Vet called: The X-Rays show no fractures.The Sam has a serious infection. They are shaving him and checking his entire body for any wounds. They think it may be related to the old wound from a couple of months ago, because his white blood cells and antibodies are very high, indicating a chronic infection (the old wound may have healed, but it may have left infection behind on the inside, basically).

The good news is, he ate a nice lunch, and wagged his tail shortly after the first dose of antibiotics.

They are not ruling out that saddle-thing (some kind of blood clot that some older cats get, can be very dangerous), although they think it is "just" this infection.

The Sam will be there until at least tomorrow, then sent home with some oral antibiotics (hopefully, in drop form... The Sam HATES pills). They may keep him an extra night, just to be safe, depending on his reaction to the meds.

Apparently, he has made a few friends there. The doctor told me: "He's a good little cat." (I had to laugh at that. The Sam is nearly 22 pounds... he is NOT "little"!). The assistant that we saw earlier said that he was playing with her for a little while. The other assistant (Lindsay?) who is going to be there all night, said he was, "A dreamboat."

I'm all crying and worried about the little man, and he's makin' time.

Thank you all for waiting with me. It was nice not to have to wait alone.

I'll update tomorrow, when I know more.

Thanks again. You guys are awesome!!!
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I am a mess.

We had to bring The Sam to the vet today. This is the first time he’s ever had to stay at the kitty-doctor’s office overnight.

There is something wrong with his back, near his cute little fuzzy butt. His tail isn’t working. He had a hard time hopping up onto the chair next to me in the examination room, and I felt my heart crack.

It could be any number of things. They don’t think anything is broken, but they’re taking X-rays just to be certain. The other things that it could be... I can’t even bring myself to write them down.

He was purring and giving us head-butts/kitty-love... and flirting with the cute assistant (The Sam has always been something of a ladies’ man). He’s a big, strong cat with no other health issues. But he’s almost ten years old...

The waiting is killing me.

Will you wait with me, please?

He is my baby. I really can’t handle this.

I’ll update when I hear from the vet.

One of us asks, “What’s my favourite __________?” The other has to guess.

Ken and I have known each other for about twelve years. We already know basic favourites: colour, flavour of ice cream, pizza toppings, card games, et cetera. The better we get to know one another, the odder the “favourite” questions get.

Sometimes, the guessing goes on forever. Every once in a while, we surprise each other and guess right away.

Last weekend, on our ride home from visiting Ken’s mother in Omaha (My FIL drove), we played the game, and I was surprised.

I asked, “What’s my favourite Star Trek character?”

At the same time, my husband and my father-in-law said, “Bones!”

Bingo! ... But it isn’t like we talk about Star Trek all of the time... I chuckled, “How did you guys know that?”

Again in unison, they said, “Grumpy Old Man!”

I smiled all the way home.

My guys know me so well.

Up until then, our place was ours.

I love my FIL; he is a wonderful man and a great roommate. He’s been helping us out in a thousand different ways.

But... our cat, The Sam cannot live here (the building does not allow pets), so he’s been staying with Ken’s cousin up in Sun Prairie. My car died in New York on the way out here, so we’re using Ken’s uncle’s car (and don’t think that I don’t appreciate that!). I’m grateful to all of my husband’s family for their assistance and support.

But... this isn’t our place, this isn’t our car, and lately, it feels like The Sam isn’t really our cat anymore.

We have a little bit of money in savings (tax refunds), enough for a first and last month’s rent deposit. Once we’re employed, we’ll be able to move out, into a place that allows pets.

We need to be in our own place, with our cat, saving up for our own new car.

I miss working. I miss being independent. I miss having our own place, where we can run around starkers if we feel like it. I miss The Dodge, even though it was a piece of junk, and even though I love Uncle John’s Oldsmobile (I call it, “The Yacht”.). I miss waking up with The Sam’s big fluffy paws in my face.

I miss Ma Petite Fleur (our little girl-kitty, Mikey, R.I.P.), but that’s a whole other story.

Please, God, let this be the week... the one in which someone says those two beautiful words: “You’re hired!”

I really need that.

The vet called. Mikey is out of surgery. We're not quite out of the woods yet. She's on antibiotics and she ate a tiny bit. We'll have a better idea in 24 hours.

Thank you for all of your kind thoughts and prayers. We really appreciate it. Will update tomorrow, once we know more.
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She's our little princess, Ma Petite Fleur. Mikey is our little girl-kitty (Please see my profile picture). She was so good to my mom when she was ill... she really is an amazing little cat.

She is in surgery right now. She may die. I really don't want to talk about all of the details right now, but yeah. It's very serious.

If you pray, please include Mikey in your prayers. If you don't pray, could you please just give her a kind thought?

Please?

So far, the pork chop is my FIL’s favourite. Well, he says it is a toss-up between my pork chops and my Dijon chicken, but I think he prefers the pork.

It has been fun, cooking again. Some of it has been challenging: my FIL cannot handle spicy foods, and it isn’t “my” kitchen, here. I’m getting used to it, though, toning down the hotness and not making a face when something isn’t where I think it should be kept.

I find myself singing while I’m cooking, and talking to the ingredients. That’s the kind of silly stuff I do when I am happy.

Watching my husband and my father-in-law eat makes me even happier. They are so cute! They munch and grunt like cavemen. In between bites, they say things like, “MMM,” and “Good!” They usually want seconds (Ken takes thirds, sometimes. I have no idea where he puts it!), and they clean up afterward.

I watch them eat something as simple as pork chops like it is some kind of ambrosia, and I think, If my cats could be here, this would be perfect and I would never want to leave!
 

SIMPLE PORK CHOPS

Medium-thick pork chops, 4 bone-in or 6 boneless
4 garlic cloves, minced
½ medium yellow onion, minced
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp parsley flakes
1 tsp kosher salt
Coarse-ground black pepper to taste
Olive oil
Shallow baking pan
Aluminum foil

Preheat oven to 350˚F. (Note: Once the oven hits 350, leave it closed and wait about twenty minutes before putting the meat in, to be sure that the oven is evenly heated.)
 
Line bottom of pan with aluminum foil, dull side up. Brush with a little bit of olive oil.

In a small bowl, combine garlic, onion, oregano, parsley and kosher salt. Place half of the mixture onto the pan (I usually put it down in little strips, one each where I plan on placing the pork chops).

Place pork chops onto pan. Brush each chop with a tiny bit of olive oil. Divide remaining amount of mixture between the pork chops (I use my fingers to spread evenly). Sprinkle with black pepper to taste.

Bake at 350˚F for 40 minutes, turning the pork chops over once halfway through.

You can serve them with just about anything: mashed potatoes and green beans, rice and steamed spinach, or maybe just some bread and a nice salad.

My favourite salad to go with pork chops:

10 oz bag fresh spinach, washed and thoroughly dried
4 slices well-cooked bacon, crumbled
¼ cup shredded cheddar cheese
1 McIntosh apple, cored, sliced and dipped in lemon juice (the juice keeps the slices from turning brown)
Olive oil and red wine vinegar

Toss the first three items together in a bowl. Arrange apple slices on top. Serve with olive oil and red wine vinegar on the side.

Simple food isn’t so bad.

I skipped the good cry and the hot bath. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow that night.

The next day, we were going to a birthday party for one of Ken’s aunts. We were supposed to be there at eleven thirty in the morning, but we were late (Ken’s dad let us sleep in a little). I was a little anxious; they called it a “small” family gathering, but there were more than a dozen cars parked out front.

Deep breaths, Vanessa. It’s just family.

Following Ken and my FIL up the walkway, I thought, What if they don’t like me? They don’t even know me. None of them were invited to the wedding... and you KNOW they’re gonna blame ME for that. What do I say? “Hey, my husband never even told me you people EXISTED”? God, what if...?

Then we walked into the house full of people. As my husband took my coat, I looked in, past the foyer. I smiled. Oh, my.

In the front room, it was wall-to-wall Grumpy Old Men... some with glasses on!

Ken kissed my cheek. He whispered, “You gonna be okay, honey?”

I kissed him back. “You never told me that your uncles are all Grumpy Old Men. I‘m gonna be juuuuuuuuuuust fiiiiiiiiiine!” My husband chuckled; he gets a kick out of my G.O.M. Collection.

I had a lovely time at the party. Ken’s aunts are all funny and sweet. The cousins and their children were fun to hang out and play with. I got to meet my husband’s grandmother, and she was very, very nice.

And Ken’s uncles? They’re all mine, now. I walked into the front room where they were all hanging out (where they set up the bar!) and stayed for hours.

My “new” family rocks. Everyone has been so helpful, taking in the cats until we get our own digs, lending us a car until we can get one of our own, and giving us leads on jobs and education... and of course, there’s my FIL, letting us live here while we look for employment!

The fact that I got a whole batch of new Grumpy Old Men out of this move to the Midwest? Bonus!