Please rain (but not during the day next week).

We need rain. We need rain big time here in our little area of the state. We already have a mandatory two-day-a-week watering ban, but I don't think that's being observed by everyone (some people's lawns are suspiciously green, but I assure you, ours is not). The ban could be upped to more days, and I wish it were. I'm getting nervous about how dry it is around us. Not only is the grass as brown and dry as straw, but the plants are brown, most of the flowers are wilted and not blooming, and if you do water anything the water doesn't soak in. It just runs through the soil, which is as fine and sandy as, well, sand at this point. Just four weeks ago, when my mother and brother came up to help with the fence, we planted a series of new plants in our newly cleared out side garden. One of them was this daisy plant. Note that I took this photo a couple of weeks ago, and trust me, this plant looks healthy compared with how it looks now. The weather forecasters keep predicting rain and thunderstorms for our neck of the woods, but we never get anything. Every once in a while we get a drop or two, but nothing more than that. And I'm not really exaggerating. It's incredibly, incredibly dry, and each day when I look at the sun I tell it to go behind some rain clouds and come back again when the ground is nice and soaked and the plants have had their fill.

Of course, I want rain but I don't want rain next week, especially in the day time. That's because we're on vacation and we've got lots planned! One of the things we hope to do is a day trip to Isle au Haut. I've become obsessed with this little island recently and must get there. Must hike along the trails on the part of the island preserved in Acadia National Park. Must take the mailboat to get there. Must be outdoors.

We'd also like to see some puffins, and apparently on Machias Seal Island you can take puffin tours. Sign me up for one of them, please! Doug and I have been toying with the idea of trying out birding, and what better way to start than by seeing puffins.

But lest you think that we'll be outdoorsy and active all week, I will remind you that we plan to eat well, too. I'll be carving out a bit of time for a slice (or two) of pie at Moody's Diner, and doing my part for Europe's economy by purchasing some imported treats at Morse's. I prefer the imported candies, but I'm sure some sauerkraut will make its way home with us. Doug is not one to refuse fermenting cabbage.

Living for the weekends.

It's sad, but it's true - I mainly live for the weekends now. And what I mean by that is that the vast majority of the fun things that I post about here on the blog happen on the weekend. I really wish that weren't true, but it seems to be happening more and more now. My weeks blend together and the routines keep me busy, such that the spontaneous fun happens between quitting time Friday and late Sunday night. I'm sure I'm not alone with this window of fun, and I'm also sure I'm not alone in lamenting it.

So a couple of weekends ago, Doug and I crammed in as much fun as possible, especially on Sunday. I woke up early even for me - 6:05!- and I had the dishes washed, the cats fed and watered, and all my silver jewelry polished by 7am. I then watered some plants, hit the gym, and came home to shower (because we've been hit by a never-ending heatwave, one that won't release us from its humid grip) before Doug and I joined the hundreds of other people checking out the BSAAC's annual Endicott Show. We knew a huge event was happening, because on Friday night people were postering around the neighborhood about "No Parking This Side of Street," and the Porta-Potties were coming out in droves. We missed the show last year, but this year we managed to get in a good forty-five minutes before leaving to watch the World Cup final match in Maine. The Endicott Show is an antique show, but it's focus is not on Model Ts or those kinds of antiques. This one is a free-for-all. Anything that is technically an antique (which is, what - any car twenty-five years or older?) could be shown, and many, many of these cars were for sale. I really liked looking at the old cars, and the ones from the late 1950s though the late 1960s were my favorites, mainly because of the retro detailing. Check out these tires! And check out this great logo! It was fun, too, to see the different kinds of cars that aren't made anymore, like this Chevy Corvair bus/truck thing and this Ford Fairlane. My family actually had a Fairlane when I was young. I remember it - it was white with burgundy interior. I remember when it was taken away on a flatbed, too. We had several cars taken from our yard on flatbeds back in the day. It was always a sad occasion to watch them go. I always got attached to our cars, because I'd think about the fun places we went in them. I felt similarly when we got rid of the Subaru. I'm sure I'll feel the same if we ever get rid of either of the Minis.

So, that was last weekend. And then this weekend we spent two glorious, glorious nights in New Hampshire, staying at my aunt's cottage with my mom, aunt, cousin, and my sister's family. My aunt and my uncle have houses on Crystal Lake, and while we don't get up there much anymore (I feel like I've posted about this before... and I have. See all posts tagged "New Hampshire."), it's always so good to be there. We got a lot of kayaking in this weekend (and thanks to my sister and her family for letting us use the kayaks - and my life preserver!), lots of walking, lots of eating, a bit of swimming, and, of course, many hours spent together. The kayaking was great - Doug and my mom enjoyed their time on the lake and my sister and the kids did, too. Frankie, Maddy and Mike spent some time fishing, catching mostly sunnies, running out of worms at one point and needing to get more. I'm glad that Frankie and Maddy have no problem with putting the worm on the hook or taking the fish off the hook - those are the two main reasons I am not a fisherperson. Those and the fact that I'd rather be kayaking. Or reading. Or baking. Because in the middle of the kayaking and fishing and swimming and outdoors activities, Doug and I managed to get in a trip to the King Arthur Flour store in Norwich, VT. While there, I fancied myself a world-class baker, while Doug fancied himself King Arthur himself. It was a mighty-fine weekend indeed.

K is for kitty!

One more page has turned in the painful life chapter of Wyatt's passing. I picked up his remains tonight. They came in a very nice little wooden box, accompanied by a pamphlet for some very fancy urns and things. Doug and I still have not decided what to do with him. I am flip-flopping between scattering him along an ocean, because Doug and I enjoy the sea, but I also like the idea of keeping him near us, so maybe burying him in our backyard. I'm sure I'll keep you posted on what we decide.

But we also have other decision to make. Like - do we get another animal, and if we do, do we get a cat or a dog? We have decided to get another animal, and we are leaning towards getting another cat. We loved Wyatt because of his dog-like qualities (the following us around, the loyalty, the interaction), but we work late hours and we don't know if that's a good environment for a dog. So corgi may have to be a retirement treat for us. (And I'm sorry - I cannot attribute that photo to anyone because I downloaded it long ago and do not remember from where.)

Now the question is - what kind of cat? Kitten? Purebred? Rescue cat? I am definitely leaning toward a rescue cat, but take a gander at these and realize how difficult it is to say no to a cat from a breeder. These are some Scottish Folds from a breeder in Montana: And these two cutie pies are from a breeder in Brooklyn: Blue Boy and Lilac Boy # 2 are both available now, but here's the kicker... they're available for upwards of $1500! I won't tell you their exact cost, because you may fall over from shock like I did, but I think you get the idea. The kitties from Montana are the same price. So it seems like we're running into a couple of things here with the Scottish Fold - there are few breeders, and the few breeders can charge a premium. Yes, yes, these kitties are just adorable, and I have no doubt in the world that they would make great friends, but we have great friends with us now and neither of them cost that much. Wyatt, actually, was the cheapest kitty of all of our cats, at the grand cost of $60 from the CT Humane Society. It pains me to have to say no to these cute little folded ears, but I just can't see spending that kind of money on a cat.

So, now we wait to hear about our application for the adoption of a Maine Coon/Norwegian Forest kitten. I submitted the application today. He's currently part of the Feline Friends rescue system, and I have to hope that he doesn't cost nearly as much as the above bundles of fuzzy cuteness. If Thor doesn't work out, then we will continue onward in our quest to complete our pet triangle. We got used to three animals. We like three animals. We like being outnumbered by paws and claws and all of that. And I'll be sure to keep everyone updated on progress.

Lebron to the Heat and other non-news.

I have retreated to the office for two reasons. Reason one: There's a nice ceiling fan in here, and fewer wads of cat hair floating around in the breeze. Reason two: I just watched a bit of the Lebron James show on ESPN, where he announced to the world on a nationally televised prime-time special that he was signing a contract with the Miami Heat, and I could no longer take that nonsense. I had to leave the TV. The whole thing was some kind of major production, and for what? For a basketball player who ultimately wanted to win and win now rather than stick by his loyal teammates and fans in Cleveland. So good-bye, Lebron. I'd rather spend time relaying the tiny details of my life than listen to your blathering.

So, tiny detail un: We're still missing Wyatt, of course, but I think we've moved past the darkest of times. We're able to talk about him without getting teary, and we're able to get back into "normal mode," meaning sitting on the couch, making dinner, watching TV, going to bed and waking up in the morning, without being constantly reminded of how we would do all of those things with him. At least I am. I think what's helping me is seeing him. He's my desktop wallpaper at work, and so I can look at him all day and think good thoughts about him. I'm not the type of griever who wants to rid herself of every memory of the past because the memories are too painful to bear. I like to be reminded of the memories, especially the good ones, and I think photos help with that. This means that I actually like being at work and looking at my computer screen. This could actually be a problem :)

Tiny detail deux: The day after we put Wyatt down I learned that my great-aunt Madeline passed away. She was 96, she had congestive heart failure, and she was tired of struggling, so it was not a surprise, but it's hard nonetheless, mostly because this leaves only one remaining Shea, down from the six who lived in the big, white Colonial across the yard and with whom I grew up. Tomorrow is her funeral. We're going down for it, of course, but being that we're still out of sorts because of Wyatt and being that it's going to be hard to see my 94 year-old great aunt Anna in that big house all by herself, it's not going to be the most pleasant of visits. This is what life is about, though. Dealing with the bad stuff, but trying to see the good. Like that we still have one remaining Shea and that we get to see her again tomorrow. This is a good thing.

Tiny detail trois: Doug and I are done with our fence project! We finished this past weekend with the help of my mother and Aunt Alice, two incredible troopers who came up on Friday and spent the day at our house painting the fence while Doug and I were at work. I got out a little early that day to help with the last bit of the fence, Doug too, and by 7pm we were officially done. What a project! Now I know why Tom Sawyer tricked his friends into painting the fence for him. If I had gullible friends I might have tried the same thing.

Anyway, I know I've posted about the fence before, but here's a brief recap. We had this old, rotten fence in our front yard, and several windstorms and blizzards (and, of course, the elderly neighbor who drove into it) brought it to its end. I was not sorry to see the original fence go, and even helped along its demise a little. So in May we had a new fence put in. A cedar fence with no finish or stain, because having the fence company paint it for us would have added more to the cost than we wanted to spend. We decided that we'd paint the fence ourselves, and requested the help of my mother and brother. After much discussion, we also decided that we'd stain the fence a natural cedar color, which reminds us of the log cabin my uncle owns in New Hampshire. We figured we'd have the whole fence painted with two coats in one weekend. That was an ambitious goal, a little too ambitious, but we tried. We prepped the fence and put on the first coat of stain in one day, but we couldn't do much work on it the next day because a) the first coat hadn't dried yet, and b) we had birthdays to celebrate. My father, sister, brother, and nephew all have June birthdays, so we decided to have a gathering to celebrate. Here are most of the birthday-ers: And here is the birthday cake: Wish I could say that I made that cake myself, but no - I give all the credit to the Stop & Shop bakery (and highly recommend it!).

So, with the birthdays properly celebrated, we could then think about finishing the fence, which, as mentioned, my mother and aunt so kindly helped us with the following Friday. In addition to putting the second coat of stain on the fence that day, we were also very productive with the garden. The front gardens were basically all weeds. Notice in this photo how green and overgrown everything was in the front near the fence: We thinned things out nicely up in the upper right corner of the yard, and it looks quite nice, especially with the painted fence. Now we just have to mulch it. And then water it. And weed it. Maybe that's what I should have done to protest the Lebron hype. Spent my night in the garden. Since it's now cooler outside than it is inside, that would have been a smart move!

We are in mouring.

There's no way to sugar-coat this, and I am writing a post about it now just so that all of you out there who loved him, too, can know about this before Doug and I are really ready to talk about it, but we put Wyatt down yesterday morning. Wyatt is gone.

I mentioned in my last post that I was thinking about my cat who was acting disturbingly strange. That was Wyatt. He was not eating. Not talking. Not humping. Sitting gingerly, walking slowly, and just not acting like himself. Plus, he had become thin. Very, very thin. Which we attributed to his not liking the food we had bought (it was not the hairball control light formula, the little triangles, but instead simply hairball control, the little pellets). So we got him new food and gave him another week to see if that would encourage him to eat, but no. Saturday morning we took him in to our vet and we discovered he weighed only about five pounds, which was down from nine pounds when we took him to the vet in February, and had very englarged kidneys. The vet did a test and immediately recommended that we take him to an emergency clinic. He was in kidney failure. The vet said that the reasons could be either a kidney infection (best possible scenario), something else but I forget, or polycystic kidney disease, which is common in his breed and which would be the worst possible scenario.

We took our little buddy to the Tufts emergency clinic and after they did the ultrasound they let us know that he did indeed have polycystic kidney disease. It was so far along that he had almost no normal kidney tissue left; his kidneys were simply overtaken with cysts and there was nothing that they could do for him. We could take him home and give him fluids subcutaneously and that might give him a few days to a week to last, but that was it. We made the decision to put him down that morning because we didn't know what purpose giving him the fluids would serve. It certainly wouldn't help him, and how would it help us, being with him and knowing that each time we gave him his fluids it could be the last time? Looking at him each minute and thinking that the next minute he could be gone? We didn't want that. We didn't want that for him and we didn't want that for us. So we put him down. And now we're grieving for our little Wyatt who passed away at age ten, far too early.

What's ironic here is that we loved him so much because of his breed. He was docile. Cute. Sweet. Talkative. Such a good cat. A little alien baby. He was more like a teddy bear than an actual cat. And that was because he was a Himalayan. A breed I'd have recommended to anyone in a heartbeat, if they wanted to deal with all of that fur. But in the end it's his breed that cut his life short. His line carried this disease. And while we always knew that purebred animals were more delicate and tended towards poor health more than mixed breeds, we just never really thought that Wyatt would be susceptible. At least not at age ten.

We had Wyatt for six years. He was a fantastic cat. I doubt we'll ever have a cat like him again. How lucky were we to have found him in the shelter that day and to have taken him home! He buried himself deep into our hearts, and losing him is tough. So very tough. It will be a long time before thinking about him doesn't get us emotional. Before doing things like the morning feedings for the other two cats doesn't make us get weepy at the thought of that third food dish going unused. We're trying to distract ourselves this weekend by getting out of the house, but what's the point of getting out of the house when you don't really want to go anywhere? We're taking this one hard. It was so unexpected. So sudden. And, of course, so unfair.

Here's one of the last photos I have of Wyatt. I have a couple of others, but what I notice now in those is that he didn't look like himself. Besides being thin, his eyes were not normal. He looked disturbed. Uncomfortable. I can get upset at myself, thinking that if we had been observant enough earlier we maybe could have found out earlier, but all that would have done was bought us a couple of more weeks with him, weeks spent knowing that we'd so soon have to lose him. His disease was at a stage where there was nothing that would be done. We did what was right, but that doesn't make losing him any harder. We miss this little guy, and we feel so grateful to have had him in our lives.