Rachael

We went to see him yesterday afternoon — oh, what a difference an IV makes. He looked SOOOO different from just hours before. Plus, he was getting good pain meds, so he felt well enough to yell at us (hooray!) but his voice sounded funny. Like if a stoner gets mad at you, "Heyyy!…Huh? What?" He was hydrated again, and he had been eating, and they took his e-collar off and removed his stitches, so he was grooming himself.

I think that’s a great sign, meself. I’ll visit him later today and tell him you all are still rooting for him…..

*Just heard from the doc — Digit’s doing even better now, still eating, and they’re going to do the big surgery tomorrow. Yay! Scary, but yay!

Today I’m not feeling so well myself, sore throat is back, called in sick for a training day, and I think I’m just going to sit on the couch and drink tea. One of the first symptoms of the tonsillitis (which I’m going to beat, btw — I’m supposed to have my tonsils out again in two weeks, but I’m really trying to fix myself holistically so I can avoid it) is exhaustion, which is weird, since it’s just my throat. But I will heed this and go lie down some more. Me and Digit, beating the crud. Yep.

And kittens help.

To those of you who care about the writing or care about the knitting, I apologize. Apparently this is a cat blog for now, and that’s just the way it is. So there.

I love that stupid cat. Had you noticed?

Took him to the vet this morning — and they kept him there for a few days. I HATE that, but I also know that he’s in the best place. They’re putting him back on the IV for fluids and pain medicine — hopefully if he’s hydrated and in less pain he’ll quit straining on the box and start eating again (he’s lost another whole pound, down to 7.1 — good god, that cat got up to 19 pounds once, a long, long time ago when he was depressed and trapped inside). And if he starts eating again, he can have his surgery on Thursday.

    Anorexic Digit, looking for his cell so he can call his agent

But for now his hospital room at home (the front porch) is sadly empty and I miss him and I feel awful for leaving him there again.

You know what is a very, very, very nice part? The fact that I drove away crying a little bit, but ONLY over Digit, and I have no worries, none at all, about financing this. I am taking the advice of many people — holding on to the money (in a kind of paypal escrow) until Digit is all good and better, and only THEN donating the rest. But you’ll be the first to know when I’m donating, and how much. I can’t WAIT for that day. Because if I’m donating whatever overage there might be from your lovely generosity, then Digit is sound and healthy and in good spirits.

Or dead. That does cross my mind, that he might not make it, after all this, after his epic trek home. (Did I tell you about his claws? His massive, always curled under no matter how much I clipped them, claws? And how now they’re tiny little straight spikes from being worn down from walking for four months?) And honestly, I can’t bear to think about it, so I’m putting it out of my mind once again. That cat HAS to make it. Forget my brief forays into Buddhist study, THIS GUY IS GONNA LIVE FOREVER. And me saying it, yeah, that’ll make it so. Right?

Right?

Cat blog. See? And I’m not apologizing.Oh, wait, I already did. Well, all right.

For those of you who prefer people and dogs and knitting and all things that aren’t cats, I will briefly tell you about Bolinas. On Saturday, the Whoreshoes had a gig at Smileys. Oh, Smileys Saloon on the beach. Red Silvia came with her posse and my friend Nate took plenty of pictures with her camera. It strikes me now that she was a trooper for lending it to him.

I celebrated my birthday there, because I like to spin out my birthday as long as people will let me, and I even made a guest appearance! I sang "Once Again ‘Round That Dance Floor" by kd lang, and people seemed to enjoy it. Of course, there was bourbon involved (not me, them), so who knows?

And I FORGOT THE FIRST LINE. I hadn’t been practicing because my throat had been hurting all week and I assumed we weren’t going to do it. But on Saturday, I suddenly felt better, and we decided to move ahead. I sang the song over and over to myself in my head. I was only having trouble with remembering the second verse and moving into the break. The first line, WHICH IS THE TITLE, no, it never crossed my mind that it COULD be forgotten.

I sang a little phonetic "do wee deee oh flow yeah" thing that sounded like the right song dubbed in the wrong language, and then I got it back and didn’t have another problem. The cute part was that Lala was standing right next to me, and sang the rest of the song softly so that had I forgotten again, she would have cued me. It was very sweet.

And there were cupcakes. Hooray!

 

It is true love when you feed your cat his wet food with your bare hands because that’s the only way he’ll eat it. Sigh. He’s not feeling too well again today, not eating or drinking as much as we’d like. It’s probably back to the vet tomorrow. We were hoping that he’d be strong enough for his bladder stone surgery on Thursday, but he won’t be if he keeps eating like this…… Of course, the reason he’s not eating or drinking is that to get rid of such things HURTS. He’s always in the box, swaying quietly and stubbornly as nothing happens. My poor boy.

And me, I’m off to work today, working for a friend on my day off. I’d much rather be at home, with him, making him eat against all his better instincts. (I hold it right under his nose, and it’s as if he licks the food against his will. Pretty cute, actually.)

https://rachaelherron.com/it-is-true-love/

All right. Here we go.

I’m so nervous!

I put all you darlings who donated into a spreadsheet. Every ten bucks got you a chance. I’m running a random number sequencer to figure out that…..

[drum roll]

Scout of Scout’s Swag won the Rowan Bomber!

Becca F. from Berkeley won the Artfibers Alpaca!

Sara A. from Grand Rapids won the Philosopher’s Wool Kilim Jacket!

You all made such a difference. Digit thanks you (although he’s not feeling so well today, poor little dude), and I thank you, will all my heart.

Oh, I had the best Fourth of July. It was the first I’ve ever spent by myself — because my birthday is the next day, I usually try to make a party out of seeing the fireworks, and there is always something Going On.

But last night I had worked all day, and working fire dispatch on fourth of July is a chore. I worked a couple of several-alarm vegetation fires that just about killed me (new computer system, we’re all struggling). So by the time I got home, I was too tired to trek into the City where Lala had a show, and everyone seemed to be doing something far away, and I didn’t want to drive, so I settled on the couch and ate crab cakes that I found in the freezer, made a Tom Collins, and watched Sex and the City reruns. It was awesome, actually. Just what I needed to relax.

Then the booms started. And got bigger. I live in an area of East Oakland where, although even sparklers are illegal, people still have fireworks as big as any in an officially sanctioned city show, you know, the HUGE ones, and as night dropped, and the sky started to light up, I got more and more anxious to see fireworks.

But I still didn’t really want to go anywhere. So I went up the hill that I can see from the living room window. I sat on on the side of the road, and oh my god, it was amazing. It was clear last night, the only Fourth I can ever remember being like that in the Bay Area, EVER, and I could see the San Mateo Bridge, most of Oakland, all of Alameda, right over the Bay to San Francisco, and all the way around to Mount Tam.

The Oakland floor below me was SO GORGEOUS. Wherever I turned my eyes, at least three or four huge fireworks were exploding in my line of sight, and scores more flashed to the left and right, filling my peripheral vision. It sounded like what I imagine war would sound like, the hills echoing and filling with the booms and blasts. It was devastatingly thrilling, but only a few people were pulled over on the hill with me. One young family held up their baby and pointed, "Que bonita! Mira! Mira!" Then they left, and an older woman pulled up with her granddaughter and we all stood marvelling at this, the best show in the Bay Area. It was warm, and clear, and bright, and LOUD, and wonderful.

Know what else is wonderful?

My cat. Digit is getting better and better. I found him yesterday with his e-collar off. Yes, he does have thumbs, but that’s ridiculous. We were lucky and he hadn’t yet ripped out his drain or any stitches. While I was struggling to get it back on him, he got pissy and started growling and hissing. He struck out at me with his many claws a few times, and I growled and snapped back. I was mightily irritated until I realized that HE’S BACK! My jerkface cat is just that again, a jerkface. And if he’s acting like an ass and scratching me, he’s feeling SO MUCH BETTER. Yay! Hooray for my little jerkface! (Who purrs often and cuddles and belies his jerkiness, but we won’t tell.)

Wanna see?

Big Paws Frankenbutt

Scritch! He has two eyes! Ole Winky no longer.

And Erika did this for me:

HA! Hahahahaha.

Sweater drawing will be held on Saturday! I am using the time between then and now to put all you darlings into the database that Fund-Raising-Fool Claudia sent me. I don’t know what I’d do without it….. So stay tuned!

As I was falling asleep, I said to Lala for the eleventy-millionth time, "I’m so glad Digit is home." She said, "Well, he wouldn’t miss your birthday."

My birthday is Thursday, and it’s still the best present ever. (However, I did get my present from Lala yesterday, a Raleigh Coaster which is SO RAD — I shall show you later this week — just took it out for my first ride this morning.) (Lala says I should make sure to tell you that this wasn’t bought with Digit money. But hello, you know that.)

But I know what you’re here for. Say hello to my little man.

He is so SKINNY! And I know he doesn’t look that good, but the best part is that he doesn’t look dead at ALL. And more alive by the minute. He has a HUGE appetite, eating three cans of food a day. And me, I spend all my time giving him FIVE medicines, including one that is 3/4 of a pill (?) and one, get this, that I have to chop into quarters and then crush one of those quarters and mix it into a water slurry and give it to him by mouth with a syringe. We have a good time at Chez Hehu, yes we do.

And this is the view from the living room, looking at him in his chair, looking out into the front yard.

I left the wheel out there in case he gets bored. He’s already spun straw into gold (oh, wait, that was YOU), so he’s just restin’ now.

Now I’m going to use my day to clean the house (Clara learned how to open the trash can this week, so it needs it in a very real way) and then take the dogs to the beach. Then I will kiss my birthday cat again. And again. And one for you, too. MWAH.