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Twelve days of Christmas/2: The third and fourth.... - Blather. Rants. Repeat.
A Møøse once bit my sister ...
Twelve days of Christmas/2: The third and fourth....
First, a spot of today.  We finished the Doctor Who Christmas Special, which was lovely #spoilers,sweetie, and spent a decent part of the day looking for Eleanor's wallet, which we're 90 percent certain is lost in some odd corner of the house.

My friends celebrated the life of their tragically-lost daughter today. Rather than asking their friends to mourn, they asked us to dress up, raise a glass, do something positive to capture Jordan's spirit. Closest I could come was to resolutely not watch a moment of the meaningless, rainy, low-scoring Bills game- and I managed it (as, somehow, the Bills managed to win it).

Still- that was today. Looking back at the 360 days previous, I report on our oldest four-legged children:


I tried to get an updated picture of the two of them today; they were utterly, and equally, uncooperative with that.

They're our oldest companions: Tazzer the boykitty will turn 17 in May, Ebony just passed 13.  That's well above average for each species. Yet until the past couple of months, there were few complaints about, or from, either of them.  Both needed veterinary attention this fall, and each got us worrying about their paths leading to Rainbow Bridge sooner rather than later.  As of tonight, that is not the case for either, but both of are That Age that nothing will surprise us.


Ebony first.

She came home, in a cat carrier, 13 Decembers ago. Tasha, our first dog, had lost her best friend next door, and was mopey.  We found a rescue site that brought her to us, and for the next 11 years, they were best friends, walking companions, defenders of the realm.  Tasha began to fail a few years ago, and since then Ebony's been our only dog.  About once a year, she'd come up lame, and we'd order or resume using a prescription to deal with it. But this November brought not only lameness but infection, as she picked at the lame paw to the point of bleeding.  A vet visit changed the anti-inflammatory scrip, added an antibiotic, but also told us she'd need to be more active to keep the leg from heading naturally toward something called Sharpei fever.

So ever since, we've been doing walkies much more regularly than in the 13 years since she got here.  It's cut down the lameness and the picking-at (though she is still on a half-dose of the  anti-inflammatory, since she started picking at her paw again when I tried cutting it out). She also seems more alert and content overall- and the 15 minutes of cardio don't hurt Daddy, either.


Then there's our Old Man of the Pee.

Tazzer was our first Third Cat, and he never bonded with either the original two BFFs who moved here with us or any of the three who followed. If anything, he's been a better friend to, and of, the dogs.  He's got a streak of Siamese in him, and also a makeup of Fragile/Stupid.  More than once, he's drained our retirement accounts as we've saved his life from foreign objects or other impediments.

He was primarily Emily's cat at first, but in recent years I've been his morning launching pad.  Right when Ebony experienced her own issues, Tazzer, 16 going on 17, seemed like he wouldn't make the latter.  First, he became incontinent; we adjusted by giving him alternate catbox arrangements. Then, it seemed for a few days that he was ready to check out under his own power:  he stopped eating, and stayed in just one place (which required extensive cleaning), but unlike the others who we hastened with veterinary assistance, he was still craving attention when it came to him, and purring when it did.  We rearranged things again, and within days he was back to his old self in the departments of eating, preening, moving about, and everything else except consistent catbox usage.  That's also improved somewhat, but we're surrounding him with an army of patience, prevention and puppy pads (paper and permanent) to minimize the severity of his sins.

All in all, the past week with him has been better than the month preceding it. We adore  him, and he still knows and loves us, and as long as that's the case we will make do. Or doodoo, as the case may be.

Tomorrow: Days 5 and 6: Three Golden Trips:)
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