Posts filed under: ‘Animals‘
We celebrated J’s birthday this past weekend. He wanted to spend the day in Oxnard, and then have dinner later that night in Studio City. I had worked roughly 70 hours last week, but I mustered up all the energy I could for J’s big day.
At around 1pm, after walking by the pier and doing some trinket and hat shopping, we found ourselves seated at the Mexican restaurant we love that overlooks the harbor. As I sipped the remainder of my margarita towards the end of the meal, J motioned for me to come around to his side of the booth. He scooted over, and pointed towards the harbor pier. “Look, a seal!” he exclaimed. For about five minutes, I saw nothing. I grew impatient as the waiter handed me the bill. “Wait, look, it’s got its head popped out!” This time, I saw the harbor seal/sea otter. I couldn’t believe my eyes! I had never in my life seen a seal outside of an aquarium.
A few moments later, J and I were on the dock, thanks to my insistence of getting a closer look at the big sea creatures. Every time a seal (there ended up being two!) popped its head out of the water I’d squeal with delight. I kept lamenting to J that I wish it would pop all of itself out of the water, but J shook his head and laughed at me, insisting that that would never happen. “I think you’re having more fun on my birthday than even I am!” He had a point. J had seen these Oxnard seals before, but it was a first for me. Suddenly I was five, completely in awe of the glorious sea. Seriously, its moments like these that keep me sane & young.
Add a comment March 23, 2009
I think Bette (pictured right) & Sammy (on left) will be spending much more time on the window sill for the next eight weeks starting on Tuesday. Why, you ask? BECAUSE I FINALLY HAVE A JOB. It’s a production gig on a TV pilot. It’s not as ideal as a long term job with benefits, but it’s work/$. The best news of all is that I’ll be working with my favorite boss ever, Karen. I found out today, officially, but J and I already celebrated last night with martinis. One martini and I was DRUNK. That’s what a low tolerance after hardly drinking for a few months will get ya, but I loved it! Cheers! Oh, and that’s J’s hairy arm in the pic above, not mine :).
1 comment February 12, 2009
One of my New Year’s resolutions for ’09 is to make more friends. This is not to say that most of the friends that I have aren’t worthy of friendship anymore. Really, I feel as though it’s time for me to be more social.
Last week I ran into my next door neighbor, Allison, as I was coming back from my interview. She asked me how my cats were doing, and I said they were “same old, same old.” Secretly, I love it when people ask me about my cats. They’re like my children, after all! I asked Allison how her cats were doing. She said fine. She has five cats, and I look after them whenever she and her husband go away on trips. Not only are these simply five cats, but they are a family composed of a mommy cat, a daddy cat, and three cute ‘lil kittens.
I went on to tell Allison that I had gone to volunteer at an adoption event over the weekend. Yes, dear readers, this was the thing I had promised I would talk about. This is the thing that makes me even more of a crazy cat lady. I had gone to the event with the sole purpose of volunteering,(another beautiful one of my New Year’s goals) but immediately found myself driving one of the other volunteers to Lynn’s house where Lynn would show me her rescued FIV cat named Arnie. I could have protested to the volunteer, “No, I’m just here to volunteer. My boyfriend does not want another cat,” but instead I folded my hands and quietly acquiesced.
When we got to Lynn’s house, we went through the gate around back, and were greeted by two giant dogs. One was a doberman, and somehow, I made this dog so excited that he bit me on the finger. My months of watching The Dog Whisperer have clearly paid off. A few moments later, I stood in front of Arnie’s big cage. Arnie lived in a covered cage outside on the patio. Lynn appeared, and let me go inside the cage to pet Arnie. No doubt about it, Arnie was a cute, docile orange tabby. However, I didn’t feel a huge connection with him. He wasn’t overly friendly with me, but then again, neither was Bette when I had adopted her. Although Bette wasn’t the warmest when she first looked into my eyes, she chose me, and I felt a connection. Sammy had looked into J’s eyes, and done the same thing, only he had been Mr. Charmer.
Lynn wore a black shirt that had cat cartoons all over it. I’m not making fun of it. As a matter of fact, it was kinda cute. You couldn’t really see all the cat characters though because of all the cat hair that covered her shirt. When I asked her how many cats she had living inside the house with her, she said that she couldn’t tell me. “You don’t want to!”
I kept petting Arnie, and asking “What’s up, Dude?!?!” in my high-pitched kitty voice. He let me pet him. He seemed sad and content all at once. Two other cats lived in his cage with him. One of them was a fourteen year old female. She let me pet her too. Even though she was the hairiest calico I had ever laid eyes on, when I pet her all I felt was bone. The other cat, a male, was like Arnie in that he looked perfectly normal. When I asked Lynn what his story was she said that the poor guy didn’t know how to use the litter box. I thought to myself, “Hmm, this is the cage of rejects.” Across the way, there were two beautiful Himilayan cats in their own cage. The ladies told me that those cats had been adopted, and that the future owners would be coming for them tomorrow. Next to the “Reject Cage” was an empty cage. A younger cat had lived in that cage, and had been adopted a few hours earlier.
Lynn and the volunteer tried to convince me that adopting Arnie would be a-okay. FIV in cats is like HIV in humans, only humans can’t get it from the cat. It’s a very slow process of the weakening of a feline’s immune system. They told me that Arnie wouldn’t give my cats FIV unless both cats mixed blood. That could only occur through deep tissue wounds. The doberman came up to the cage, wagging his tail. I looked down at my finger.
I knew that the probability of Arnie giving my cats FIV was very unlikely. I knew that Arnie would most likely live a normal, healthy life. However, something in my gut told me not to take this cat home. I felt so sorry for Arnie, I really did. Every cat should have a home to call their own, and be loved by their humans. I don’t know if it was J not wanting another cat, or how expensive having a cat with FIV could in fact become, in all practicality, but that voice inside me was like, “Nooooo, don’t do this!” Looking back now, I believe it was the lack of connection. As much as Arnie needed a home, he didn’t choose me. Hopefully, he would choose someone else.
Holy tangent! Getting back on track now, (promise!) when I filled Allison in on snippets from this “volunteer mission,” she told me that I had absolutely made the right decision. She said it didn’t matter how Arnie probably couldn’t give my cats FIV, but that it wouldn’t be fair to Arnie. My two cats have eye herpes in their system, (even when their eyes look perfectly fine) and Arnie’s weakened immune system shouldn’t be exposed to that. It was so obvious! It was common sense! I felt even better about my decision now. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that before.
Before Allison disappeared off into her apartment after all the typical “good-bye, cya lata” pleasantries, she asked me if I’d like to take a walk some time. I had told her that I was now unemployed, and that I often got bored during the day. I told her I’d love to walk with her. We both agreed we’d knock on one another’s door whenever we felt like walking.
Allison is around my parents’ ages. She has two children who live a few hours outside of L.A. She used to live in a house in Santa Barbara. She’s a claims lawyer, usually working from home. She’s in her second marriage, and her current husband is an out of work librarian. She likes plants, and has a little garden off her balcony. I vicariously live through her when she chats about her balcony and the view she has of the canyons because, sadly, I have no balcony.
Yesterday, after it stopped raining, Allison knocked on the door. We had already walked at least three times together during the week, and were becoming fast friends. I felt embarrassed as I opened the door, suddenly realizing that I was still in my PJs at two in the afternoon. She asked if I’d like to walk. I told her to give me five minutes.
Once dressed, we headed west on Ventura Blvd. We walked to the Temple Garden. I had only ever passed this place driving by, so I was curious. The entire shop was gorgeous. It was more like a sanctuary than a shop. Allison told me all about the different plants, and I got a million ideas for Father’s Day gifts since my dad is a gardening guru.
When we got back to the apartments, Allison and I agreed that we should each host dinner one of these days. After we said our good-byes, and I shut my apartment door, I smiled to myself. I was grateful to have an unlikely new friend.
Add a comment February 9, 2009
Here are a few things that went down on this rainy February Friday.
1. I took an hour nap with the cats on the bed when I had already had a thirteen-hour night’s sleep. I include the cat detail because the cats are not supposed to be allowed in the bedroom ’cause J is allergic. However, this wasn’t the first time in recent weeks, days.
2. For the billionth time in my life, a Starbucks barrista spelled my name on the cup “Christan” when I popped in to order a piping hot green tea latte. Okay, now you know my name… Kristen. Only in Cali have people chosen to spell it “Christan.”
3. Last night I had a dream that I was sleeping in a puddle. I woke to find a wet spot in the bed. I tapped J on the shoulder to demand how this could have happened. He said he was sweaty, so maybe the bed got a ‘lil wet. I know, I know, gross. Just the same, I accepted this explanation, and managed to drift off. Well, tonight, I collapsed onto the bed next to J and, lo, there was a gigantic wet spot AGAIN. It hadn’t been there when I had napped earlier in the day. I looked up at the ceiling. Sure enough, there was a leak. “Shit!” J and I exclaimed in unison. Now, instead of sleeping soundly next to my boyfriend, I am wide awake writing this post. Of course it was my side of the bed.
4. I like all Nicolas Cage movies, I’ve decided, officially and all. Tonight I watched “Bangkok Dangerous” and enjoyed it thoroughly.
5. Since it was pouring buckets, J and I decided to stay in and order Chinese. I had three helpings and could have had four.
6. I ordered an $8O Dr. Denese SPF 30 tinted facial lotion this evening, despite the fact that I promised myself to STOP ORDERING FROM QVC. What truly sold me were not only the before & after models, but also the ultraviolet fluorescent photos. It brought me back to high school, when I went under one of those buggers during “Skin Cancer Awareness Week.” The damage was bad enough then, so it made me panic & ask myself, “HOW MUCH DAMAGE IS THERE NOW???”
7. I embarked on a new book today, “Dewey.” Yup, the cat book. By the time I got to page 30, I had already cried 5 times. I shared this w/J when he got home, assuming he would find this amusing. Instead, he flashed me a concerned frown.
8. I didn’t hear from the place I interviewed with on Monday. My heart sunk a ‘lil.
9. I still don’t know for sure if I have a job with my former boss on a pilot that’s starting soon. I despise uncertainty.
10. A cricket has resided somewhere behind our fridge for the past 3 weeks. It never bothered me one bit. As a matter of fact, it reminded me of the time when I lived with a roommate who had a pet lizard and fed it crickets. I loved that roommate, (not as much as J, but still, she was awesome) and her cute ‘lil lizard. Sadly, the lizard fell ill, and the crickets began to eat it, but that’s a story for another rainy day. Getting back on track, although I took comfort in the cricket’s chirping, (I love nature, what can I say?) J wasn’t so fond of it. He tried killing it with a broom handle, blowing a fan under the fridge, and pounding on the fridge furiously, but it was all no use. The cricket was invincible. I secretly chuckled to myself, but J was mad. Tonight, J’s wish finally came true. While reading Dewey, I heard some pouncing. Sammy and Bette were up to something. Then, I realized that I hadn’t heard our pet cricket in a while. Next thing I knew, Bette was torturing a big tan colored cricket. She taunted it until she couldn’t take it anymore, and then proudly chomped it to bits. Sammy looked on in awe and in jealousy. I woke J up to inform him of the good news. “You let her eat it?” he proclaimed in disgust, “You could have just let it outside!” Yup, I thought to myself. Yup, the girl who didn’t want her boyfriend to kill the cricket had let BetteBoop eat it to death. I was proud of her even. Yup, and the boy who had tried everything to murder the little chirper was now upset that I had had the black heart to let Bette commit such an act. I know what you’re thinking. J and I are the perfect pair full of contradictions.
Add a comment February 7, 2009
It’s official. I am bored to tears. I had my first interview on Monday and, really, I forgot how exhausting interviews can be at times, let alone how exhausting driving in L.A. can be at times. Seriously, I went from around December 2oth, 2008- February 3rd, 2009 without filling my gas tank. That’s what walking everywhere, and having no where to go will get ya. At least I’ve saved money on gas.
The interview went well, and a day later a former boss told me that she may have a production gig for me soon. See, there are things in the works… maybe. I.will.do.anythiiiing. All I want is to work and get out of my dreary apartment. My friend Bri suggested I paint a wall in my place, but I can’t fathom spending money I don’t have on that right now when I need to eat. Sure, J has been great and always pays when we go out to dinner, and gives me cash for groceries, but still. A few days ago I was counting the one dollar bills in my wallet, (there were about 3) and I held up one of the dollar bills and just stared at it for five minutes. I felt the need to share that with you guys. Yes, I’m broke, desperately need a job, and am GOING CRAZY.
At the present time it’s almost midnight, J is sleeping soundly in the next room, and I am watching a show on Animal Planet called “Cat People.” These people are even more nuts than they sound. Think the movie “Best in Show” times one million with cats in place of dogs. My biggest fear is becoming one of these folks. Oh, and there was something I did last weekend that I’ll fill all my millions of readers in on in my next post. This “thing” that I did even further illustrates my loony cat lady antics. I know, the intrigue!
Add a comment February 6, 2009
After about a zillion fights last week, J and I managed to have a fantastic weekend. I don’t want to dwell on the past, mentioning all the details of last week’s fights, so instead I’ll focus on the good. Oh, and I have a hunch that there will be more good than bad from now on.
On Friday night, J surprised me with dinner at this fancy Italian restaurant down the street. Keeping with our New Year’s walking resolution, we peacefully strolled down the street to the restaurant, hand in hand. When we got there, J immediately ordered a bottle of my favorite French cabernet, and we munched on dinner rolls. We, at once, apologized to one another for all the fights and impatience of the past week, vowing to change some of our unwanted behaviors (God, I’m sounding like the Dog Whisperer!). When we got back to the apartment, full from all the delicious foods that we had just consumed, we watched The Soup, and went to bed in peace. Ahh, the first night in a while not going to bed angry.
Saturday morning was a lazy one. It was reminiscent of the kinds of Saturday mornings we had experienced in our first months of dating. We vegged out on the couch, there was no “nagging” on my part, and J listened to me easily, wanting to hear about all the jobs I had applied for during the week. Later in the day, we played racquetball. By the time the game was over, we were both on the floor, consumed by laughter. Leave it to us to finally being able to laugh again only after a competitive game where we’re both yelling at each other the whole time & wacking each other with the ball. Ha!
Sadly, we got a call from J’s dad around 3pm. J’s childhood pet, a kind-hearted German Shepherd, Duke, had died overnight. J was all chocked up. Although J had known that Duke’s time was running out, (he was eleven) it was still difficult. J and I both agreed that it was good that we had taken him for a walk the last time we saw him. We knew that it wouldn’t be the same anymore when we visited his parents again. Duke wouldn’t be the first one to greet us when we pulled into the driveway. You could tell that Duke always had a smile on his face once he saw J round the corner.
Once Sunday rolled around, we decided to check out the Farmer’s Market in Studio City, right smack dab down the street. Again, we walked. On the way to the market, I tricked J into coming into an antique shop with me, knowing perfectly well that there was a kitten adoption happening at that very moment inside the store. J threw me one of his annoyed looks once he saw what was going on. In a matter of seconds, I was holding a fifteen week old white kitten. He had eyes like blueberries. He squirmed quite a bit in my lap. I glanced up at J. His eyes said it all, “No more cats!” A volunteer lady kept asking me how serious I was about adopting a kitten, but I tried to stay vague, for my sake and J’s. If J hadn’t been with me, I would have whisked that kitten away, back to the apartment to meet Bette and Sammy. J, however, was not having it. He informed the volunteer that he was allergic to cats, and that we already had two as it was. The lady stopped pressing, and I reluctantly handed her back the kitten. Even though he couldn’t come home with us, I was grateful to have held him and smelled his irresistable kitten scent.
At the Farmer’s Market, J purchased the most yummy trail mix, and I bought the most succulent blood oranges. I also bought some exotic lemons for cooking & to flavor my teas and water. J also decided to stop in at the nearby sports store. He decided that we should start playing tennis, even though we both hadn’t played for years. After all, he contended, we had tennis courts just down the street from our apartment, why not take advantage? J bought me a pink racquet, and I decided that this was the perfect Sunday.
The moral of this story is that sometimes all it takes is a weekend to make amends with the one you love, with or without a kitten.
Add a comment January 26, 2009
Okay, news stories like this probably come out every day on various national stations, but I’d just like to say that this pisses me off.
I was watching Fox 11 before bed tonight, (well, I wish I were in bed, but obviously this keeps me up) and a story came on about a man that abused his German Shepard mix so badly that the dog had to be euthenized. Neighbors had seen this abuse for months, but no one was bold enough to stick out a neck. The story disgusted me to the point where I began to tear up. I wish I could say that was the first time today…
Anywho, this was an innocent animal. A female neighbor was captured lamenting on cam re:the badass abuser man, “He had an awful temper! Oh, he always made me nervous.” Hmmm, I think to myself. I have quite the temper when set off (thanks for passing on your genes, Irish mom), but that temper would never harm an animal. God, why can’t we all just love, love, love? Seriously, what’s with this hate? Why does it even bother to exist? Can’t it just fade away like an awful dream? A dream we only understand is a dream when we wake up?
On an entirely different note, I miss Mad Men so much. I have good friends, a boyfriend who I love to death, a lovely, fun fam, and the two cutest kitties on planet earth, but it’s not enough because Mad Men won’t be back on Sunday nights until July. Yeah! That’s right! July!!!! I’ll have to wait ’til friggin July to find out if Pete will try to find his bastard child. I’ll have to wait a friggin month until I discover whether or not Betty has a third baby (what? maybe she miscarried w/all her boozing/smoking, sexing it up w/strangers, and horseback riding). I’ll have to wait a friggin month to see if Roger is still with his young thang. Gah, this is killing me!
I need a hobby fast, or maybe I could volunteer. Updates soon, and probably sooner than you think!
Add a comment November 12, 2008
Sorry, Blog, I haven’t given up on you or lost interest. I’ve simply been too busy at my new job to spend any time with you. Yes, I’m often a neglectful bitch.
I think around the last time I wrote I was trying the whole “not drinking very much” thing. J had gotten me started on the experiment that we failed miserably by Week #2. At this point, I’ve accepted the fact that I’ll forever fit very nicely into the “lush” category of women. There are 3 main reasons these days why this doesn’t make me feel too bad about myself. 1.) My friends all drink pretty heavily, 2.) J drinks, and 3.) Mad Men. I know it’s a TV show based on the 1960’s workplace, but I’m living vicariously through them and, thus, it makes my drinking seem tame. Anyone get where I’m going with this?
BetteBoop and Sammy are still doing just fine. Bette has the eye herpes too now. It’s all good though. They’re just heavily medicated all the time.
Oh, and the job, you ask? Well, the job is good. Okay, it’s as good as it can be. I wonder if I simply don’t like working at all anymore. There was a time when I enjoyed work. That was over a year ago. Either a job is too stressful for me, too easy, too employed of annoying people, or too much of a place where I’m constantly making a mockery of myself. My job now is the latter. Today, for instance, immediately before a meeting, I insisted on moving my chair closer to the phone. I banged the chair against a coffee table like something out of a caveman movie. People giggled, but my boss was like, “Whoa!” He didn’t sound all too pleased. He never does, but he’s also used to it by now, just as I’m used to myself ‘round these parts. I don’t even blush anymore in this office. I’m all too used to this routine of foolish Korlina.
My day’s nearly done. Au revoir for now, my sweet Blog!
2 comments October 21, 2008
Bette (pronounced “Betty.” What can I say? I heart heart Bette Davis) and Sammy (A.K.A. Sammy Pants) are in love. I never thought it would happen, but once J and I arrived back from Aruba it was apparent that they wanted to be together. Also, it hasn’t hurt that I’ve been around more. For whatever reason, Korlina’s presence around the apartment in the last two weeks has helped them grow a STRONGER love for one another. Sammy grooms BetteBoop, and she has even started grooming him. What can I say? A match made in heaven!
1 comment July 18, 2008
BetteBoop isn’t eating. Not eating, like, at all. BetteBoop has always been a rather slim cat, but she has also always loved food. She stopped eating entirely last Saturday morning. By Saturday night by 11pm I was in full panic mode. Therefore, I didn’t know what else to do with myself or with my cat. After a brief struggle, I placed Bette in her kitty carrier, and dashed off to the emergency vet. An overpriced emergency vet.
After hours of waiting around, the vet prescribed Bette a bland diet of chicken or turkey baby food, low-fat cottage cheese, white rice, and skinless chicken breast. I also had to give her a liquid orangey medicine that would keep her from throwing up so much. Oh yeah, forgot to mention that part. Bette had also been throwing up. Not her usual brownish clump throw up, but a watery, foamy throw up. I know, this post is one gross mess, and that’s how I’ve felt myself lately.
Now it’s Hump Day. Hump Day is supposed to be a day of margaritas and a nascent anticipation for Friday. There will be no margaritas or Friday fantasies on this Hump Day. I’m leaving work early so that I can bring Bette to the vet. She’s still not eating willingly. I have to force feed the bitch. Okay, that is harsh. Yes, of course I love my cat. I talk about Bette constantly. I’ve been worrying about her constantly. I made the biggest fool out of myself at my friend’s bachelorette party this past weekend. I cried and carried on about BetteBoop for practically the.whole.entire.wine.tasting.trip. Ah huh, you heard that right. Not even a plethora of wine with my best friends could pull me out of my funk.
With all that said, BetteBoop is still being a little bitch. Don’t believe me? Try force-feeding a cat who gets so mad about the thought of food to her mouth that she looks like a little Gremlin. A cute Gremlin, but still. Maybe more like Gizmo. Anyway, I’ve been through hell with her this past week. J has been through even more hell because not only is Bette freaking out, but his Korlina is SOOOO freaking out.
After looking up Bette’s symptoms on the Internet, I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s anorexic. It’s not necessarily the same as human beings showing signs of anorexia. For cats, it simply means that they will not eat. This can be due to physical and/or emotional factors. This brings me to Sammy. He’s only been with us for a little over a week, but Bette clearly cannot stand his presence.
Around 5pm the verdict will be in. Is Bette being a crazy badass bitch who isn’t eating in protest of Sammy’s presence in the apartment, or is she sick sick? Fingers crossed that I’ll have good news for ya’ll tomorrow & that I’ll finally be able to sleep.
1 comment June 4, 2008