Although this kneading is called, "making biscuits," I've always thought of it as making cinnamon buns. If you want to make tender biscuits, you just barely mix the wet and dry ingredients. If you kneaded the dough, it would make tough biscuits. Since cinnamon buns use a yeast dough, you really do need to knead (ha). Being a cat, I am an expert on most things.
Monday, February 24, 2014
The lady has a friend who gives her a stack of catalogs and magazines every couple of weeks. She was sitting in her chair, putting them in various piles. She glanced down and noticed my interest in a particular magazine.
Monday, February 17, 2014
|Not a happy camper.|
I've been forced to take medicine for the past two weeks. Today (just a few minutes ago) was the last dose. It was some liquid called, "Orbax," and I had to have 1.5 ml put in my mouth via a syringe once a day. I lost a lot of trust in the lady, I can tell you that. It got so that if she even got up from her chair, I went and hid under the bed. If she looked at me, I ran away. She had to be very, very sneaky. I was the mouse in this little game, and I'm sorry to say that I got caught. Every day. For fourteen days.
She said she felt sorry for having to grab me, and I know that she was speaking the truth. Which is why I didn't bite her. Oh, I definitely would try to either run or wiggle away, but if she had a firm grip on me (okay, she sort of sat on me....[oh, the humiliation]) I would let her open my mouth (okay, I would clench my teeth as hard as I could, but she knew some sort of trick to open my mouth without hurting me), and then she gave me that medicine. It wasn't bad tasting, but I don't like being held down against my will. It was scary. She did praise me afterward ("You are SUCH a good boy, Mr. Black! I'm SO proud of you!")...I'm not some baby, but, I still appreciated the kind words. I did glare at her a lot (see photo above). And, I ignored her when she tried to talk to me.
|I'm ignoring you. Get it?!|
I am feeling much better. My urine output is normal. That "other" output is normal. I like my new food. So, things are looking up for me! No more medicine, la la la la la.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
V, in this case, being "Veterinary."
I was betrayed. Again. The lady wins back my trust and then she pulls the "Fancy Feast in the Carrier" scam again. And, again, I fall for it.
A few months ago she took me to vet because I was having...er..."anal gland" problems. I had to have one of them "expressed." I won't go into details; I'll just leave it to your imagination. Since then, the lady puts a warm compress in that "area" if I seem to be having problems. That worked pretty well until a few days ago when I started having problems again and then the lady saw some blood in my urine so she brought me immediately to the vet's office. I cannot be handled in any way shape or form by any veterinary personnel because I get too scared, so they have to put a plastic bag around my carrier and "gas" me until I fall asleep. When I was asleep, they took x-rays of my abdomen, drew blood (they shaved my neck!!) for a health profile, a complete blood count, and a thyroid test. They did a urinalysis.
Turns out that I have some "thickening" of my intestinal wall which is causing problems. This can make my poops "not so good", which then causes the anal glands not to work properly. I may have what is called "Inflammatory Bowel Disease" (not to be confused with "Irritable Bowel Syndrome.") A cascade of other problems can be caused by this. Also, my urinalysis showed I have some sort of infection, so I have to take liquid antibiotics (oh, the lady will have a few tales to tell about that). Also, my diet has been too "rich" (so much for that expensive, grain-free food the lady bought for me). I'm now on a special "metabolic diet."
I am considered an "elderly" cat. The lady does not know my exact age. She knows when she first met me in late 2001, I was a full grown cat. So, that makes me at least thirteen years old. The lady says she is going to write to the person who was my caretaker way back in 2001 (the lady has only been my "lady" since 2007) to see if she can find out exactly how old I am.
Anyway, I am doing fine except for the fact that I am acting very afraid of the lady because she has forced me to take medicine twice already. The first time, I didn't know what was going on when she touched my head. Then, she tilted it back, opened my mouth and squirted some stuff in it. I ran and hid under the bed for three hours. Then, yesterday, when she touched my head I tried to squirm away, but she was able to get the medicine in. I may have to put the bitey on her if she tries again. I know she feels bad and she keeps telling me that it is for my own good and will help make me feel better. All I know is that I get very frightened and my instinct is to "fight" (and then, "flight.")
Please keep me in your thoughts and purrs.
Below are some photos of me trying to get the disgusting "vet" smell off of my handsome self.
|You can see where they shaved my neck. Barbarians!|
Thursday, January 30, 2014
I'm thankful that the lady plays with cat toys for my entertainment.
A note from the lady: both yesterday and today, the uploaded photos have a grainy, "sandy" sort of look to them. The photos appear just fine (except for the blurriness, which is my fault) in Photoshop Elements, but after uploading to Blogger, it looks like Mr. Black has rolled in dirt!