Rachael

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.

Okay, you people. PEOPLE!

I am overwhelmed. In one day (ONE DAY) you gave enough to cover Digit’s vet bills already incurred and those that are planned for the near future. We don’t have to put any of the bills on the charge card. NONE OF THEM.

How did you do it? The majority of you gave $10 and $20, and it just added up! A few people gave more, and made me literally gasp, looking at the screen.

And the thought occurred to me that I could just keep it going. You could keep pouring your hard-earned dollars into my paypal account, and Lala and I could eat sushi every night. I could get a bicycle! She could buy a windmill!

BUT. I believe you all took care of Digit because you are good, and kind, and sweet, and wonderful, and it would be wrong to take advantage of even one dollar that has been sent. Even though I really like to eat sushi. {Shoot.} 

So I was going to just shut down the whole drawing today and while jumping up and down and squealing like one of our kittens, tell you that WE HAVE THE MONEY OH MY GOD I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!!! But Lala mentioned that some of you who have yet to read this site this week might still want to get in on the raffle action, so here’s what I think.

If you still want to get in on the sweater drawing (see below for details), please do so. But from here on out, all monies raised will go to the Milo Foundation and Best Friends Animal Society. Harriet came from Milo, and I’ve been to Best Friends and I think it’s one of the best places in the whole wide world. I’ll do the drawing next week (probably next weekend, Saturday?), and I’ll let you know then how much we’ll be donating.

Dude.

I’ve been at work the last few days, and my coworkers can’t get over all this. First they couldn’t believe the Digit-man story, and then, as I posted the drawing idea, they could NOT believe that you, my internet friends, were giving so sweetly, so generously, so quickly.  I could believe it, because I know the power of the knitters, but just barely, and I am still head-flappingly astounded.

So here, if you want in on the drawing, click here. $10/chance (so 5 chances for $50, etc.), as many chances as you’d like. You wonderful people, you.

Update: Digit came home today! Woot! He did very well during his small surgery (just to patch up his rear end), and is recovering well. We expect him to be strong enough for a second, bigger surgery in about two weeks. Sadly, I am at work, and I haven’t seen him yet, but I know Lala tucked him up in the front room with his new kitty bed (I’ve been sleeping with the interior cushion for the last three nights, so it will smell like me), and by now he’s seen the kittens (oh, how I wish I’d been there for that). He’s in the front glassed-in porch while he recovers — from there he’ll be able to look into the house and keep an eye on us at all times, but he’ll be safe from irritating dogs AND kittens. And he’ll be able to keep an eye on the neighborhood, as well. Should work. I hope. I’m a little scared of the patented YOWL if he doesn’t like it, but we’ll find out tonight.

Oh, you blessed people.

Thank you. 

HE LOOKS SO MUCH BETTER. Really, Lala told me that the reason she had yelled and called me in to the kitchen that night was that she didn’t think that he would live until I got out of bed to see him. Now he just looks like a weak little Digit with a too-big fur suit.  They took a 2inch foxtail out of his eye, poor thing, and he’ll be having surgery this afternoon to further clean out his back-end wound, but the major surgery will be put off until he’s gone home and gotten stronger. He has several bladder stones the size of peach pits, and a possible GI bleed, but I’m happy to say they’ve located his heart, and it is, indeed, beating. He is not a zombie!

And because several (more than several, you sweet things) people have mentioned to me that I should ask for help if needed, or offer a pattern for sale, to help with Digit-costs, I have been thinking about proposing something. At first, it made me feel funny to think about. And I don’t want to write a pattern, just don’t have time right now, although a pattern for a CalTrans vest for kitties was suggested…..

But honestly, we’re broker than broke right now. Digit is going to cost in the thousands by the time this is all done, and we just ain’t got it. We’ll charge it, of course, because pet injuries are what plastic was made for (that and trips to Europe, but I’ve curtailed that habit in recent years…..).

But hey. What about this?

I’ve got some sweaters I don’t wear, even though they’re kinda nice.

Maybe you’d like to enter a wee drawing to help defray vet bills?

Let’s say every $10 gets your name in the hat, so $40 would get you four entries. Although, to be honest, $2 would be appreciated at this point.

Let’s see what we’re offering:

The Rowan Bomber, from Denim People

Soft, in Paton’s Classic Merino, it’s only been worn once. It WILL pill, because it’s Classic Merino, but it will just get softer.

Artfibers Alpaca

 

This is my own design, in alpaca yarn, Jadis, from Artfibers. It’s sexy and fun, but it’s a little too warm for very, very hot-blooded me. I get grumpy wearing it, because I get too hot, and then no one likes being around me, so it’s better if a cool-blooded person wears it, I think. Worn once at Stitches and OHMYGOD was it hot in that convention center.

Philosopher’s Wool Kilim Jacket

I know, right? But doodles, it’s just too hot for me. And honestly, it’s not that soft, and I made it to LEARN two-handed stranded knitting, so if you win this, you will see its flaws. But it IS nice and I’m proud of it. But I don’t live in the snow. You should have it. Worn once out, and once when it was REALLY cold in the house.

So, that’s what I’m thinking. Make a donation by clicking the button below, and earn my undying love. No, wait, you already have that. You might win a sweater? Maybe? And you’ll know that you’re helping us, and more importantly, Digit-man. Otherwise known as Ole Winky.

By your kindnesses, by your responses, by one darling Paypal donor who shall remain anonymous, by the huge amount of love you’ve sent our way. I have a theory that Digit can only be helped and boosted by what you’re sending his way (if you’re late joining us, yes, THAT Digit).

Because updates have been requested, I just talked to the doctor — Digit’s resting today, still on IV fluids and antibiotics. He ate a little bit, which is huge, and they’re syringe feeding him, as well. He has bladder stones as big as peach pits which will have to be removed when he’s strong enough for surgery, which he isn’t yet, and he has something wrong with his stomach, perhaps a GI bleed, possibly from ulcers.

Add to that the massive wound in his tail end, it sounds like a lot, and sounds like very little, after having made his way home.

Mom has a theory that I like the best. It was early March when he disappeared — it was cold then. Perhaps he was out one chilly evening, and jumped into the back of a moving truck, or a pickup, or an open window of a warm-looking sedan, and hitched an accidental ride to who-knows-where. That makes more sense than someone picking him up and dumping him far away….. Who knows where he went? I doubt he went over one of our bridges, but I think he went far. Very far.

But now I know where he is. And I get to see him when I get off work! Can’t WAIT.

Also, Erika made me a lolcat. (And you should go see hers….)

HAAA! (This was taken when he was big and tough. Will take pics of him soon, and then we’ll watch him get better together, shall we?)

You all are darlings, and I love you. Really.

DUDE. Know what I did on Saturday? I rode on a motorcycle. In Dykes on Bikes, in the Dyke March.

I’ve been trying to hitch a ride for YEARS.

It was seriously one of those dreams come true — the dream that seems silly, and IS silly, but it’s still a dream, and then it happens and it’s BETTER than you thought.

My friend Geena’s girlfriend was at a wedding, so I asked if I could be on the back of her motorcycle. Actually, I don’t even think I asked. Geena just knew that I would desperately want to ride with her, so she told me it was going to happen. I didn’t even trust it would, until that day. It seemed too good to be true.

The best part of Pride, for me, is Pink Saturday. That’s the day that thousands and thousands of women meet in Dolores Park, and listen to bands, and raise money for good things, and then walk through the city streets, smiling, and dancing, or just walking. You get everyone, the girls from out of town, out of state, who have never seen a group of lesbians like this, to the mothers who bring their kids and march with them, to the older women, who might be grandmas but ain’t out of the running, no way.

And that’s a CRAPload of people, all in one place, and it raises Lala’s Group Of People I Don’t Know hackles, so it was big of her to go with me. I treated her nicely and sat her in a cafe in the far corner, so she could sing along to Thriller (and dance, too):

and we got ice cream (Mariko, it’s the salted caramel with chocolate salty Fleur de Sel topping, from BiRite Creamery):

Then we met up with Geena and friends, and I got on the bike, we sat there, the engines roaring, deafeningly loud against the walls and sidewalks, and then we sat some more while hundreds of people lined the route and cheered, and then we were off and sailing through the city streets (okay, it took a while to get any speed while the cops cleared traffic ahead of us, but it FELT like we were going fast sometimes), and I had those incredible moments when you meet someone’s eyes and you have a moment. But I had a lot of them, people standing on the side, smiling right into my eyes as I grinned at them, and it was the best feeling, that.*  And then we cruised around the turn at 16th and Mission, and confetti streamed down on us from a high apartment, and my eyes went up into the sky, and I realized that this was one of the best feelings EVER.

Lala and I had walked past the Women’s Building earlier in the day — the murals are incredible, and Lala’s friend Moira is listed as one of the people responsible for its beauty.

We rode past it on the bike, and suddenly I knew where I was, and then we were turning around on Mission and coming back to the truck (every year we set up a dance area, and dance with the crowd as it comes marching by). (This is way more fun and less work than walking all that way. Plus if you throw Hershey kisses, you tend to GET kisses. Not that I’ve done that since I’ve been married, no. Uh-uh.)

Then we had sushi, and then we went home, and it was a completely wonderful Pink Saturday. My favorite ever. Yay.

*The most incredible time I ever had that moment of connection with someone I didn’t know, Lala and I were at a march in the city. The march itself was a very large group of Pro-Life people who had come into the city on buses from all over the state. They were marching in protest against abortion. In answer, thousands of us Pro-Choicers met them, and lined their route in protest. We raised our signs, and they marched past us, with their signs, the always-charming bloody fetus kind of signs, you know the type. Lots of sinners going to hell signs. The anger low in my guts was awful, but we stood there silently, as people passed just inches from us. Then a small old lady with white hair under her baseball cap, who was marching with Them, looked at Lala and me and smiled the sweetest smile and raised her fingers in the vee for peace. Lala and I lifted our hands at the same time, and we gave her the peace sign back, and there was real compassion between the three of us, and it was one of the most powerful things I’ve ever witnessed.