Growing Never Gets Old...In Theory

When I see a dog, naturally (being an animal lover), I want to pet it. If I'm being honest, I probably want to squeeze its face, have a conversation with them and rub my cheeks violently against the unsuspecting creatures forehead. But that, my friends, is socially unacceptable and might very well grant you a restraining order or a one way ticket to a psychiatric center. If not both. 

It's the same with cats for me (probably worse, really). I really don't care if they rake their claws down my cheeks, tearing gaping gashes in to my flesh; I just want to hug and kiss the living daylights out of their qwoot widdle fwaces!

Ahem...

...moving right along...

I like to imagine that's how people would be if they saw Finn. In fact, my imagination involves people spotting my dog and suddenly turning in to rabid, foamed-mouth creatures that can't stop baby-talking to my dog because he's just. that. darn. cute. 

I have the slightest notion that because I have such high standards for random encounters: I'm not meant (or ready) to have them.

In my mind: I'd like to show off Finn to the world. In reality: it's probable that I would try to take the quickest route to detour off the road of talking to any human being. Finn and I are a lot alike in that way, I guess.

It has now been officially two years (as if not saying "officially" doesn't make it official. But you know, whatever: now it's official) that I've had Finn relegated in to my family and not much has deviated from what it has normally been. But it's the baby steps that often mean the most in making strides towards better outcomes.

And Finn has made plenty of baby steps this year.

To name a few things: he tried swimming for the first time, he sleeps in the open of our living room (not behind furniture), and, though it's rare, he speaks without prompting when he wants to play.

Finn is, by no means, a normal dog, but I've stopped making that my ultimate goal with him. He's not like other dogs...and I like him just the way he is. In fact, I like him better because he doesn't want to go out and meet other dogs or people. He's happy just being with me and his family. He doesn't complain when I've kept him cooped up inside the house most of the day, just as he doesn't complain when I take him outside to play. Finn's an incredibly tolerant and content dog. To sum it up: He's usually happy when I'm happy.

It's been an unfortunate work of nature for both of us that I haven't been as jovial as my usual personality dictates. I've noticed (even in my last few blog entries) that the cheerful, insane me has taken a back seat due to my health issues that I have been committed in pursuing. The crazy me resurfaces every now and again, but not as often as she used to. That part of me would be the only thing I miss about the old me, though.

The common ground for which Finn and I stand together on for this passing year would have to be: evolving. It might sound odd and it may just make you think of Pokemon (unless you're not nerdy like me. Which then: boo you); regardless the two of us have had to ditch our old ideals in order to embrace a better life and a better mind set.

For me, that meant ditching my incredibly wishful idea of what friends should be, moving past my ridiculously self-inflicted hurt and gathering myself up in a way where the only people I need are the people who genuinely show they care about me and want to be involved in my life. All I need is what I have right here: my family. I no longer need outside connections to satisfy my mind, though I won't say that I don't enjoy having them (I simply don't rely on them the way I used to). 

It also meant forcing myself to focus on myself and not everyone else. For me, that's a lot harder than it sounds. For one thing I've had to get over not being able to possess a job, which made it able for me to buy everybody fantastic gifts or (as I did more often) treat people out to lunch. I've come to realize in the past year, while I learn about my health problems and focus on healing (or simply managing) them, I wasted a lot of time and money on people who, when it came to push or shove, fell to the wayside as soon as I had a problem. Luckily, most went to my family (which I feel is time and money well spent). It still bothers me at times, but you win some, you lose some. It's not all that bad anyway. You root out the bad, find time for the good, discover more about yourself and end up happier with the result. Personally, I think it's a great outcome. 

For Finn, the evolving has been more of working on his fears. He's still the jumpiest dog I've ever known to date, but he's been forced to cope with little environmental changes which seem huge to him. I mean, any change distorts his zone of comfort, but with Finn, his number one salvation has been furniture. Chairs are versatile, large and, most importantly, a dog Finn's size can hide with great ease behind them. His whole world has revolved around creating that hiding spot behind my dad's recliner. Until one day: my dad moved the furniture around. To create better seating for my mother's back problems, my father moved the sofa in front of Finn's hiding spot. Finn loved this idea because now he had a wider hiding space where no one could see him. On top of that, it was an incredibly difficult place to remove him from. So, evil mom here stepped in. I ended up blocking off any entrance Finn could squeeze through to access the spot behind the sofa and: WA-LA. Problem solved.

Well, sort of.

The first few days---ah who am I kidding? The first few weeks after this change, Finn couldn't find reason to continue existing. He must have thought his life was over, all the pacing, whining and sad looks he gave were only complete with him trying desperately to find salvation in another hiding spot. And while Finn naturally has a sad look to his face (only occasionally dissipating when he's outside or in a seriously playful mood), those weeks were easily the saddest I've seen him look.

He attempted shoving his body behind a cat crate, effectively feeling as though he established another hiding space as no one could see him from any sitting angle. So when I removed that obstacle as well, he protested by sitting at the very end of our hallway, in the farthest, darkest corner. It didn't take much aside from me sternly calling his name for him to rejoin the family in the living room. He came begrudgingly so; still: he came.

Despite that he couldn't sit still long enough to save his life, Finn displayed more moments of brave-curiosity those few weeks than I had see in our entire two years together. Without prompting, he frequently visited both of my parents, but, perhaps, more astoundingly so: my dad. Finn slowly started exploring the living room and testing out various spots to which he would lay and try to get comfortable enough to sleep. I should mention, he did all these things with my parents in the room, since he's always comfortable around me alone. He slept below my legs for a couple of nights, then simply next to where I sat. He tried laying in front of my parent's chair and in front of the grandfather clock, which only just barely gave him some cover. Finally, he settled on the last place I would have expected him to end up: in front of our television set. The focal point of our living room. The area has no coverage at all and whatever he decides to do is exposed to anyone and everyone sitting in the room. Pretty ballsy place to pick, if you ask me.

That doesn't absolve this change from coming with its own set of problems.  For example: Finn has gotten brazen in a way that isn't so smart. He's defied me a few times and hid behind the couch. Once when I wasn't looking, another time when I was right there and the third time was coupled with the second time, after I had just got after him for going back there. Yep, he purposefully defied me, though I don't think he registered it that way, himself. And though he was confused it still landed him in hot water (which, for him, mostly means telling him "no", pulling him out of his hiding place and then ignoring him for some time. With how attached to me that he is, I think he'd rather I yell at him, haha). 

It's sad, but he still flinches in preparation of a beating when he gets in trouble. I don't think he'll ever truly overcome the fear of abuse, though he doesn't get in trouble much anyway; it isn't like he prompts much behavior to land him in trouble.

Still, I believe this change is full of more production for Finn rather than set backs.

I also mentioned he learned how to swim this year, didn't I?

Of course, I don't know for sure if he had prior experience and knew how to swim already, but he sure didn't act like he knew what he was doing. 

The first few tries all he would do was get his feet wet, but his face and demeanor screamed that he wasn't prepared to go further than the shallow shore. I ended up needing to encourage and gently tug him in to the deeper water, myself. It slightly freaked him out at first. His eyes could only bulge from their sockets as he bobbed above the water, heading as quickly as he could manage back to solid ground (which wasn't far anyway). After that, he realized it wasn't as bad as he made it out to be and only argued a couple of times upon me pulling him back in with me. I think it made Finn feel better that I was always in the water with him, no matter what.

My dad and I ended up taking him back to the park a couple of times towards the end of the summer to expose him to the water. He seemed to have fun once we got to our quiet, secluded destinations. It was the paths there, riddled with people (by riddled I mean one or two people every hour or so. It was never actually crowded unless defined by Finn's world) that bothered him most about our journey, but he did relatively well despite his mounting fears.

Throughout the year, Finn has made small leaps, the ones I just described are probably just his more significant milestones. He never stops improving though, even with me being sick.

On to other matters!

After all this time has passed, I figured those of you still reading this deserved some kind of kitten update, seeing as I've gotten quite a few pictures and I haven't shared (I know, I'm so selfish).

Now, be forewarned: not all news is good news. I'll give you the bad news first so that we can end this entry on a high note:

Nube' has very likely passed on.

I say "very likely" because his owners no longer know where he is, or at the very least, I have not heard that they do. I think, though, even if I were to hear an update, I would be hard-pressed to believe it.

When I adopted Nube' out, I made the adopters promise me only one thing: to not make Nube' an outdoor cat. To make a long story short: that promise was broken and he has now ended up lost.

Just because we consider some people our friends does not mean that that makes them trustworthy. I ended up giving the benefit of the doubt, like my heart always tells me to, but if I had to give advice to someone else adopting out animals, my first and main advice would be: always, always, go with your instincts when screening potential adopters. Don't ignore it and don't feel you owe it to anybody to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Now: happy times!

Those two girls who I told you didn't update me often, have found time using social media to post photos of their cats.

It's probably not outwardly to update me, but, lets be real, I love it all the same. I love each and every single snapshot they take and make viewable even for me.

I can't begin to explain how giddy and excited I get when I see a picture of them. I'm like a kid with a serious sweet tooth who tore loose from his parents and just found himself lost smack dab in the middle of a candy store.

Sugar high, anyone?

Persephone has found her permanent home and name as 'Anastasia' and just from photos you can tell she receives plenty of love.

Napoleon, having started out as the runt of the group, is now a hulking kitty! While, that might be all fur weight, he's looking like a pillow! An adorable, fluffy, incredibly loved pillow.

These two have grown so beautifully and the two sisters have given them each the love they deserve. Probably more so!

And, look, I don't want to brag or anything...but I'm pretty sure this kid...

...gets it the best out of all of them. Because she's spoiled by the greatest mom ever: Me!

Some days I find myself still wishing I hadn't had to separate them, but Napoleon and Persephone (Anastasia) would have not been able to be as spoiled as they are now with their lovely sister-duo owners. Those girls make it look easy.

Plus, I would have never known what a good fostering experience feels like without those sisters. I owe my thanks to them for allowing me to know what it feels like to have a foster experience that made me truly believe that fostering does save lives and can, potentially, benefit the animals.

Currently, I'm taking my mistakes, turning them in to lessons learned in this crazy world of fostering business and trying to help a friend in a position of not being able to keep some kittens that her cat recently had. Though these kittens are fortunate enough to have their cat mother, adopting out is never an easy task.

I could never find outside help from anyone when I had to foster four kittens (and I had no experience), so I hope that even if it's a little I can extend what I've learned from my experience to help others.

And, hey, just in case you happen to find yourself in the situation of fostering (whether the animals fell in to your lap by a twist of fate or not), this site has some pretty helpful tips that I wish I had had when I was not only fostering, but also adopting out.

For cats: https://www.petfinder.com/animal-shelters-and-rescues/fostering-cats/tips-for-giving-up-foster-cats/

For Dogs: https://www.petfinder.com/animal-shelters-and-rescues/fostering-dogs/tips-for-giving-up-foster-dogs/

For the record, the advice is the same. The only difference is the species of animal.

Good Luck!

2014, Please Be Gentle Enough to Be Kind

Typing this entry has been like traveling through a garden maze for me. I've tried a thousand different turns, yet each of those turns either led to another turn, a pretty little fountain amidst the hazard of vegetation or a hedge wall. 

In short, I've typed quite a few beginning paragraphs and in the end, rejected each one. I felt as though I were in high school all over again attempting to pound a thesis out of bullshit and knowledge I previously learned that would never assist a day in real life (yeah thanks for that useful drill about Pythagorean theorem. I use a2+b2=c2 daily). 

It's never been a lack of material to use. Rather, it's a matter of motivation. 

I had high hopes that by the next time I would be writing this blog entry that I would be relaying information about my fantastic new job and new friends. Now, if you count constantly contracting various illnesses as a job and my fingers with sharpie faces on them as my friends...

...then I guess this entry is about my fantastic new job and new friends. 

If not...get out of my fantasy land, you're pooping on my parade.

First, we'll begin with my friends:

Starting with the pointer finger and going left to right (your left, not mine in the picture): There's Pointessa, Midelle, Rin, and Pinky. The thumb's name, a separate entity from both the fingers and being my friend, is: Fenwick.

Now you may be asking "what can fingers do? They're not people." And I must agree, fingers certainly are not people. But hear me out. They are, in fact, an extension of people, therefore just as capable of anything a human friend would be capable of (except using your bathroom or eating your food). 

They can tell me secrets:

Aside from secrets, my finger-friends are also extremely capable of telling inexplicably naughty jokes:

I can do anything with them that I could do with a normal human friend and more.

I can torture them:

No seriously...

If they were to ever plan a revolt, I could even nom on them from time to time to remind them who's boss:

The best part is they can't use me like people can because they're an extension of me. So, typically, what I want, they want. Phalange-friends are, unfortunately for them, not even able to turn me off or tune me out. 

It's like having four more brothers (five, if you count Fenwick). With girl names. And they can't ignore me, only coming back when they need or want something from me. 

They also can't treat their other friends better than me, when I've clearly done everything for them (I gave them life...with a sharpie). Because I am their only friend!  

And for that, I salute you, phalange-friends. You're the best friends I have ever known.

 (no, I do not really have to wear glasses. Frames with lenses I punched out make me feel savvy, witty and incredibly tough)

Moving away from my psychotic dribble...

For the longest time I've been applying for medical office desk jobs. 

I quit doing that as soon as my broski was involved in an accident at his work that left him with one less finger-friend than my own. Seeing as I handled that night like a brick wall...if a brick wall crumbles under the slightest notion that it's family member is in pain. 

I couldn't even listen to the gory (and not so gory) details of what he was going through without feeling the woozy dizziness that's so well associated with passing out. I could've sworn I was going to add to their patient list that night. 

For a while I wasn't even able to look at his new found nub. And while I called it squeamishness, I'm not really quite sure what it is. Or even how to explain it because once I told myself that he was okay, would be okay and wasn't hurting as bad, I was able to get a grip on my mind and stabilize the wash of feeling like I would soon pass out. Or puke.

Had it been someone else (not in my family, mind you) I have the slightest notion I would have handled it a lot better. But who knows? And because of it having made me feel like crap, I'm done wondering about it.

That same night my immune-system deficient mother (my poor Grammy!!) caught an illness from the sickies at the hospital and thus the whole family got sick. It was bad enough to where the doctor wanted to make sure the brosif and I didn't have pneumonia, so we had to get chest x-rays. Luckily, we tested negative. From then on it was a matter of taking over-the-counter medicinal substances (drugs) and waiting for the symptoms to dissipate.

Eventually they did. And then I re-contracted the same virus, just at a lesser extent than the first. 

So here I am at this moment in time, slowly clearing up from the second virus, hoping that I'm not jinxing myself by mentioning that. 

2013 was horrible in its whole essence for me and the bastard of a year just had to rub it in by going out with a bang for this family that, I'm sure, each one of us could have certainly done better without.

Now, you could go searching through my blog and find yourself asking "what was so bad about 2013?", but a lot of the "bad" for me went un-blogged. You could say it's because I'm not a fan of complaining (at least by mouth, obviously in blog-land I'm a whiner. And to my mom I wretch about everything, which makes this lie all the more obvious). The more truthful route would say I have to wield my words wisely because there is potential what is associated with a part of my negativity is able to view this.

With that, I'm left asking (begging), 2014, to please be kind. 2013 was a pony ride that left its rider dented. Not that it didn't have it's good moments. If we're judging the year as a whole, though...shoddy work, 2013.

I understand that sometimes it takes getting through the storm before you can find your way to sunshine. That's particularly why after seeing that 2013 was my storm, I can only hope 2014 will be my sunshine. 

For Finn, last year wasn't such a bad year. He tromped each mile stone like a pro as he learned all the quirks of his new, more-insane-than-most family. 

But I would still like to think that he's looking forward to this year more. Partly (mostly, mainly, only) because I loathed 2013, despite that all of its downs brought me to a better understanding of who I really am (scary, right?) and who I want to surround myself with (animals, parents, finger-friends...yeah, that's it. Introverts don't ask for much), but also because on New Years Day: Finn barked. 

And I don't mean he yelped a little. 

Frump-Stumps here flipped a switch entirely and went on crazy protection mode like I haven't seen since the first time he barked with me. 

It was similar in a lot of ways to the first case. 

My brotato had to make a last minute trip back home, only having called within the hour to say he was heading over. Needless to say, Finn wasn't expecting anyone, especially at the late hour. Usually when Broski comes home late, Finn's already in bed sleeping like a puppy (a cute puppy that sounds like a snoring monster truck). This time he was hanging out in his usual spot behind my dad's chair, chilling out and nomming on a treat. 

When the brosicle came to the door, Finn growled really low and promptly proceeded to bark his little noggin right off his shoulders. Between each bark he growled, but didn't back down. Even when Keith finally opened the door, Finn continued to growl at him like it was nobodies business (from behind the safety of dad's chair). I had to calm him down before he decided the family was safe enough to hold their own against this villainous brotato chip.

Once Keith was in the living room, Finn was back to his normal meek manners, backing down and contorting his body to vanish behind my dad and his chair. 

My dad, having been on the phone, had to spill the beans to his friend that his daughter adopted a furry, fuzzy mongrel that sounds a lot like a dog when he actually decides to speak. He was so sure that he would be able to keep Finn on the down-low since he rarely barks. 

I patted Finn on the back for showing his Gramps up and surprising him. Best way to welcome the New Year, I say.

Honestly though, Finn manages to surprise everyone of us in numerous ways. He awed my brofessor during the summer when he showed how well behaved he was outside with me while I washed cars, he wows his Grammy with how he responds to me and, well, the Gramps...everything Finn does impresses him (even stuff that drives mom mad...sneak-eating cat food or trash for instance).

Finn's full of new things I've yet to see or learn. If he's super-amazing he'll get me a job...

...if not, he's super-amazing for being able to love a strange human like me, where no other human can seem to tread (aside from the parental-units...they're contractually obligated to love me since they created this mess). 

On a smaller note, I'm dedicating this entry to a handsome fella that I, sadly, will no longer be able to squeeze.

Remember this guy?

Cooper crossed that esteemed rainbow bridge last year shortly after my last entry in October. I was unable to see him before he departed, but I sincerely wish I could have. I love and miss him.

Since he was a big part of Finn's introductory to his new life (and a huge link to my past), I wanted to dedicate a little spot of love just for him. 

R.I.P sweet Coops.