thing you want to do is take a cat in a bad situation and somehow make it worse.  Jenn sent an email back.  I can't remember her exact wording, but basically she told me I was too far gone to stop.  She was right of course. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At lunch, I called Ronnie, and the planets shifted and my wonderful man said "Yes".  I was ecstatic, I couldn't believe I was so hooked on this cat already.  Then the love really started.  I was contacted by a money donor.  She really wanted to help the cat, but she already had too many.  Another money donor.  And another.  Syringe donors, meter donors, and people just sending good wishes.  The board really comes together for these babies. God bless every one of you.  I happened to have room in my home for Leo, and am glad I could help him, but I could not do it without your support, and cheering me on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People clamored for updates, wanted pictures, wanted to know how he was.  Ken picked Leo up for the week before bringing him to me and did his best to stabilize our young lion.  He fed and fed (and fed!) the cat with no bottom.  He monitored him, worried about him, fussed over him, and most importantly let Leo know he was loved.  He provided updates for all of us, took pictures, and kept us all up to date on his day to day life with poignant stories of Leo greeting him at the door, or laying with his head in Ken's lap.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could not imagine a more loving group of people than the FDMB, and that makes YOU the best Fan Club ever.  For you guys, who cheer like proud parents over every single out of focus picture I upload, thank you.  I will try to do you justice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's Leo, a mere 3 weeks after that shelter picture was taken, after stealing my seat to bathe himself.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/STfc92E3dDI/AAAAAAAAAFI/jZ0qG64Cg7o/s1600-h/leohome003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/STfc92E3dDI/AAAAAAAAAFI/jZ0qG64Cg7o/s200/leohome003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275928443533882418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-1161203332318153287?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/1161203332318153287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=1161203332318153287' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/1161203332318153287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/1161203332318153287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/leo-little-lion-and-his-fan-club.html' title='Leo the Little Lion and his fan club'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/STfdNhc3PnI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/XnzHTdWht9c/s72-c/leo1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-9218061297068937190</id><published>2008-12-03T10:43:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T11:32:34.121-05:00</updated><title type='text'>*gack*</title><content type='html'>Gack.  An interesting word, isn't it?  It's one of those words that sounds like what it is, like &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;puncture&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;titillate&lt;/span&gt;.  I digress.  Gack actually references what happens when you do bad "crank" (some kind of Methamphetamine drug or something) when the idiot's "gag reflex is triggered by the extreme burning sensation of the nasal passages when the drug is snorted, and the very bitter taste as it drains down the back of the throat" as per the &lt;a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=gack"&gt;Urban Dictionary&lt;/a&gt;.  I digress again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been gacking in our house.  Leo farts.  Can you believe that?  A farting cat!  Roxanne and Niko are mortified, and want to move out.  Niko put his own harness on all by himself last night.  When all the gas runs out of him and Leo leaves that dog-size poo we were talking about the other day, and doesn't bury it... *gack*  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, Ronnie was minding his own business, as he tends to do when he's watching &lt;a href="http://www.fox.com/house/"&gt;House&lt;/a&gt;, Leo hopped up on the couch next to him and let one rip.  Then he turned around and looked at Ronnie innocently just before Ronnie dove under the backrest pillow for relief.  That hurt Leo's feelings.  I think I will create some anti-poot devices so that Leo can be more comfortable in our home and less insecure. Now, it's KNIT ONE PURL TWO right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/STa0j0999uI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ofh6E96Sxyo/s1600-h/gackmask.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 164px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/STa0j0999uI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ofh6E96Sxyo/s200/gackmask.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275602541118093026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-9218061297068937190?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/9218061297068937190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=9218061297068937190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/9218061297068937190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/9218061297068937190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/gack.html' title='*gack*'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/STa0j0999uI/AAAAAAAAAFA/ofh6E96Sxyo/s72-c/gackmask.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-8930018718872587513</id><published>2008-12-02T07:23:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-02T10:14:25.704-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Leo Stalks Innocent Prey</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/STUpNB77GGI/AAAAAAAAAE4/chYDd0tGse4/s1600-h/1130047.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/STUpNB77GGI/AAAAAAAAAE4/chYDd0tGse4/s200/1130047.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275167842369214562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We're home! Gosh it was so much fun.  Here's a brief rundown of what happened in Atlantic City so we can get to the Leo story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday: We (me, Ronnie, Mike and Kathy) leave Virginia Beach at 8:30am, spend 5 hours driving and 3 hours sitting in traffic before arriving in Atlantic City.  We check into Bally's (comp'd room) and promptly get lost.  We finally locate our hotel room and promptly get lost again.  Fortunately we are able to find a doorway out to the boardwalk and find ourselves playing poker at Caesars.  We drink.  We get hit up by bums.  No one remembers anything else. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday: Apparently we found our way back to our hotel room because we all wake up the next morning in the correct beds.  I find a Starbucks, we meet up, we get lost, we find poker, play more poker, get lost trying to find food, drink more.  There are a lot of bums here!  We eat Thanksgiving dinner at a burger joint at 2am.  We all agree it's the best Thanksgiving dinner we've ever eaten.  No one remembers anything else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday: We find ourselves back in our beds in our hotel room, and make arrangements to check out and go check into our new cat-friendly hotel room where we are to meet up later.  We nap.  We leave and go to The Borgata.  Ahhh The Borgata is beautiful.  Then Carolyn finds the Keno game on the video poker machine.  Jackpot!  We "play" more poker at Borgata (players have more money than brains), drink more, lose more, drink more and back to video Keno to make up what we lost.  We notice we never get lost in the Borgata and there are no bums here.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leo-day: We get up, shower, and Andrea calls.  She's on her way! Yay! No one is sure where Jenn is, but we know she's coming too.  We pick Andrea up and head for the Borgata.  We teach her how to play Keno, we eat, drink, play a poker tournament badly, and wait for Jenn.  YAY! Jenn makes it to the Borgata and we all head back to the hotel room and meet Ken, who has driven at the speed of sound to get to AC with Leo.  Andrea has a Lantus emergency and has to head home early, so she doesn't get to meet Ken and Leo.  Leo makes himself right at home in the hotel room.  He discovers Ronnie and decides that Ronnie would make a nice human.  Ronnie pretends to be horrified, but secretly he is probably flattered. We leave Leo to relax for a few hours and head back to Harrah's to meet up with Kathy and Mike.  Ahhhhhhh finally we find people who know how to play good poker!  Ronnie and I make up what we've lost and teach Jenn how to play poker and order drinks.  She shows definite talent in that department!  We leave poker and go to see a band at a bar.  We close that bar out and leave for the hotel room where we proceed to stay up til 6am with a bottle of Jack Daniels and Leo, who's perfectly happy with that decision.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday: Uh-oh.  3 hours sleep and a long drive home facing us.  Jenn takes me to a diner.  New Jersey has a redeeming quality!  If you have never been to a diner in NJ, you must go.  I had the best french toast I have ever had and I'm from Connecticut, a state that has perfected french toast.  Jenn leaves to go home, Ronnie and I nap and at 5:30pm we hit the road for Virginia Beach in the rain.  Leo takes up residence on the well covered backseat, with a litter pan on the floor for a portable restroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 2 hours later, Leo is hungry.  We stop, feed Leo and clean his box.  This becomes a pattern, where every two hours we have to stop and feed Leo and clean his box.  It's raining and traffic is barely moving.  Leo's a very hungry boy, eating about 18oz of canned food a day.  We seem to be making almost no progress due to the rain several hours later, when a smell begins to permeate the Rodeo.  O. M. G.  Eye bleedingly bad.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naturally, by now it's 10pm, I'm on the Eastern shore and nothing is open on my side of the road.  It's raining and I don't feel like I really want to stand in the rain to clean out his box, but I'm game since the smell is horrendous.  An HOUR later I find a Royal station open.  I am so overcome by the fumes at this point that I may never sleep again and I am sure my nostrils have burn marks inside them. I open the back door, and in the litter box is the biggest cat poop I have ever seen.  I am immediately reminded of the Newfoundland poops I saw growing up.  Those are large black dogs, the size of Saint Bernards.  This is a 7lb cat.  I have never cleaned a cat box so fast in my life.  Ronnie wakes up and says, "what's that smell?"  I glare at him and we hit the road again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next post: And then there were three. Again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-8930018718872587513?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/8930018718872587513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=8930018718872587513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/8930018718872587513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/8930018718872587513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/12/leo-stalks-innocent-prey.html' title='Leo Stalks Innocent Prey'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/STUpNB77GGI/AAAAAAAAAE4/chYDd0tGse4/s72-c/1130047.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-5360129455454874135</id><published>2008-11-25T11:28:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T11:42:02.443-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pee My Pants Excited!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSwqp3qUoaI/AAAAAAAAAEw/Rt4Cy8XsmRk/s1600-h/suitcase.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 193px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSwqp3qUoaI/AAAAAAAAAEw/Rt4Cy8XsmRk/s200/suitcase.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272636162548474274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I leave tomorrow for my Atlantic City vacation.  Ronnie and I have never been on a vacation together, so we are super excited.  Well.. I am excited.  Ronnie is typically unexcited.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the last day of our vacation, we'll be bringing home the fabulous and famous Leo.  I can't wait to meet him, and for him to get to know us.  Updates to come!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-5360129455454874135?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/5360129455454874135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=5360129455454874135' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/5360129455454874135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/5360129455454874135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/11/pee-my-pants-excited.html' title='Pee My Pants Excited!'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSwqp3qUoaI/AAAAAAAAAEw/Rt4Cy8XsmRk/s72-c/suitcase.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-5618710999390778309</id><published>2008-11-25T09:41:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T09:55:07.659-05:00</updated><title type='text'>We Talk to the Animals</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSwRp-ssHII/AAAAAAAAAEo/fmRDKNUFBlQ/s1600-h/EyeofHorusSymbol.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 189px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSwRp-ssHII/AAAAAAAAAEo/fmRDKNUFBlQ/s200/EyeofHorusSymbol.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272608676646755458" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow is all I can say.  &lt;a href="www.stephanielbrown.com"&gt;Stephanie Brown&lt;/a&gt; is good!  I will try to keep this as short as possible but we talked to Rox, Niko and Leo.  Y'all know I have memory issues so I will be recalling things as the days go by but this is as good as I can do for now. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I called her, she was not by the phone so I got the answering machine.  I called Jenn and was like omg she's not there! and talked to her for a few minutes, when Jesica points out that the cats suddenly got agitated.  Sure enough, about 30 seconds later my phone rang.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She started laughing almost immediately, which cracked me up.  Turns out Rox and Niko have been having lots of discussions about whether or not I meant it that another cat was coming.  She said the first time I told them they flat-out didn't believe me.  The second time I told them, they started to question it and have been wondering if it was really true.  "The laid-back one is interested to meet him, but the other one is.......not" LOL Naturally, I did not tell her or anyone that I had talked to them twice other than maybe Jenn, but that would be it.  Everyone else thinks I'm crazy LOL  I ended up talking to them twice, because I got the distinct impression they weren't listening to me the first time.  Soooooo 2 mins into the conversation and she's already hit one big thing.  She said when she told them he was really coming that they were both like "She was serious?!"  HAHAHA Now those are my cats.  She said they weren't sure when I told them because "I'm like that" perhaps a reference to the multiple times I've considered bringing another cat into the house that I've seen on the board.  I wonder if they heard me in my head or if I actually talked about it.  It's always heavy on my mind when I see one needing a home.  She told them he was coming because he really needed a home and that I wasn't just doing it just because.  I meant to ask her if they knew that is why THEY were in the house but I'll write that one down for next time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then got to Niko, which got rather lengthy as apparently he had much to explain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Niko&lt;/b&gt;  He's a big fraidy cat.  This has not been revealed before, but me and Jes knew it.  His aggression is his way of acting out his fears.  This is due to his childhood dumps and not something I can do anything about.  He is going to be scared forever.  I listened, but did not quite understand why that is a good thing.. but apparently it is not unhealthy.  He will try and give Leo a chance, but he is not going to promise anything.  He did not believe for quite some time that we were his forever home.  He is starting to understand that he is here forever, but he may never truly let go of the thought that he might get dumped again. :(  She said we are always trying to fix things so we don't understand that it's normal for cats.  Niko is very sad about the loss of Spot ("the cat that died recently"), they were close she said.  I said which one.  She said which one was he closer to?  I said "neither" and she said that's not right.  They had great respect for one another, and that it was the one that was here when he got here.  He thought it was too soon for Leo to come to the house, because he still misses Spot.  I knew he was grieving hard over Spot when he would howl at the door for hours, but I did not realize it was still that painful to him or that they were actually close. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Leo&lt;/b&gt;  Leo is a gentleman, and very concerned that he will upset the household, but very relieved to have a household so he will be on his best behavior.  His diabetes is making him feel bad, but he really likes his food.  He has been told by "them", and understands, that he is not staying where he is right now, and he's good with that, though comfortable where he is.  He thinks he has been outside most of his life, and was once regularly fed by a lady with dark hair, petite but not skinny, when he lived in an alley.  He doesn't know her name, but she moved away.  I got the impression from what she was saying that he really cared for her.  I did not ask her how he got declawed because we were rapidly running out of time after our 15 minute talk with Niko.  Leo thinks his name suits him and rather likes it.  She said he was polite, regal and gentlemanly and felt that he might do well in our household.  She also heavily recommended I introduce him slowly to Rox and Niko since Niko was so apprehensive.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leo is not 9, he thinks he is closer to 7!  He has some teeth issues but they do not seem to be a focus to him, due to the diabetes being more disruptive.  She suspects they may not be that big of a problem after he gets his nutritional levels up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Roxanne&lt;/b&gt; The "laid-back one" is seemingly chatty (LMAO) and had some things to convey.  She will be interested in Leo, but "we'll have to see".  See if he can follow "the rules".  I laughed and said "like she does" when it dawned on me that she meant HER rules, which got Stephanie laughing pretty well.  That just confirmed my suspicion that Miss Foxanne is Alpha in my house.  Niko is misunderstood by humans, he is very playful, and she is good with that, she likes to play, but she really is kept on her toes by him.  He has never had anyone stand up to him she said, and that's why he is like he is.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I asked Stephanie what about Roxanne's death cries and she fell out laughing.  Seems I'm being played.  Hmmph.  She said Roxanne knows she can get a reaction out of me and get me to come get him off her so that's why she does it.  She recommended next time they play "I Will Kill You Dead" that I look over and tell Roxanne to stand up for herself and to handle it.  LOL  She has a cavity on her upper left premolar but her funny clicking noise she always makes when she's chewing on me is actually her attention getter noise.  I thought that was hilarious because the needle sharp teeth usually do a great job of getting my attention.  She said she had the feeling that Rox had soft teeth and they may pose a problem for her lifetime.  She also thinks that might improve as Rox's nutrition level continues to improve, which led me to wonder about what the poor cat was eating when she lived where she lived before being turned in to animal control.  I did not have time to ask though.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They can hear me talking to them in their heads, but the real question is "are they listening?" which I took to mean they are often tuning me out LOL.  No real surprise there.  She referred to it as selective listening.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked her which of the two cats had just vomited and what was wrong with them.  She immediately answered that Niko had, and that he had a hairball.  I said I wasn't sure who had done it because I had found Rox covering it up and she said "Oh yeah, that's because she is Miss Priss and she likes everything just so".  Y'all should have seen Missy Boo's ears when I repeated that to Jenn later.  LOL  Flat as a pancake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So during the conversation the two cats were tearing around the house, then sitting there watching me, then tearing around the house, then sitting there watching me.  Niko was up and down and all over the place trying to find a comfortable place to sit.  After the conversation was the WEIRDEST night.  First, the two cats were all over me and Jesica.  They wanted to play, they wanted pets and lovin's.. but we had to finally leave and get Jesica's hair cut.  So we get back and they are all over us again, especially Niko.  Then I was sitting there on the floor and Niko and Roxanne were sitting about 3 feet from me, when Niko does his patented back flop right in front of Roxanne.  He looked like he was about to reach up and assault her, but she sat up and started bathing him.  It was very cute.. until he decides he's gonna wrap his arms around her neck and bunny kick her to death.  She bit his foot and continued bathing him.  He went after he jugular, she freed herself and bit his foot again.  He went still and she went back to bathing him.  Then he tried to bathe her.  She bit his foot again!  This foot biting thing went on for about 1/2 hour!  He laid there on his back in front of her and she kept going after that foot and he kept flicking his tail and in between all that there was bathing going on.  THEN Niko starts washing Roxie's forehead, so she's sitting there with her head tipped down and he's washing her face and it was the coolest thing ever.. until she bit his foot again.  Me and Jes were about to explode from trying not to laugh out loud at them.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what I think: Niko was showing his respect for her because she stuck up for him to the animal communicator.  I have never seen him behave submissively towards her before and it was the strangest thing!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot wait to talk to her again.  She nailed my cats, and their attitudes, behaviors and quirks.  I feel very sure that I made the right move getting ahold of her before bringing Leo in.  She was great to talk to. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-5618710999390778309?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/5618710999390778309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=5618710999390778309' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/5618710999390778309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/5618710999390778309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/11/we-talk-to-animals.html' title='We Talk to the Animals'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSwRp-ssHII/AAAAAAAAAEo/fmRDKNUFBlQ/s72-c/EyeofHorusSymbol.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-2474303671733181085</id><published>2008-11-23T20:15:00.008-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T21:08:29.748-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Niko Gets a Hot New Girlfriend</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSoAyd70b2I/AAAAAAAAACk/uvxucRx1BPk/s1600-h/DSC00950.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSoAyd70b2I/AAAAAAAAACk/uvxucRx1BPk/s200/DSC00950.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272027180819574626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The saddest in the house was our young boy Niko.  I knew I could not get another "healthy" cat, that I would have to get one that would be considered unadoptable.  Diabetics are generally older cats, but the 3 year old nutjob needed a young friend.  I was not sure what to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Niko was still howling at the door for Spot, and now spent much of his time walking around the house in circles, searching.  Then, on Valentine's Day, 1 year to the day that Spot was diagnosed with diabetes, I got a private message from an FDMB member who had seen another member's post about her foster cat.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Initially I didn't even want to read that post, but then curiosity got the better of me. I saw that it was a little girl kitty, only 2 and a half years old.  That is crazy young for a diabetic.  This little girl had extra toes on each of her paws, a true four-paw &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polydactyl_cat"&gt;polydactyl&lt;/a&gt;!  Sammie was a polydactyl who could throw and catch balls with her extra toes.  I was hooked.  I had another one of those conversations with Ronnie, where I beg, reason and plead and he blinks.  YAY! Another kitty! Suddenly I was the crazy cat lady again, my friends were laughing at me, my boss rolled his eyes.  I realized, that even though I was grieving the loss of my boys who died less than 2 months apart, that my heart actually needed a new kitty to love too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I contacted Connie, who was fostering this little girl.  The kitty's name was Reese, and she was unafraid and very sociable, not sick at all aside from the diabetes.  We chatted and then I contacted her shelter, &lt;a href="http://www.animalwelfaresociety.org/"&gt;AWS in Kennebunkport Maine&lt;/a&gt;, and arranged the adoption.  We requested transport help on the Feline Diabetes board. The whole of FDMB came together in excitement.  Everyone wanted to help in some way and people not living on the east coast were bummed that they couldn't help transport the cat. We had daily updates and then, suddenly it was the big day.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSoIh-unYxI/AAAAAAAAACs/dgeJPAwOaEQ/s1600-h/Eatin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 160px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSoIh-unYxI/AAAAAAAAACs/dgeJPAwOaEQ/s200/Eatin.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272035693657809682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;"Reese" became "Roxanne" instantly.  Never have I seen such unladylike behavior - it was downright embarrassing.  Niko was quite taken aback by it as well, but on Day 1, it all seemed like it was gonna be okay.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nine months to the day that I met Roxanne, Niko has a bestest friend with fur that tastes bad and has to be spat out.  Roxanne has a pincushion.  We have laughter and hilarity ensuing in our home all day. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;(The downstairs neighbors would like to interject that my "herd of elephants" spend most of the night perfecting their hilarity.)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have peace and a proper pecking order again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSoLyhMdlmI/AAAAAAAAAC0/HH11rEtJJl4/s1600-h/f195f40b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSoLyhMdlmI/AAAAAAAAAC0/HH11rEtJJl4/s200/f195f40b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5272039276322592354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-2474303671733181085?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/2474303671733181085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=2474303671733181085' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/2474303671733181085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/2474303671733181085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/11/saddest-in-house-was-our-young-boy-niko.html' title='Niko Gets a Hot New Girlfriend'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSoAyd70b2I/AAAAAAAAACk/uvxucRx1BPk/s72-c/DSC00950.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-2270676453353426257</id><published>2008-11-23T17:14:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T18:09:19.305-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And Then There Was One</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSnavtUG0HI/AAAAAAAAACU/zQXT9MQrwgA/s1600-h/ist2_1008682_christmas_ornaments.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 177px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSnavtUG0HI/AAAAAAAAACU/zQXT9MQrwgA/s200/ist2_1008682_christmas_ornaments.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271985351966511218" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;December rolls in cold and blustery. Spot has now picked up Pancreatitis to go along with his near-blindness, deafness, paralyzed back legs, spondylosis and arthritis.  We've learned how to inject Sub Q fluids without vomiting on our cat, and the soothing benefits of Pepcid AC on a cat that can't stop thinking about throwing up.  Diabetes comes back every time Spot has a pancreatic flareup, but we are able to get rid of it as easily as the first time.  There's a scary episode involving seizures and a midnight run to the ER. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spot takes all of this in stride, happy to be ministered to and unflappable even after multiple seizures.  There is one thing that annoys Spot however.  I refer to her as Dr. Scairda Katz.  She is more of a dog person, we guess, as she is completely terrified of a cat who can't walk.  Spot, who never met a human he didn't like, hates her on sight.  Unfortunately for the both of them, Dr. Evil is his acupuncturist and she comes as part of a package deal with her trusty sidekick, Nurse Ballbuster.  Spot, having no balls, sets his sights on killing her first, then the doc.  Fortunately all humans survive the various trips to the acupuncturist and Spot continues to improve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oscar is feeling much better, and venturing around the house as much as he can without being seen.  He spends the majority of the day assuming that if he doesn't look at Niko, then Niko can't see him and thus pounce on him.  Normally this does not have the desired effect, but Oscar continues practicing.  We talk to the animal communicator again.  Niko is not happy that he's not the Most Important One.  Spot is happy, period.  Oscar would like to know if he can have his crunchy food back.  All is well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The day after Christmas, Spot is particularly active.  He's walrus-flopping himself inside, outside, and all around the house.  I had a brief moment where I wondered if something was about to happen and then brushed it aside.  At 10am we had an appointment with a new vet to assess his medications.  Jesica and I cart him down to the car, when the first seizure hits.  We race to the old vet, where the seizures continue.  No one knows why he's seizing, and it's getting worse.  Finally Spot loses respirations, and consciousness.  We look at him, intubated, asleep, peaceful.  We make the terrible decision. There was no decision of course, he couldn't live like that, which made saying it even harder.  This was the one thing that Spot couldn't recover from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We trudge on without our happy boy.  We have two more boys who need us.  Niko is particularly sad, howling for hours at the door, looking for Spot.  Oscar gives no indication that he has noticed, but we know he has.  Focusing on Oscar and Niko, we try to give them love in their confusion. In late December, a gift of Lantus arrives.  A generous FDMB'er has sent us this insulin to use on Oscar.  He loves it!  It makes him feel great.  For about 10 days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January 10th I notice that Oscar has gone from sort of eating to not eating.  At first I thought the lighter appetite was due to feeling better.  This not eating thing couldn't be good though.  I rush him to the vet, who is building a new addition from funds I have paid them by now, and discover important things about Oscar and his health.  He's dying.  He has fluid in his chest, and his heart is turning into stone.  He has &lt;a href="http://www.cfa.org/articles/health/hypertrophic-cardiomyopathy.html"&gt;Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy&lt;/a&gt; and is in end stage heart failure.  She says we have no time left.  I press her.  Surely this is not happening to him!  It is, she says, but refers us to a cardiologist.  The cardiologist agrees, and says we only have weeks to months if we treat.  I was devastated.  He was just starting to feel better, and life was going to be good for him.  There was nothing left to do but treat and pray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadly, Oscar lived only for another 21 days after that diagnosis.  He died of heart failure 6 months and 2 days after I brought him into my house.  It seemed like a lifetime, but not enough time.  He never had a chance, and it was a horrible pill to swallow for us. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;And then there was one.. Rest in Peace my heroic boys..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next post: The Incredible Sadness of Niko&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-2270676453353426257?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/2270676453353426257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=2270676453353426257' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/2270676453353426257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/2270676453353426257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/11/and-then-there-was-one.html' title='And Then There Was One'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSnavtUG0HI/AAAAAAAAACU/zQXT9MQrwgA/s72-c/ist2_1008682_christmas_ornaments.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-1573696224876937095</id><published>2008-11-23T16:16:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T16:32:02.253-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Intermission - Leo Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSnLa_YorlI/AAAAAAAAACE/jkcyXErQGpc/s1600-h/Leo1-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSnLa_YorlI/AAAAAAAAACE/jkcyXErQGpc/s200/Leo1-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271968503365676626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ken (and Sneakers) has collected Leo from his cage at the vet and brought him to spend the week at Spa Ken.  Here's a pic of our boy making himself at home on a soft cushy chair.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-1573696224876937095?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/1573696224876937095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=1573696224876937095' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/1573696224876937095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/1573696224876937095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/11/intermission-leo-update.html' title='Intermission - Leo Update'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSnLa_YorlI/AAAAAAAAACE/jkcyXErQGpc/s72-c/Leo1-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-1615160848032041096</id><published>2008-11-23T14:09:00.015-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T16:35:58.578-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When The Madhouse Becomes a Biohazard</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSnMqOmyaHI/AAAAAAAAACM/3Gl1VHRaIPc/s1600-h/medical-symbol-thumb1514980.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSnMqOmyaHI/AAAAAAAAACM/3Gl1VHRaIPc/s200/medical-symbol-thumb1514980.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271969864661231730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a beautiful sunny day in August when we drive to Williamsburg to pick up Oscar.  Spot has commenced the day sporting a rather gritty pair of cement boots, due to peeing like a racehorse and then stepping in the wet litter.  We soak his feet as best as we can and make our way to our new cat.  After meeting his parents, and picking him up, we enjoy an eventless ride back home.  Oscar is clearly a good car kitty, just looking around quietly, taking in his surroundings.  He has ears like radar receivers, looking only slightly ridiculous perched atop a face with the most wise countenance I'd ever seen on a cat.  This cat was certainly an Old Soul and I already felt the heartstrings pulling for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The new bliss survived only until our return, where we discovered Spot on the kitchen floor, unable to walk.  This was not the first time we had discovered Spot in dire circumstances, it had always seemed with Spot that if it was possible to terrorize your human companions, he would find the method.  Knowing this about Spot did not make it any less terrifying, as it was Saturday and our regular vet was closed.  Spot had recently been diagnosed with &lt;a href="http://www.web-dvm.net/spondylosis.html"&gt;spondylosis&lt;/a&gt; so we had a pretty good idea of what was happening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Monday came, we went to the vet, who suggested euthanasia since his quality of life would surely be destroyed.  I assured her we would consider it, but looking at Spot's happy little face, I figured that we would, again, not be sending Spot to the Bridge yet.  Spot had already used up many lives and there was no reason to think he was giving up this time either.  We talked to an &lt;a href="http://www.dawnallen.org/"&gt;animal communicator&lt;/a&gt;.  Sure enough, he did not want to give up.  We went to acupunture, we practiced walking, we had a cart donated to us by the PZI group on the FDMB.  Slowly, but surely, Spot did well overcoming his paralysis and become almost mobile.  He wore diapers like a champ, even though he hated them.  He had massages, and lots and lots of treats. He was nothing short of a miracle.  A happy kitty, robbed of his former graceful self, yet determined to be the best he could be. &lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSm0MZ4VynI/AAAAAAAAABo/Gz1IZanfSnE/s1600-h/Stillstanding.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 134px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSm0MZ4VynI/AAAAAAAAABo/Gz1IZanfSnE/s200/Stillstanding.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271942964012501618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, in Jesica's room, lived a sweet boy who was so scared that it seemed all he did was quake, hiss and growl in our presence.  He was sad and lonely, missing his home, and he felt like crap.  His blood glucose was raging and his digestive issues had taken their toll on his health and weight.  Oscar was a bony, emaciated mess.  Testing Oscar's blood glucose was a nightmare and resulted in multiple new wounds for his mom.  My friends were in shock, thinking they had befriended a complete moron.  My co-workers were now making a wide path around me lest I show them my latest &lt;s&gt;gushing, gaping wound&lt;/s&gt; tiny inadvertent scratch from Oscar.  It became obvious very quickly that something was going to have to be done about Oscar's health or he would die.  His numbers were high and showing &lt;a href="http://petdiabetes.wikia.com/wiki/Glucose_toxicity"&gt;toxicity&lt;/a&gt;, and he was so weak that he had a pronounced knock-kneed appearance from behind.  We started giving Oscar 3 shots of insulin a day to combat the toxicity.  A suggestion was made to try &lt;a href="http://www.naturesvariety.com/raw_products_rabbit"&gt;raw food&lt;/a&gt; and it worked instantly. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;*cue angels singing*&lt;/span&gt; Oscar loved it, fortunately, and not only did his glucose begin to come down, but he started to gain weight when the food cured the Terminal Squirts. &lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSm7NTohYDI/AAAAAAAAABw/2jozJ-1ep0Q/s1600-h/DSC00467.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSm7NTohYDI/AAAAAAAAABw/2jozJ-1ep0Q/s200/DSC00467.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271950676096802866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life, while crazy, was beginning to look up.  One cat was almost walking again, and the other was beginning to relish his new health.  Niko was still feeling left out, but now there was more time for him too. &lt;center&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSm7iIkWLbI/AAAAAAAAAB4/YvXq3ks0em0/s1600-h/DSC00449.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 144px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSm7iIkWLbI/AAAAAAAAAB4/YvXq3ks0em0/s200/DSC00449.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271951033903754674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next post: The Madhouse falls down&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-1615160848032041096?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/1615160848032041096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=1615160848032041096' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/1615160848032041096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/1615160848032041096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/11/when-madhouse-becomes-biohazard.html' title='When The Madhouse Becomes a Biohazard'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSnMqOmyaHI/AAAAAAAAACM/3Gl1VHRaIPc/s72-c/medical-symbol-thumb1514980.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-5337782508977052425</id><published>2008-11-22T08:08:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T08:47:19.506-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Sorts of Things Do Crazy Cat Ladies Do?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSgH7ntIYQI/AAAAAAAAABQ/jjQA5V6d0LY/s1600-h/Oscar+Sweetface.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSgH7ntIYQI/AAAAAAAAABQ/jjQA5V6d0LY/s200/Oscar+Sweetface.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5271472084689117442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here it is August of 2007 and six months after Spot has kicked his insulin habit.  I've returned to my regularly scheduled programming of poker tournaments and other forms of denial, but the crazy cat lady in me cannot be disguised.  &lt;a href="http://www.felinediabetes.com/"&gt;FDMB&lt;/a&gt; is still a daily part of my life; in my desperation to pay it forward, I have literally read every post, every day on the site.  I try to help as much as I can - I am so eager to pay down the debt I owe to this miracle group who've saved my cat's life.  My friends have no idea what I am talking about most of the time and just kind of look at me - come to think of it, much like one looks at a person they've just identified as a crazy cat lady.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One cat has come to my attention on the board, a young man named Oscar.  How can you not notice a cat named Oscar?  Oscar was a very troublesome kitty, using an insulin I was familiar with, eating foods we knew to be good, but having much failure with getting better.   I tried to help, I tried to ignore what I felt was going to come down to a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Animal_euthanasia"&gt;PTS&lt;/a&gt; moment as he was seemingly getting sicker.  His Dad tried and tried, but Oscar had some issues with digestion which resulted in what we like to call Colon Blow.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Note: &lt;/span&gt;By "we", I mean "me", since most people I know refuse to discuss poo issues.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the day comes, that the post goes up again requesting someone adopt Oscar.  I know I must act, or he could be PTS.  The baby was allergic and had serious reactions and the Colon Blow situation was getting out of hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked to Ronnie at length about it and subsequently we decided I should go get this cat.  (Again, by "we", I mean "me" since Ronnie does not discuss anything &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;at length&lt;/span&gt;.) Here is a transcript of our conversation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Carolyn&lt;/span&gt;: Baby?  Baby.  Hey Baby.  Um so I was on the Feline diabetes board and um you know there's a really sick cat in Northern Virginia and I think the owner might PTS if he doesn't get some help really fast and so I was thinking if I go up there and get the cat and I can work on him and get him better, you know, foster him until I can find him a home and then he won't have to be put to sleep and I know I can make him better because I cured Spot - remember that? - and I know he just needs some new insulin or something and I know his owner is really sad and getting some pressure, and his baby is allergic but he really loves this cat and I don't want to make him put the cat to sleep and I think since I'm the one that responded, I should go get him, like that Proverb where if you save a man's life you're responsible for them for the rest of their life - ok maybe not exactly like that, but you see the correlation, right?  Anyway I think I really gotta do this, I would feel terrible if I logged on and saw his GA announcement and I would throw up because I know I can help this cat, knowwhatimean?  He really wouldn't be any trouble and we could keep him in Jesica's room, and I mean really now, how hard is it to test and shoot a cat, after learning with Spot, I know I can make this cat better and get him a good home and he's really cute and how can you not love a cat with the name Oscar?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Baby:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;*blink*&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Carolyn:&lt;/span&gt; Oh MY GOD!#!!@@#! Does that mean YES?!!!!! THANK YOU BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I love you love you love you!!!!! You are the best man ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then there were three. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next post:  During the trip to get Oscar, Spot becomes paralyzed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-5337782508977052425?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/5337782508977052425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=5337782508977052425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/5337782508977052425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/5337782508977052425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/11/what-sorts-of-things-do-crazy-cat.html' title='What Sorts of Things Do Crazy Cat Ladies Do?'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSgH7ntIYQI/AAAAAAAAABQ/jjQA5V6d0LY/s72-c/Oscar+Sweetface.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-4141551450778235707</id><published>2008-11-21T08:16:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-21T10:46:40.391-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What the Hell is Feline Diabetes?!</title><content type='html'>Ok so I'm standing in the Office Max making copies for our new company on Valentine's Day and my vet calls my cell.  She starts talking, gets to feline diabetes and I hear nothing else for about 10 minutes.  I don't even know what human diabetes is, so all I'm thinking is "OMG he's gonna die".  I tried to tune back into the conversation and she said "I'll understand if you want to put him to sleep."  She also said it was treatable, but my needle-phobic self was going to be giving injections twice a day every day for the rest of his life.  I told her I'd make an appointment to come back in with him and got off the phone.  20 minutes on the phone and I'd heard nothing but "diabetes" and the clanking of the copy machine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in shock for a few days.  I procrastinated.  My happy Spot, sick as heck, but still purring, still wanting to hang out with me, still sweet.  Two days later I decide to Google feline diabetes.  All I knew about diabetes was that one of Jesica's friends had it.  After a couple hours of reading, I ran across a site that said &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Feline Diabetes is Not a Death Sentence&lt;/span&gt;.  It clicked - it was exactly how I felt.  Spot had been given a death sentence and I was responsible for carrying out the execution.  Here was this site, telling me I could do this.  Excitedly I called Ronnie and told him "I don't have to kill Spot!"  He laughed and then I laughed for the first time in days and suddenly I couldn't stop talking about feline diabetes.  My friends were horrified - they weren't too excited about my new vocabulary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hurriedly made an appointment and learned how to "shoot the cat".  I bought the special cat food.  He hated it. Niko wasn't too thrilled with the new food either.  Meanwhile I'd been reading  and learned all kinds of neat stuff, and some really scary stuff.  First off, there was a Blood Cult on that site!  They all stabbed their cats' ears and tested the blood.  What for??!  I wasn't gonna do that, that's for sure!  Then I was reading the food I'd bought for Spot was all wrong and that I was supposed to be feeding wet food.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Hmmm.. was my vet wrong?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;It seemed so, and I was amazed.  I thought vets knew &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;everything&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out the door I went, and bought 5 flavors of canned Fancy Feast.  Spot loved it, Niko hated it.  In my haste, since I only half-read anything when I'm in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;spastic learning mode&lt;/span&gt;, I failed to notice that we don't switch our beloved kitties to wet food without reducing the insulin dose.  Within 24 hours, I was killing Spot and had no idea why.  He looked like a cow manure pile with whiskers.  So back to the &lt;a href="http://www.felinediabetes.com/"&gt;FDMB&lt;/a&gt; to find out what was wrong with my cat.  Those crazy-assed blood cult people were still there.  They said I had to start torturing my cat to save him.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yeah, riiiiiiiiiiiiight.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I continued looking at threads, trying to find someone who had a cat like mine.. why wouldn't he get better?  Then I read the post about Hypoglycemia Symptoms.  Oh. My. God.   I raced to the Kroger, bullied the pharmacist into teaching me everything I never wanted to know about testing blood glucose and raced back home with my new purchases.  I tested Spot right before his next shot was due and damn if he wasn't at 93, a perfectly unshootable number.  Yep, I was definitely trying to kill my cat here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward 2 weeks: Spot went off the juice.. no more insulin shots!  He was diet controlled in under 3 weeks, perfectly healthy, ignoring the water bowl, and happily slurping up his new love - Fancy Feast.  With yummy gravy.  Niko still hated it, but life was good.  Two healthy cats, I had a hero in the form of the FDMB, and was now a virulent member of the Blood Cult on FDMB.  My friends couldn't understand anything I said, and were terrified of my new prowess with sharp objects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So..... back to my poker league I went.. no more crazy cat lady. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until a few months later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next post: When two become three..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-4141551450778235707?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/4141551450778235707/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=4141551450778235707' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/4141551450778235707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/4141551450778235707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/11/what-hell-is-feline-diabetes.html' title='What the Hell is Feline Diabetes?!'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-4126222321012352667</id><published>2008-11-20T08:13:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T15:32:35.366-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feline diabetes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diabetic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Virginia Beach'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='adoption'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kitty'/><title type='text'>Crazy Cat Lady - How It All Started</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSVk7gna9-I/AAAAAAAAAAg/k8hmfwg9L5w/s1600-h/SpotonSleepingJes1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 198px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSVk7gna9-I/AAAAAAAAAAg/k8hmfwg9L5w/s200/SpotonSleepingJes1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270729912437372898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is Spot, the Ferocious Man Kitty.  Spot came to me as a young kitten, a stray who'd taken up residence with a friend of my then-husband and his many dogs.  He was his own little man from the day he sauntered into my living room, guarding Jesica from sleep demons and briskly prowling the house day and night protecting all within from vicious bugs, deranged attack beetles and the occasional housefly, which we all know to be quite dangerous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSVlc2h8_BI/AAAAAAAAAA4/q5HcpXwsaBw/s1600-h/SpotnJes1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 168px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSVlc2h8_BI/AAAAAAAAAA4/q5HcpXwsaBw/s200/SpotnJes1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270730485255699474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spot lived in many houses and many states with us, caring for us during countless moves.  He tolerated animals of all kinds, often alerting me to a bird in distress or a kitty needing to be rescued.  He did all of this with his very best friend in the world - Miss Sammie Wammie.  Sammie and Spot were thick as thieves.  They did everything together and God help you if they didn't like you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSVn5lMWkmI/AAAAAAAAABA/jHUTmuGHoL8/s1600-h/SamStretch-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 81px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSVn5lMWkmI/AAAAAAAAABA/jHUTmuGHoL8/s400/SamStretch-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270733177841160802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Miss Sammie was a beautiful, if slightly dim, white kitten when we adopted her about 6 months after we met Spot. Quite tragically for Spot, Sammie died suddenly of cancer at 15.  Just like that, our sweet girl was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple months later, I noticed my Man Kitty acting in ways I thought meant he was getting senile.  He'd follow a water bowl anywhere, he'd literally wrap himself around a water bowl for hours.  He attacked his food so voraciously that I was afraid he would choke on it.  He had been having much trouble with chronic ear infections and polyps, and had spinal arthritis, so when these oddnesses starting becoming evident, I felt sad and thought that he was in deep mourning.  His coat was unkempt, so unlike the beautiful glossy coat he'd had his whole life.  I went to the pet store and bought him a furminator.. and met Niko, very sad and lonely in the shelter's huge dog crate.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSVqrRPyLcI/AAAAAAAAABI/Np1H0cvSs6E/s1600-h/Niko+Railing.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSVqrRPyLcI/AAAAAAAAABI/Np1H0cvSs6E/s200/Niko+Railing.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270736230503558594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Niko was trouble.  Big trouble.  He was into everything and wanted to be to boss.  Spot just wanted his water bowl.  I was even sadder because I knew I'd made a mistake thinking Spot would feel better with a friend.  He started losing weight.  One morning I saw him limping and knew I had to get him some pain pills so I took him to the vet and she ran bloodwork.  I was scared, and wondered what she had seen to run bloodwork.  Then I got the call.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spot had diabetes.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*cue cliffhanger music*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next post: The rest of the story..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-4126222321012352667?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/4126222321012352667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=4126222321012352667' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/4126222321012352667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/4126222321012352667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/11/crazy-cat-lady-how-it-all-started.html' title='Crazy Cat Lady - How It All Started'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SSVk7gna9-I/AAAAAAAAAAg/k8hmfwg9L5w/s72-c/SpotonSleepingJes1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-763237786007322987.post-4973242597934498317</id><published>2008-11-19T13:05:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T15:32:12.287-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feline diabetes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cat'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diabetic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Virginia Beach'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='adoption'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='kitty'/><title type='text'>New Diabetic Coming!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i188.photobucket.com/albums/z254/onlyred/FDMB%20Photos/leo1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://i188.photobucket.com/albums/z254/onlyred/FDMB%20Photos/leo1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon we will be a 3 cat household again.  We are getting a new kitty, currently named Leo.  Leo is a diabetic and coming from the great outdoors where a very nice lady was feeding him.  It became clear that he was sick, and was diagnosed with diabetes.  He looks pretty wiped out, but I know we can spruce this little man right up.  I can't wait to see how he turns out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be picking him up in Atlantic City on the 29th and bringing him home to meet my 2 spoiled babies then.  I am sure they will be thrilled.. *cough*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say Hello to my new boy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i188.photobucket.com/albums/z254/onlyred/FDMB%20Photos/leo2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://i188.photobucket.com/albums/z254/onlyred/FDMB%20Photos/leo2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/763237786007322987-4973242597934498317?l=mysugarkitties.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.felinediabetes.com/phorum5/read.php?7,1363281,1363281#msg-1363281' title='New Diabetic Coming!'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/feeds/4973242597934498317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=763237786007322987&amp;postID=4973242597934498317' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/4973242597934498317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/763237786007322987/posts/default/4973242597934498317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysugarkitties.blogspot.com/2008/11/new-diabetic-coming.html' title='New Diabetic Coming!'/><author><name>Carolyn</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HI6tfQQkP5c/SStmA7kgdCI/AAAAAAAAAEA/DLx82TWfP7w/S220/6.18.08+054.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i188.photobucket.com/albums/z254/onlyred/FDMB%20Photos/th_leo1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
