Josie

I have held off blogging for two full weeks today about Josie.  No, not Jenny, who died on Friday two weeks ago, but this one:

(deplorable water bowl, I know)

Here she is, asleep in the living room near the kitchen.

She came to us last August or early September, found under a car next to mine at church one day.  When she ran out screaming, a fellow parishioner jumped on her (figuratively) and when no one else would take her, I did.  I hoped to find a home for her, as we already had Gwen, the Queen of the House.

After three days, we had fallen in love with the tiny girl, and decided to keep her.  We took her to Doctor Tom, and found out she was healthy for her hard start in life.

She duly had her three sets of shots over the next six weeks. 

In the meantime, I brought home Jenny from a farm down the road to be her companion.  Jenny, as you all know, was sick the entire time she was here with us.  She had good weeks, but many not so good.  Josie eventually began to sneeze what Jenny was sneezing, but never got sick so that she slept all the time, or quit eating.  Other than the sneezing she was fine, though Dr. Tom warned us it was only because she had had all her immunizations that she did not get terribly sick.

We had so many happy hours watching the two little girls play, until Jenny became too ill to do much more than sleep.

Josie often groomed her.

Because we were vetting Jenny every few weeks, we did not get Josie spayed on schedule.  We regretted that a month ago, when we realized she was coming into heat.  She trilled for about ten days, not caterwauling, but trilling and trying to go out the door frequently.  Then she quieted down, and seemed to be fine.  We vowed to get her to Dr. Tom sometime in the next two weeks.  On Saturday two weeks ago, the day after Jen died, the weather was beautiful here.  In and out we went all day, the pugs playing in the yard as we worked in the gardens, and Josie came in and out.  We had decided she would be an indoor cat, but she so clearly wanted out that we let her go out, where she played on the deck and in the yard close to it.  A couple of times she ventured to the garden by us, but would come back in a minute.  Sunday was another great day, and she played outside for a while in the afternoon, then came in to sleep on the back of the recliner.  I fixed a good dinner, and we ate.... then Keith decided at 7 to go out and do the last "closing up" things so he could get to bed early for the week ahead.  Out of the corner of my eye at the sink, I saw Josie jump down off the chair and follow him out, and I called out to him that she was with him.  Keith is extremely deaf, he was an artillery officer, and they did not use ear coverings 30 years ago during live fire, so he does not hear well, and did not hear me then. 

We have never seen her since. 

I could not write about it as we were hurting from losing Jenny on Friday, and we hoped that Josie would reappear.  We have stayed up late and called many, many hundreds of times, we have asked our neighbors Troy and Kathy to watch for her (as they have two toms), and we have used the searchlight to look up and down and everywhere.  We don't know if the coyotes got her or what. 

Tuesday night, Lilly was outside late, about 10:15, and began barking wildly in the garden.  We were already in bed, but I got up to see what was happening.  Lilly looked up at me as I shined the spotlight on her, and I could see her eyes in the light, and she broke off when I called her to come.  I shined the light down, and two small eyes looked back at me in the spotlight, not running.  I think now it could have been Josie.

I stupidly did not put shoes on and go out and look.

Twice before, when Nick was alive, he went out at night, and disappeared for 3 months.  Keith found him both times, the dogs would not let him back to the house.  However, we have brought them in each night, and have left food and water on the porch for Josie.  She was only 7 months old. 

It hurts me to know my own stupidity has probably killed her, or sentenced her to having a litter of kittens in the woods, where she is prey to coyotes or raccoons or possums. 

We miss her so, especially me, because Jenny was Keith's kitten through and through, but Josie, my little shadow in the house.  She often laid on the printer as I blogged, and I would reach over and stroke her.

She didn't meow very loudly, and purred quietly. 

I miss her so.

Hen Gleat

What is it, you ask?

I didn't know either, though I had a suspicion.  Cheyenne, one of the readers of this blog, suggested that is what was happening to Nanny.  I got a good picture of the front of her tonight when I got home.  No, she doesn't spend all her time in the rafters, but I was sad to see her frontside:

She looks worse than last night.  Hen "gleet", as I looked it up, is a large systemic infection that is incurable and eventually kills the hen.  Cheyenne suggested smelling her vent and nostrils, but she was up on the roost before I could get in the henhouse tonight.  Keith got home at mid-afternoon and checked the birds, finding starlings in the henhouse again despite the warmer temps.  I have worried about the spread of infection because of them, and the sodden bedding that I just changed two weeks ago. 

I suspect we are losing Nanny.

This one is going, too:

Dovey and her sister Rosewitha have raised many a fine chick for me, they were the best of mothers.  Rosewitha is still roosting in the rafters, but Dovey has lost almost all her toes.  I have found her twice this week in the dark corner between the ramp to the pophole and the wall.  Keith and I talked about it this evening, and it's the circle of life... they are both five, and we suspect their life lines have run out.  They won't be put down unless they are suffering, though.  I'll really hate to see them go, we have had Nanny since the get-go.

I found this in the yard this morning:

I was very sorry to see it, too, a red-winged blackbird.  They are the harbingers of spring for us.

I suspect Lilly, she can catch them out of the sky, we are not kidding you.  There was a junco dead on the side deck, as well.

Last night, little Josie snuck out the door every time I let the dogs in and out.  I spent the evening getting her back in.  We are so afraid to let her out because of Gwen's death.  I noticed when I got in bed with the pugs that Josie, who usually sleeps with us, was not at my feet.  In the middle of the night when I got up to let Hannah out, Josie ran in the door.

I've waited a week too late.... she appears to be in heat, and got out tonight for 30 minutes.  When I got her back in, she began pacing, and is still doing so.  She is in the kitchen by the door, walking back and forth and crying.  Josie rarely makes noise, her meow is the quietest I've ever heard, but I hear it tonight. We'll try to get her to Dr. Tom Friday to do what we should have done a month ago.

Thankful for a Home to Come Home To

Be it ever so humble.... it's our home and we love it.  I know there are many people who love to wander near and far, and love their RVs..  As for us, we love it here at Calamity Acres.  Tonight we're tired and

it's cold out, and the coyotes have already been howling.  It's good to be inside where it's warm, and where I can have a marshmallow in a cup of hot chocolate in front of the tv. 

Josie

She's One Happy Kitty!

Josie

Little Josie has filled the hole in our hearts left by the passing of the Nickster last December.  For a while, Gwen was the Queen of the House, the only cat.  Now we have little Josie, who wants to play all the time.  She bonded with Keith closely because he slept with her, "lest she be lonely" and now, she and Abby keep us laughing every evening with their antics.  Josie has pulled the "Fall Tree" over, so we know we are in trouble for Christmas, and are making plans to anchor the Christmas tree on the side deck or porch.  We'll have a small one in here with no fragile ornaments this year! 

Josie was found under a car at church one morning, dumped, and is now about 3 months old.  She's a little cutie, and we are so glad to have her in the family.