The good news is...well, I don't know what the good news is.
The bad news is that Nemo has to go back to the good folks at the rescue. He started manifesting some of the problems that Penelope experienced, and we're just not ready to deal with that right now. I think he'll make someone else a good pet, but he's not for us.
For once, it's not the cat's fault, either.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
A new addition to our family
This is Nemo:
Nemo is a rescue greyhound.
He is very calm and well-mannered, to the point where someone asked me the other day if he was old. No, I said, he's three.
Getting Nemo has been like having a puppy with a large bladder--he's never lived inside a home or been by himself (greyhounds live in kennels when they race) so he's housebroken and hesitant to be by himself.
The first few days with him were HELLISH. Ben and I had both gotten sunburnt while visiting the rescue kennel, he didn't sleep at all that evening and cried and cried, and then the next day we were both feeling sick. We both also missed Penelope something fierce.
Since then he has calmed down and begun to sleep through the night, although Ben accurately accuses me of having "separation anxiety anxiety." I worry about him getting stressed and barking or crying while we are gone and disturbing the neighbors.
So far I have been working on "away training," where I leave for just a minute or two at a time, to teach him that yes, I am in fact coming back when I leave. Ben wanted to go across the street for breakfast this morning, and I was too worried to go out :/
He is a very sweet pup, though, and I think in the long run it's going to be worth it.
Nemo is a rescue greyhound.
He is very calm and well-mannered, to the point where someone asked me the other day if he was old. No, I said, he's three.
Getting Nemo has been like having a puppy with a large bladder--he's never lived inside a home or been by himself (greyhounds live in kennels when they race) so he's housebroken and hesitant to be by himself.
The first few days with him were HELLISH. Ben and I had both gotten sunburnt while visiting the rescue kennel, he didn't sleep at all that evening and cried and cried, and then the next day we were both feeling sick. We both also missed Penelope something fierce.
Since then he has calmed down and begun to sleep through the night, although Ben accurately accuses me of having "separation anxiety anxiety." I worry about him getting stressed and barking or crying while we are gone and disturbing the neighbors.
So far I have been working on "away training," where I leave for just a minute or two at a time, to teach him that yes, I am in fact coming back when I leave. Ben wanted to go across the street for breakfast this morning, and I was too worried to go out :/
He is a very sweet pup, though, and I think in the long run it's going to be worth it.
Friday, July 22, 2011
So it looks like I might have found myself a job tutoring at Dawson, a local Anglo cegep. More news will be forthcoming when I have it. Academia gets a touch of the South about it in the summer, when things get ruhl slow-like and things will get done in their own sweet time. Y'want some iced tea?
Speaking of things being Southerny, it is hot as 3-syllable Hell (hay-ell-uh) here this week. It got up to 35C/95F yesterday, setting a daily record for Montreal. Luckily today looks like it will be more in the 31C/88F range, which is much more bearable but still pretty unusual for Montreal this time of year.
Nick and Sara visited us at the beginning of July, and I felt guilty because we got hit with another heat wave, albeit slightly cooler than this one. They were hoping to come up here and get some of our gloriously temperate summers, but no luck--of course, in our defense, it was like 10 degrees F hotter in DC that weekend.
After one night of roasty-toastyness during their visit, we went out and bought an air conditioner. It's relatively small in the grand scheme of things, and while it doesn't keep the apartment super cold, it does cut down on the humidity and cool things off on days like today. Last night we ended up moving out onto the futon in the living room to be cooler, and were able to sleep well. Except for the cat playing with her crinkly ball at 4:30 am. I solved this issue by putting it under my pillow when she wasn't looking and she mellowed out. Such is cat.
Yesterday, some people from greyhound rescue came and did a home visit, which a lot of rescues (dogs especially) require before you can adopt. They want to come and make sure that you're not a crazy pet hoarder who is going to let their dog run off-leash and eat the neighborhood cats and the contents of the medicine cabinet.
I busted out with some dog-savvy lingo and they announced that we were the easiest home visit they'd ever had. She asked if the dog was going to be allowed on the couch or bed and I was all blah blah blah resource guarding and she was all like have a zillion of our dogs please. See how I let you in on a variety of secret tips and tricks in my blog? Also, rubbing alcohol is really good for getting the chrome on your bathroom faucet really extra-spotless. Try it--it's fun!
Speaking of things being Southerny, it is hot as 3-syllable Hell (hay-ell-uh) here this week. It got up to 35C/95F yesterday, setting a daily record for Montreal. Luckily today looks like it will be more in the 31C/88F range, which is much more bearable but still pretty unusual for Montreal this time of year.
Nick and Sara visited us at the beginning of July, and I felt guilty because we got hit with another heat wave, albeit slightly cooler than this one. They were hoping to come up here and get some of our gloriously temperate summers, but no luck--of course, in our defense, it was like 10 degrees F hotter in DC that weekend.
After one night of roasty-toastyness during their visit, we went out and bought an air conditioner. It's relatively small in the grand scheme of things, and while it doesn't keep the apartment super cold, it does cut down on the humidity and cool things off on days like today. Last night we ended up moving out onto the futon in the living room to be cooler, and were able to sleep well. Except for the cat playing with her crinkly ball at 4:30 am. I solved this issue by putting it under my pillow when she wasn't looking and she mellowed out. Such is cat.
Yesterday, some people from greyhound rescue came and did a home visit, which a lot of rescues (dogs especially) require before you can adopt. They want to come and make sure that you're not a crazy pet hoarder who is going to let their dog run off-leash and eat the neighborhood cats and the contents of the medicine cabinet.
I busted out with some dog-savvy lingo and they announced that we were the easiest home visit they'd ever had. She asked if the dog was going to be allowed on the couch or bed and I was all blah blah blah resource guarding and she was all like have a zillion of our dogs please. See how I let you in on a variety of secret tips and tricks in my blog? Also, rubbing alcohol is really good for getting the chrome on your bathroom faucet really extra-spotless. Try it--it's fun!
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
My father passed away sometime last night.
It's funny--I've spent the past couple of years working on remembering the positive things about my childhood instead of the negative ones, but I had not thought to remember anything good about my father.
So here is something:
I don't remember when it was, but at some point, when I must have been in my teens, my father and I went to Fallingwater, about two hours away from Pittsburgh. I wonder if the only reason I even remember this is the photos that I have of it--he wore a bright pink Hawaiian shirt and a baseball cap.
My father had esophageal cancer. A little over a year ago, I accompanied him to a lot of his treatments at the VA hospital in DC and Martinsburg, WV. They were able to remove the cancer, but it eventually spread into his liver and, as I said, he died last night.
I did not have much of a relationship with my father over the years.
Now that my relationship with my mother is no longer so fragmented, I can think of a vast sea of actions and moments that point to the fact that she cared very much about me and did the best she could, despite both of our defects. The best I can come up with for my father is my hazy memory of our trip to Fallingwater. I remember being surprised at how ugly the faded orange furnishings were after having baked in the sun for years and years of nobody living there.
I traveled back to the US at the end of June, in order to sell our car and visit with my father before he died. We spent maybe three hours together at a restaurant in Western Maryland. He had become...small.
Perhaps I am too practical, but it seems to me that if I was only going to be able to make one trip down to Maryland, visiting my father while he was still alive did him a whole heck of a lot more good personally than going to his funeral. This, and all of the other decisions I made concerning him in the past year and change, are now mine alone to remember and negotiate.
It's funny--I've spent the past couple of years working on remembering the positive things about my childhood instead of the negative ones, but I had not thought to remember anything good about my father.
So here is something:
I don't remember when it was, but at some point, when I must have been in my teens, my father and I went to Fallingwater, about two hours away from Pittsburgh. I wonder if the only reason I even remember this is the photos that I have of it--he wore a bright pink Hawaiian shirt and a baseball cap.
My father had esophageal cancer. A little over a year ago, I accompanied him to a lot of his treatments at the VA hospital in DC and Martinsburg, WV. They were able to remove the cancer, but it eventually spread into his liver and, as I said, he died last night.
I did not have much of a relationship with my father over the years.
Now that my relationship with my mother is no longer so fragmented, I can think of a vast sea of actions and moments that point to the fact that she cared very much about me and did the best she could, despite both of our defects. The best I can come up with for my father is my hazy memory of our trip to Fallingwater. I remember being surprised at how ugly the faded orange furnishings were after having baked in the sun for years and years of nobody living there.
I traveled back to the US at the end of June, in order to sell our car and visit with my father before he died. We spent maybe three hours together at a restaurant in Western Maryland. He had become...small.
Perhaps I am too practical, but it seems to me that if I was only going to be able to make one trip down to Maryland, visiting my father while he was still alive did him a whole heck of a lot more good personally than going to his funeral. This, and all of the other decisions I made concerning him in the past year and change, are now mine alone to remember and negotiate.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Kitty stories
Kitty has arrived. The day she was scheduled to come, I packed up a lot of Penelope's things into a smaller box and missed her so bad I cried.
We talked over prospective cat names for a couple of days and settled on "Ada," after Ada, Countess of Lovelace, daughter of Lord Byron and possibly the world's first computer programmer. Here are some cute things if you're interested in reading further about her. I also considered "George" after George Sands and George Eliot, who were both awesome historical babes, or, as Ben elegantly phrased it, "misbehaving women."
Ada is slowly settling in, I think; she wanders around making meows and meeps and wants attention. She has been eating the food we bought for her--say what ye will about its exorbitant price, but the stuff we put her on means smaller and less smelly poops so I think it's worth the $$.
Sadly, the stress has made her a little sick, I think--the cat lady told us she'd been adopted out previously and returned because she got a kitty cold. What she has is basically kitty herpes, and it's like the canker sores I get in that it flares up when I'm stressed or sick. She had a few sneezes and then today has a sad goopy eye that is essentially kitty pinkeye. After chatting with the cat lady on the phone, we got some eye ointment from the pharmacy and I smeared it at least in the general vicinity of the eye. As you can imagine, Ada was not amused, but she was gracious enough to not hold it against us and immediately wanted to get pets and purr afterwards.
On Saturday, Ben and I went up to the Plateau to check out a meet-and-greet that the local greyhound rescue was holding. We are still thinking of getting another dog, and I'm considering a greyhound because they are 1) ridiculously lazy and enjoy living in apartments and 2) ridiculously healthy and can live to 12 or 14, which is insane for a big dog. Unlike a lot of other dog breeds, they still do what they were created to do, which means that there's no room for hip dysplasia. Their main disadvantage for us is that they can have a very strong prey drive, which means kitties could be in danger. We spoke a bit to the rescue people and were told that maybe 10% of greyhounds could never live with a cat, while the rest of them seem to be able to distinguish between a cat in the house and a cat outside of the house. Cat in the house is not for eating or chasing, but cats outside are apparently free game.
I still don't know what to do about getting a dog. Penelope proved to us that mutts can be just as unhealthy as purebreds, and I don't want something that's going to be a cancer factory or a refugee from a puppy mill with distemper and who knows what else. Those dogs need homes, don't get me wrong, but as I tried to explain to the cat lady when we discussed potential animals with FIV (kitty AIDS), we'd be maybe interested in a compassionate adoption further down the line--an older animal, or one with a treatable disease or disability--but right now, my heart just can't handle it.
We talked over prospective cat names for a couple of days and settled on "Ada," after Ada, Countess of Lovelace, daughter of Lord Byron and possibly the world's first computer programmer. Here are some cute things if you're interested in reading further about her. I also considered "George" after George Sands and George Eliot, who were both awesome historical babes, or, as Ben elegantly phrased it, "misbehaving women."
Ada is slowly settling in, I think; she wanders around making meows and meeps and wants attention. She has been eating the food we bought for her--say what ye will about its exorbitant price, but the stuff we put her on means smaller and less smelly poops so I think it's worth the $$.
Sadly, the stress has made her a little sick, I think--the cat lady told us she'd been adopted out previously and returned because she got a kitty cold. What she has is basically kitty herpes, and it's like the canker sores I get in that it flares up when I'm stressed or sick. She had a few sneezes and then today has a sad goopy eye that is essentially kitty pinkeye. After chatting with the cat lady on the phone, we got some eye ointment from the pharmacy and I smeared it at least in the general vicinity of the eye. As you can imagine, Ada was not amused, but she was gracious enough to not hold it against us and immediately wanted to get pets and purr afterwards.
On Saturday, Ben and I went up to the Plateau to check out a meet-and-greet that the local greyhound rescue was holding. We are still thinking of getting another dog, and I'm considering a greyhound because they are 1) ridiculously lazy and enjoy living in apartments and 2) ridiculously healthy and can live to 12 or 14, which is insane for a big dog. Unlike a lot of other dog breeds, they still do what they were created to do, which means that there's no room for hip dysplasia. Their main disadvantage for us is that they can have a very strong prey drive, which means kitties could be in danger. We spoke a bit to the rescue people and were told that maybe 10% of greyhounds could never live with a cat, while the rest of them seem to be able to distinguish between a cat in the house and a cat outside of the house. Cat in the house is not for eating or chasing, but cats outside are apparently free game.
I still don't know what to do about getting a dog. Penelope proved to us that mutts can be just as unhealthy as purebreds, and I don't want something that's going to be a cancer factory or a refugee from a puppy mill with distemper and who knows what else. Those dogs need homes, don't get me wrong, but as I tried to explain to the cat lady when we discussed potential animals with FIV (kitty AIDS), we'd be maybe interested in a compassionate adoption further down the line--an older animal, or one with a treatable disease or disability--but right now, my heart just can't handle it.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
pets & neighborhood stuff
I have had a grand total of two job interviews while I was here, both for http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifwriting-related positions, and hopefully I'll hear back from some of the other places I've sent feelers. Ben continues to do well at work; the game he's working on was shown last week at the big industry trade show, and looked pretty good!
Ben and I have started looking into getting a cat and a dog, now that we are settled in and feeling more secure here in Montreal. Last weekend, we walked along Rue Sherbrooke to a local pet store who was having an adoption event. The cat people were running late, so we spent a couple of hours walking around.
Rue Sherbrooke is one of the main east-west streets in Montreal. Sherbrooke runs through Westmount and into Notre-Dame-de-Grace (NDG); a nice shopping district with a grocery store starts on the other side of the park from us. There are lots of little boutiques and coffee shops and such--Westmount is a pretty bougie neighborhood, so most of it is pretty high end. There are a couple of boulangeries --bakeries, patisseries--sandwich/deli-type shops, and even a poissonnerie--fishmonger (a poissonerie is not the same as a poisonerie, which is what I typed initially and I guess is where you go for poisons).
One thing that every neighborhood here in Montreal has is a depanneur. There are different assortments of depanneurs, but they're somewhere between a New York City boedga and a convenience store. We have one across the street from us, which we go to if, like, we are halfway through cooking something and realize we don't have any pasta/eggs/milk/bread/canned peas. If it's a staple, there's a good chance it's at the dep. And yes, we do call it "the dep."
Anyway our walk down Sherbrooke was fun because there was some sort of sidewalk festival going on, so there was lots of street food and stuff on sale and people to watch. There was even a bouncy castle/slide, and anyone who knows anything will tell you that a bouncy castle = a party. The whole day was cloudy with some small drizzles now and then, but the weather really held until maybe 4 or 5. Ben theorizes that since the winters are so harsh here, that Montrealers feel they really have to take advantage of the good weather while it lasts, which might be an explanation for why there are so many festivals and such here during the summer. It might also be because the weather isn't super hot so it's a nice place for everyone else to visit.
So finally the cat lady showed up and we looked at cats. There are a surprising number of polydactyl cats here in Montreal, which is just kind of strange. Did Earnest Hemingway come through and not tell anyone? Or is there a Quebecois author I've never heard of who had an enclave of chats up here? Who can tell.
Long story short, we're getting a cat! Her name is currently Sara but it will be changed when she arrives, as we know and are related to far too many Sara/hs for us to keep the name. Yay!
I've never had a cat that wasn't a barn cat, so I am still totally freaked out when someone tries to hand me a cat. I feel like...a 24-year-old male asked to hold a baby. Like, "What am I supposed to do with this?" You don't go around picking up barn cats; it's just a bad idea because they are working cats, not housepets. I like the idea of a cat coming and sitting on me or wanting attention, but the thought of picking one up feels disrespectful AND foolish. I am also not as used to the idea that having a cat means you have a box of poop in your house (or a box of delicious treats if you're a dog), so I am going to have to establish some new habits, as well as do some general research on good cat products.
Ben and I have started looking into getting a cat and a dog, now that we are settled in and feeling more secure here in Montreal. Last weekend, we walked along Rue Sherbrooke to a local pet store who was having an adoption event. The cat people were running late, so we spent a couple of hours walking around.
Rue Sherbrooke is one of the main east-west streets in Montreal. Sherbrooke runs through Westmount and into Notre-Dame-de-Grace (NDG); a nice shopping district with a grocery store starts on the other side of the park from us. There are lots of little boutiques and coffee shops and such--Westmount is a pretty bougie neighborhood, so most of it is pretty high end. There are a couple of boulangeries --bakeries, patisseries--sandwich/deli-type shops, and even a poissonnerie--fishmonger (a poissonerie is not the same as a poisonerie, which is what I typed initially and I guess is where you go for poisons).
One thing that every neighborhood here in Montreal has is a depanneur. There are different assortments of depanneurs, but they're somewhere between a New York City boedga and a convenience store. We have one across the street from us, which we go to if, like, we are halfway through cooking something and realize we don't have any pasta/eggs/milk/bread/canned peas. If it's a staple, there's a good chance it's at the dep. And yes, we do call it "the dep."
Anyway our walk down Sherbrooke was fun because there was some sort of sidewalk festival going on, so there was lots of street food and stuff on sale and people to watch. There was even a bouncy castle/slide, and anyone who knows anything will tell you that a bouncy castle = a party. The whole day was cloudy with some small drizzles now and then, but the weather really held until maybe 4 or 5. Ben theorizes that since the winters are so harsh here, that Montrealers feel they really have to take advantage of the good weather while it lasts, which might be an explanation for why there are so many festivals and such here during the summer. It might also be because the weather isn't super hot so it's a nice place for everyone else to visit.
So finally the cat lady showed up and we looked at cats. There are a surprising number of polydactyl cats here in Montreal, which is just kind of strange. Did Earnest Hemingway come through and not tell anyone? Or is there a Quebecois author I've never heard of who had an enclave of chats up here? Who can tell.
Long story short, we're getting a cat! Her name is currently Sara but it will be changed when she arrives, as we know and are related to far too many Sara/hs for us to keep the name. Yay!
I've never had a cat that wasn't a barn cat, so I am still totally freaked out when someone tries to hand me a cat. I feel like...a 24-year-old male asked to hold a baby. Like, "What am I supposed to do with this?" You don't go around picking up barn cats; it's just a bad idea because they are working cats, not housepets. I like the idea of a cat coming and sitting on me or wanting attention, but the thought of picking one up feels disrespectful AND foolish. I am also not as used to the idea that having a cat means you have a box of poop in your house (or a box of delicious treats if you're a dog), so I am going to have to establish some new habits, as well as do some general research on good cat products.
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