My Cats Are Stoned

My two cats, Anatoly and Amelia, were neutered and spayed today. I've had pets fixed before so I was expecting them to come home pretty droopy and sore. Then I figured they would crash for the rest of the night.

What I didn't realize was that apparently the vet uses crack as a pain killer.

The kittens arrived home and Anatoly zipped out of his crate and raced around the room, purring maniacally.

I've never had my genitals snipped so I guess I can't judge, but I don't think the first thing I would do upon arriving home would be to leap from the floor to the bed to the floor to the bedside table to the chair to the back of the chair and finally to the bookcase where I most definitely wouldn't knock my pain medication and deodorant to the floor in my purring ecstasy.

Amelia's response was much more what I expected. She dragged her poor, tubby little body out of the crate and took refuge under my bed. When I tried to pull her out to put her on the nice blanket I laid down for her she growled at me. She's never growled at me before.

But like I said, I can't judge.

I left them locked in the room for a while until I heard a crash so I ran back and discovered that Anatoly had somehow knocked over both cat crates and, once again, his medicine and my deodorant.

I reached down to pet him and see if he was ok and he started writhing under my hand, purring and purring. And then he looked up at me and his eyes were HUGE and fully dilated, even though all the lights were on. I gave him food and he seemed happier, at least he hasn't spewed all over the floor yet.

Finally I came in here to use my computer and make sure he didn't kill himself and he started BOUNCING up and down. He jumped halfway up the chair, halfway up the bed, halfway up me, and he just did these weird little crack kitty hops all over the room. I peeked under the bed and Amelia was staring into space with these big red circles around her eyes, totally stoned.

I thought "maybe his pain medicine will calm him down!" But no, he just freaked out and insisted on being let out of the room. I let him until he started bounding around the living room. Then I locked him in my room and it was like he had just arrived again.

My attempt to translate his behavior:

"Holy crap! I don't know what they gave me at the vet but I feel GREAT. Is that a chair? A CHAIR?! I've got climb up this chair...oh my gosh! Is that the floor? THE FREAKIN FLOOR??? I HAVE to be on the floor! Ouch, that hurt, why do I hurt there? Wait they didn't-OMGOSH THOSE ORANGE PILL BOTTLES LOOK LIKE THE BEST THINGS EVER!!!!"

Then I pet him and he starts spazzing again:

"TO THE WINDOW! TO THE WALL! TILL THE SWEAT DRIPS DOWN MY-something's wrong here..."

I locked him in his crate so Amelia could eat and the whole time he was in there he ran around in circles. Since that crate is too small to actually run around in circles in he just wound up rubbing all the walls in turn and banging his head repeatedly into the door. But I could tell what he was getting at.

He wolfed down more food and then rolled around on my keyboard (and opened 50 Internet Explorer browser windows, I don't even use Explorer) and he has FINALLY passed out. His head is on the keyboard and every time I bump him to hit "t" his ears twitch.

ttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt....

Just kidding, he moved. That would have been mean. Now he's blocking...well he's blocking that letter between "P" and "R" in the alphabet. I can't hit the actual button you see.

Q! He stretched! Yay!

He doesn't look like he's on crack, but trust me, he is. He's just finally crashed.


And this poor baby:



These are her red circles. They're normally completely white so you can see how stoned she is:



And on a completely different note, this is my crazy burn I got from the wood stove. Don't touch fire! It hurt so bad, and I was babysitting so I couldn't even swear like I wanted to.



Hopefully my poor kitties will continue to be good (the vet says they were SUPER good and friendly, suck it other cats!) and they won't lick their sutures and such because then I'll have to cone them and I think somehow a cat on crack in a cone would be more sad than funny.

We should try it on a person. :D

Have You Ever Snorted Worms Through Your Gills?

Unless you are some highly evolved, computer-using, ocean dweller then I doubt it.

This an axolotl:


They are a type of salamander that grows into adulthood without ever leaving the larval stage, this type of development is called neoteny, and because of this axolotls have gills instead of lungs. When they're pets you keep them in tanks filled with rather cold water.

I was at OMSI (Oregon Museum of Science and Industry) volunteering in the life science lab and feeding the axolotls their lunch of earthworms, which I didn't find appetizing but the axolotls were enjoying them.

Except for one axolotl. Lets call him Bob.

Bob snatched his earthworm and gulped it down whole, like a proper axolotl. A little family was watching me and their daughter asked me:

"Do they chew the worms when they eat them?"

"I'm not sure," I replied, when Bob dramatically answered her question. The worm he had so recently swallowed was bravely making an escape through one of his gills and was trailing behind him like a fleshy windsock.

If you have ever snorted milk or soda or an invertebrate through your nose then you can empathize with Bob's discomfort. He began thrashing and rolling in the water (the axolotl equivalent of hacking and spluttering I'm guessing) and furiously clawing at his gills. I was going to let him deal with it but then I was bombarded by the two little girls watching me:

"Oh wow! Poor axolotl! Is he hurting? What happened to his worm? How is he going to eat it? What if he chokes? What if it kills him? How are you going to get it out?" Their queries alternated between alarm and eagerness. They were feeling sympathy towards Bob but they were obviously thrilled that they were going to witness my axolotl Heimlich maneuver, or perhaps some variation thereof. Obviously I had extensive training in axolotl rescue maneuvers or I wouldn't be wearing the red vest and sticking my hand in the tank now would I?

I turned back to Bob and his now stoic suffering and my only idea was to reach in and pull the worm out of his gill. Bob wasn't thrilled about the giant hand descending on him trying to grab his worm. And the still-living (they're impossible to kill) earthworm wasn't eager to be yanked out of anything. My two helpers in the back were undaunted by my lack of success and appropriately cheered and groaned whenever my hand touched and missed the worm.

I finally decided that maybe I should grab Bob and then pull out the still-firmly lodged worm. But Bob's answer to this tactic was to hide under a rock. This confirmed my original hypothesis that he didn't want or need my assistance. I decided to leave him alone. I clearly wasn't helping and surely there was some animal instinct for when you have food lodged in an orifice? I wasn't too worried. I pulled my hand out and, turning to reassure my cheerleaders, was confronted with about 15 people who had been witnessing this little drama. All very intrigued in my pathetic attempts at catching the salamander.

I had planned on saying something like "dang it he's hiding under the rock, I'll just try later," but the expectant crowd obviously wanted a more conclusive ending to the show. Maybe they thought it was some type of demonstration? Something like:

2:00, Rat Mazes
2:15, Snake Feeding
2:30, Catching a Slimy Axolotl and Pulling an Equally Slimy Earthworm Out of Its Gill While Hand is Immersed in Numbingly Cold Water

At any rate, I needed to sound scientific, or at the very least like I knew what I was doing and had developed some stratagem while flailing around in the tank. (In actuality I had been wondering how much of the worm was lodged in Bob's throat and if the worm was at all conscious of being partially digested, yet almost free. But these thoughts didn't seem appropriate for the mixed crowd before me. Besides, I hadn't been planning on discussing the emotional well-being of earthworms so I just bypassed the whole subject.)

I smiled at the crowd, "Well he still has the worm in there but the best course of action is really to just let him work this out on his own."

If that's true why was my hand numb and dripping? I can only assume it was peer pressure. I resisted my first impulse, wiping my hand on my vest, in order to appear professional. Most of the adults must have realized I was NOT an expert in axolotl first-aid procedures, but some of the kids obviously regarded me as a true biologist so I tried to fit the role. I continued to nod sagely while trying to think of some fact about axolotls that would cement my authority on the subject. Sadly nothing came to mind.

"Will the axolotl be OK?" My helpers asked.

"Oh he'll be fine. Animals are usually best left to their own devices anyway." I fake-chuckled and all the adults chuckled knowingly with me. After all, they knew about animals, they were adults. The kids all nodded seriously and informed each other that animals are best left to their own devices and assured their parents that the axolotl would be fine.

I picked up my worm dish and strode confidently through the crowd to the back office. I was a biologist after all. I calmly encountered animal conundrums on a daily basis. Or at least that was the aura I was trying to create.

Bob did eventually get the worm worked out. I know this because I checked on him about 20 times. Despite the fact that I KNOW animals really are capable of solving their own problems, and I really do think hands-off is the best policy, I was panicked that I would find Bob floating like a dead goldfish at the top of the tank, asphyxiated by my lack of care and his own freedom-loving, over-zealous lunch.

Making Peanut Butter Frosting

My sister, Katie, and I were making peanut butter frosting tonight (well she was making, I was watching) and almost at the end she tasted it:

Me: How does it taste?
Katie: Mmm...salty (continues to pour milk into peanut butter frosting).
Me: Salty?
Katie: Yeah.
Me: How is it salty?
Katie: Well...
Kim: There's no salt in this recipe or in that peanut butter, how does it taste...What did you put in it?
Katie: Umm...Sugar?

(we both pause, hysterical laughter ensues)

Katie has now stolen my kitchen Sharpie and labeled all her jars. This is, I think, long overdo because about two weeks ago her husband Edward flavored a fruit smoothie with baking powder and my niece cried when she tasted it.

I have adopted a firm "don't use any white substance in a jar" stance just to be safe.

We're Closed. GO HOME.

Late at night, I'm still at work

I'm trying not to be a jerk.

But there's still people in the store

So I can't leave and work the floor.

(Which means I have to stay quite late.)

I look at them and start to hate,

their humdrum life which made them say:

"I think I'll go to Kohl's today!"



And so they leave at 10 o'clock,

and then they shop and shop and shop.

And when we announce "we're closed!"

They say "Let me buy my clothes!"

And then it's "Let me pay my bill!"

"Honor my coupon, I know you will!"

Finally, at last we're free!

One comes back, "I have to pee!"

Another, hiding in the back

Is tearing up the discount rack.

They've thrown it all upon the floor,

They've stolen some and then what's more:



They tell me that the store's all wrong,

All the lines are much too long.

The mirrors are in a rotten place,

They never saw a friendly face.

All our stuff is foreign made,

The make-up isn't just their shade.

The ornament they've hauled around

Has fallen, broken on the ground.

The signs are all too hard to read,

The clearance isn't what they need.

The shopping carts all were gone,

Or were too small, or big, or long.



I smile and think "if that's so true,"

"Then what the @#$% is wrong with you?"

No one forced you through our door

And if you asked I'm pretty sure

That every worker in this place

Would gladly tell you to your face

That you can kindly go to hell

And take your kids and dog as well.