Bernie's Adventures in Snot.

Bernie has had a rough couple of weeks.  She'd been congested and sneezing (sometimes blood) so we took her to the vet almost a month ago.  A stuffy nose on a cat can be, well, a stuffy nose or you know, certain death.  After that first appointment we had to give her antibiotics and steroids for 10 days to see if it cleared up.  I got the feeling that if that didn't clear it up we'd be walking down the "certain death" path.  Not to sound dramatic, but it's either a cold or something fungal which would be treatable or a nasal tumour which would cause my cat to first begin looking like the Elephant Man and then, certain death.

I know she's not the youngest girl, but 13 years old just doesn't seem like the right age to be talking about certain death.  I know way too many cats who have lived to be the age of college co-eds.  And not all of them have had Bernie Boo's winning personality.

As it turns out the 10 day course of medicine really did the trick and she was snot-free and up to her old tricks.  About a week after she finished her medication she became congested again.  She's been snotty and lethargic and, quite frankly, I've been a mess about it.

Today she spent all day at the vet.  After getting sedated she had her nose swabbed for testing, they cleaned out her nasal passages and sent her home with some nose drops and a shaved forearm.  She still seemed a little stoned about an hour after she came home and wandered out onto the front porch - which is completely against type.  She was all "Whoa man...why didn't anyone tell me I could go...whoa...GRASS!" It was weird.

She's hanging out with me now in my home office, and she won't shut up.  It's like she just woke up and she has lots of stories to tell me about the mean, terrible people who knocked her out, shaved her arm and how brave she was.  I'm guessing there's a part where she peed herself or swiped at somebody, but she's leaving those details out.  I'm not going to press the issue.

She has the crazy eyes, but cut her some slack, she's had a rough day.

We will hopefully have the results of her tests early next week.

In the meantime I'm keeping my fingers crossed that she stays snot-free this weekend.  There is going to be some serious cuddling going on here tonight.  I bet you're getting itchy just thinking about it.

Brave Bernadette

I am SO proud of our Bernie Boo. We took her to the vet today for a check up. She was due for one anyway, but we didn't waste any time because she's been sneezing a lot lately and the other night when she sneezed she sprayed blood all over the very white Mac laptop I'm typing on right now. It was quite the visual, you guys. Like a Pollock. A creepy, scary Pollock.

Bernie is the kind of cat who lets you know if she is uncomfortable or unhappy. Loudly. With gusto. My girl can be a bit of a drama queen. The bloody sneeze didn't faze her in the least which was a relief. That said, you know how discomfoting it can be when you google medical symptoms. So today we packed her up in the carrier, which is her least favourite thing in the world, and took her to the vet, which is pretty much her second least favourite thing in the world. She was so brave (no hissing or trying to run away) and the prognosis is good (the bloody nose is not an indication of anything serious).


AND she's lost 3.5 lbs since her last visit! My kitty is going to be my "losing the baby weight" inspiration.  Don't tell her I mentioned this, but she did pee in the carrier on the way home. Poor baby. Nobody's perfect.

Paws for Thought

Bernie's front paws are so large that sometimes they look like paddles. It's almost as if she could play badminton or steer a canoe with them.


It's a joy to watch Pickles leave a room. Her back legs are so furry and puffy it looks like she's wearing ugg boots.

What I'm saying here is, basically, the level of cute in our house is so great it would make you want to punch yourself in the face.

Little Dickens

Our happy little band lost a member last week and we miss her a lot.


The Robeau had to take Dickens to the vet last Friday evening after we found her suddenly dizzy and listless. We didn't know if there was anything really wrong with her, but she didn't seem herself and we were worried. The vet did a number of tests and tried to re-hydrate her with an IV and after about an hour of this they realized that her organs were shutting down and that we would have to have her put to sleep. The Robeau was with her the whole time; I was home because I am, apparently, terrible in a crisis. They don't know what happened, it could have been any number of conditions that she was living with, but I guess the diagnosis isn't the important part. The important part is that she was her same old self all day long until the very end (she even had "soft food" that afternoon).

It was an absolute joy for us to share our home with her these last seven months. We're heartbroken that we didn't get to have more time with her. During this move she's been utterly relaxed, making friends with everyone. We had a house full of people just last Wednesday night and she stayed and mingled with everyone. I remarked to my sister that "Dickens is everyone's favourite and all she has to do is show up". I thought it seemed a little unfair to the other cats, but nobody else seemed to care.

Dickens was their favourite.

DICKENS RIEDLE - super cute roommate.

Updates have been light as of late. Lots going on at the new house and at CSIS. Had a great photo session with the Pena-Doll family last weekend (pictures to come) and have been giving a lot of thought to the legacy of Senator Kennedy. But right now I wanted to take a moment to share some super cute photos of our newest roommate taken by The Robeau on the back deck. She remains friendly and fearless. We think she's going to love all the space in the new house.

For Jen and Shawn.

Just a 30 second taste of the kind of playfulness between Dickens (Bics) and Pickles (Pick) that The Robeau and I enjoy and Bernie endures.

The newest member of our family.

I kind of wanted to start this post "Dear Jen and Shawn, thanks for the cat". You see, my friend Jen, my wonderful and talented friend Jen with whom I used to share an office (an exercise that can't help but bring people together) and her lovely husband Shawn have moved to Vancouver. That's a big move, clear across the country, and their 15 year old cat Dickens decided she wanted to stay in Toronto, so naturally she's come to live with us. Miss Tracey Nolan, The Robeau (aka The Cat Whisperer), Pickles and Bernie. This all happened a little over a month ago, about a week before we left for our trip to New Orleans. We were worried that she'd have a hard time adapting to life here at Chez Nolan/Clayton for many reasons, the least of which was the fact that she has never lived with another cat and now she was moving in with Pickles, a girl brimming with playful love (the sheer force of which could kill a weaker creature) and Bernie, who is routinely mistaken for a chow dog or a small bear (she's BIG). Dickens has lived a life of solitude, being doted upon by her people. She is considerably smaller than both our cats and top it off, she has no claws. It could have been a recipe for disaster. After the initial fear and growling (and that time Bernie pooped her pants in fear), the purchase of a baby gate (sad) to keep her sequestered downstairs and The Robeau spending that first night in the basement with her (sweet) things normalized pretty quickly. By the time we left for New Orleans she was walking around like she owned the joint. Dont' tell our landlord.

The things she does that the other cats don't never ceases to amaze me. Dickens paces back and forth for hours at a time. Maybe that's how she stays so petite? Dickens can jump up on the countertop! Stop that Dickens! Dickens lets us pick her up under our arms like Hader and Samberg do in that Laser Cats sketch. Dickens is friendly when guests come over. She socializes! Dickens actually plays with Pickles. Finally somebody to play with Pickles. They chase each other around and it sounds like a herd of elephants. Dickens, for some reason, hates Bernie and routinely blocks her entry to and from the litter box and the food and water dishes with such callous nonchalantness that you'd think she got her name not because she's a "little dickens" but, you know, for that other thing. Ahem. Dickens, leave Bernie Boo alone, seriously. Bernie, for the record, appears to be terrified of Dickens and will do anything to avoid her. Must have been something she said.

I'm sure Dickens misses Jen and Shawn, because while she is warm with us she won't sit with us on the couch and cuddle...yet. But she does let us pick her up and for some godforsaken reason she always follows me into the bathroom where she will rub up against my legs and try to hop up on my lap. I'm not gonna ask, Dickens. I'll take what I can get.

I do think she's pretty comfy here though, and I'm so glad she is.


Dear Jen and Shawn, thanks for the cat.

Hey, Internet, what's up with my cat?

Bernie Boo, trying to get some shut-eye.

Every morning this week, Bernie has woken us up before the alarm clock with a series of prolonged meows. She just stands there, talking, until she gets what she wants. Which is not food as it turns out. Or water. Or anything litterbox related. The cat is waking us up for the sheer pleasure of our company. Hard to believe, I know. This morning she led us out to the sofa, hopped up and was only happy once I sat down next to her. Really? Really Bernie Boo? Four mornings in a row? Until now, I wasn't even so sure this feline liked me.

The Robeau is under strict instructions to stand next her and talk loudly every single time she even looks like she's going to fall asleep. Cause we're mature like that.

BOO!

Yes, Bernie got dressed up for Halloween. The awesome hat is courtesy of the Robeau's mom, MC (that's short for "Mother Clayton"). Best cat present ever. Hope you all had a spooky night!

REBEL

He doesn't care about your sign.

He doesn't care about your tape.

He's a REBEL.

Bernie Boo reacts badly to the paparazzi.