Drip Drip Drop Little Plumbing Problem...

 It was a typical gray, rainy Monday. I had been feeding the animals in the outside exhibit at the Heard Natural History Museum and Wildlife Sanctuary. I got a phone call from my brother. He doesn't call unless there's a problem and there was a problem, a big problem. He told me the water heater alarm was going off.  I had to leave Jeffrey who was also working at the Heard, there because he still had work to do.Fortunately, my work was done. I made the 20 minute drive home, it felt like it took an hour. Every light I came to turned red and seemed to last forever, meanwhile horrible visions of a water fall spilling down the stairs was going through my mind. What went wrong? How much water are we talking about here? It's amazing what your imagination can cook up. At the same time, I was hoping it was just a little seepage but that would have been quite an amazing miracle. When I finally got home and rushed inside, I heard the alarm we had put in the water heater pan years ago. It didn't give off the usual shrill screech, but sounded more like a sick bird. Meanwhile, I heard the sound of the pitter-patter of raindrops, normal for a rainy Monday, but not normal for inside the house. The song that goes, "Drip, drip drop little April shower" from the movie, 'Bambi' comes to mind, except it was November and it was inside.  It was raining upstairs inside the house! Dan had put buckets, pots and pans where the water was drizzling through the ceiling. I dashed upstairs to the attic and sure enough, the water was overflowing from the pan around the water heater. The alarm sounded like a sick bird because it was under water in the pan. It's amazing that it even worked at all!

I tried to turn the water off at the heater while calling my husband. The spigot at the top the heater was stiff and caked with calcium. I could not budge it. Steve suggested that I try to shut off the water at the street. I opened the lid to the water shut-off valve at the street, but even with the shut-off key, the valve wouldn't budge. I then tried to call a plumber we had used before. Benjamin Franklin Plumbing told me that they didn't have any openings, but they could come out for an emergency after 5 PM for $180 an hour. That was not an option.  Next I went to Google and typed in "Plumber in McKinney." 'Al's Plumbing and Heating' stood out, so I called them. They were very helpful on the phone. They said that we needed the to get the water turned off and since they couldn't get there right away, they said to call the fire department. They gave me a number to call them so I wouldn't have to call 911. The fire department got here very quickly and they were WONDERFUL! Kudos to the McKinney fire department! They couldn't turn off the water at the heater, so they went to turn the water off at the street. That was even difficult because of where the shut-off valve was, right up against the inside of the hole, but they shut it off quickly. Then they went into the attic, using our little carpet cleaner, they sucked a bunch of water out.  They were so nice and reassuring. They told us to contact our insurance company.

Steve got here when the fire department was here. I can imagine what he must have thought, seeing the huge fire truck sitting in front of our house with it's lights blinking. Steve was wonderful. He went and picked up Jeffrey at work at the Heard after helping me find paperwork with our homeowners' insurance number on it. I am very thankful that I was able to speak with an insurance agent at this time because when I tried to contact them a few days later on an issue regarding restoration, everyone in the office was in a meeting and nobody was available to talk.

Then, my brother and I had to get the cats so they wouldn't dash outside or up into the attic. They were freaked out by all of the activity, the water in the house, the fire department and stuff like that. Finding them was not easy, although it was easy to find Sprinkles. She was on top of the refrigerator, her latest secure spot to keep away from the other cats. We found Tiger. We had a lot of trouble finding Yukki, she was really freaked out. After what seemed like an hour, my brother finally found Yukki and we put her with the other cats in the master bedroom, which is off to the side and thankfully was unaffected by the water.

Then, Al's plumbing arrived and got started. At least the water hadn't gushed out of the water heater tank; they had to drain the tank and it's a 50 gallon water heater.  They got it replaced pretty quickly.They hauled out the old one and hauled the new one up the stairs and up into the attic. That was a feat there because you have to get to the attic using this extending ladder. The plumbers would have hauled off the old water heater, but the insurance company told us to hang on to it so they can see it. Now we look like hillbillies with an old water heater sitting out in the backyard. The plumbers recommended a company called 'Dry Force' to come in and dry out the mess. They called them for us. I had to get an okay from the insurance company because they had another company coming out, but we never heard from their company and we were told that the drying process has to begin as soon as possible. The new water heater was installed and ready to go. That was expensive! I'm glad this house doesn't have two water heaters like some do!

Dry Force arrived and the doorbell rang once again. Our dog, Mocha, was going nuts because every time the doorbell rings, she thinks it's the pizza man arriving. She really likes the pizza man. She really likes pizza. The guys from Dry Force were wonderful. They were very reassuring and explained everything they were doing. The plumbers said these guys would find the water, and that they did. When water leaks, it does all kinds of things and goes everywhere.  When I had first come home, it was only raining upstairs. Then it started raining through the air vent in the downstairs bathroom under the stairs. After that, it started raining in the garage. These guys have electronic sensors that beep and light up red when moisture is detected. They were running these sensors all over walls where the water had come down and finding out where the water went.

I'm sure we were real popular with the neighbors that day, we live on a small street and at one point there were two Dry Force vans and two plumbing trucks in front of our house and that was after the big fire truck had been parked in front of our house a little earlier.

The ceiling of our garage with water coming through and the tape sagging down with water. 

They told me that if the water isn't taken care of in 48 to 72 hours, that mold would start to grow. At first, one insurance agent had told us not to start anything. Then, one of the guys from Dry Force and I had a conversation with another insurance agent over a speaker phone and this guy said it was our responsibility to get the water taken care of as soon as possible and gave Dry Force the okay to start drying things out.

They had to tear out wooden flooring in the attic, baseboards along the wall under the water heater. They had to remove lots of insulation. I saw it sitting in a huge plastic bag with water pooling in the bottom of the bag. I was very happy that they were taking care of it. They also had to rip out wet padding under the carpet; the carpet in that area had squished with every step. They cut two holes in the ceiling of the bathroom downstairs so that the inside of those walls could be dried out.

Ceiling of our downstairs bathroom with holes

Then they had to remove the ceiling sheet rock in most of the garage as well as some of one of the walls. You could see where the water had run across the ceiling. There were stains around the tape. I'm just glad that most of it was in the garage and hadn't gone into the kids' rooms or any rooms containing a TV or computer, or my husband's guitars. Then they brought in the air movers and dehumidifiers. The air movers are large squirrel-cage fans that really put out the air. The dehumidifiers were about the size of skinny dishwashers, much bigger than the kind we used to put in our basements in Ohio. One day earlier at the Fort Worth Zoo, there was a tube you could get into to feel the force of 80 mph wind like from a tornado. Jeffrey tried it and I'm sure a fan like this was used in that tube.

Jeffrey in tornado wind booth at the Fort Worth Zoo

 An Air Mover

Air movers and a dehumidifier drying out the upstairs hallway

They worked until about 11:30 PM, they even had another shift of technicians come in about 8 or 9 PM. They would have been there all night if we let them, but we asked them if they could stop work at 11:30 PM and start where they left off the next day. The humming and whirring of fans and dehumidifiers had begun. On Tuesday, the Dry Force technicians returned and continued their hard work. There was one guy named 'Jesse' that was particularly nice. He explained everything that they were doing and why it had to be done. I was so glad they were there. It smelled damp, like a dank basement up north, especially in the garage. It was quite humid in the garage.

Garage Ceiling After the Drying Out

The Dry Force technicians really worked hard and gave it all they've got. In the evening, Steve, Stacy and I were watching TV in the bedroom when the whirring and rumbling of fans got louder. A dehumidifier that's almost as big as a washing machine was put in our downstairs living room. The Dry Force guys had been doing the math and figuring out the square footage of the area that has to be dried. Based on that, they set up another dehumidifier, that big sucker that was in our living room. Then came the plastic, lots and lot of plastic.  It kind-of reminded me of 'ET.' I've met customers at the grocery store, who can't stand the feel of plastic and this would have freaked them out. We had plastic sheets hanging in the doorways to the kitchen and the computer room as well as the window between the kitchen and downstairs living room. The Garage was a plastic wonderland with plastic draped over all of our stuff. There was even plastic over the garage fridge, which we had to move to the side every time we needed to get anything out of the fridge.

It's Plastic Land!

We had to keep the cats contained in the back bedroom, except for Sprinkles because she doesn't get along with the other cats. She stayed in Jeff's room. All week long, 24/7 was the constant whirring of the fans and dehumidifiers. It didn't bother me that much because I grew up in a house that didn't have central air-conditioning. We had 2 window units and fans set up all over the house to circulate the air, so I was used to the whirring fans all summer long. In fact, here, when the weather cools off and the air-conditioning doesn't run as much, it's almost a little too quiet. The only thing was, we couldn't hear the doorbell, we relied on the dog to let us know when we had visitors. She always heard the doorbell, even over the fans and dehumidifiers. Also, Dan would wait out on the porch on the bench when Dry Force was due to come out. Then he would tell us when Dry Force was here. They came out nearly every day. An insurance adjuster came out and took pictures, only to have his camera battery die when he came out to take pictures of the busted water heater in our back yard. A guy from Dry Force Restoration came out to do an estimate. That was the day I tried to contact someone from our insurance company to discuss restoration, only to have everyone in a meeting. They finally called back and left a message saying not to let Dry Force Restoration start any restoration work until they've approved the estimate. It's a good thing we still had drying going on.

 Great Big Dehumidifier that was downstairs

(They told me that they have an even bigger one.)

Fans and plastic tubing in downstairs bathroom

 Fans and Dehumidifiers that were used to dry our house out.

Another shot of our garage ceiling.

On Friday, a supervisor for Dry Force named 'Ben' came over and found another place that got wet. The inside of my brother's closet had taken on a little water. Upon taking a bunch of stuff out of his closet, we found 2 wet boxes. One had pictures from my grandmother and great-grandmother which my mother had placed in plastic. We found a cedar box with photos in it the box got a little damp, but mom had put a towel in the bottom of the box, so the photos did not get wet. The water only got about a foot inside the closet. The Dry Force guy took up the carpet pad and baseboards. Then he hooked up a dehumidifier right next to my brother's closet. He put the cedar box up in the closet so the heat would rise and dry the box in the closet. He found dampness that the other guys hadn't found. Dry Force is lucky to have him working for them. Today, another Dry Force technician came and collected the fans and dehumidifiers. When they were all turned off, the sudden silence was a shock. The song, 'Sounds of Silence' comes to mind, this was a silence that actually had a sound, or lack of one. We had become accustomed to the drone and whirring of the fans and dehumidifiers all week. It was especially noticeable when the huge dehumidifier was turned off. 

It was interesting, after it was all said and done and the driers and dehumidifiers were back at Dry Force's office, Steve and I watched a movie called 'Deep Blue Sea' and one the problems they had was water coming in, big time, only this was more like water on the scale of the Titanic. I thought man, they're going to have to call Dry Force and that it would take an awfully big dehumidifier to dry up that mess!  Our house is now dried out. We just have to wait for the insurance company to approve the restoration. That's going to be a whole new mess. Stay tuned.

Drip Drip Drop Little April Shower from 'Bambi': http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HXzb08oTGdc

Snap Crackle Pop Part 2

It's been a week since my cataclysmic tumble down the stairs that broke the 5th Metacarpal bone in my right foot. Putting weight on the foot is forbidden, so I have to walk around on crutches, which means my arms have to lift my body weight with every step I take, no twirling, dancing around or rollerblading. Now many people, including my own kids, have walked with crutches and know what I'm talking about. It's not fun. Rolling around the house on a computer chair is kind-of fun, but lifting my whole body weight with my arms is not. My arms and shoulders are still sore, although not as much, but still, I have a very long way to go before building upper body strength that can lift my body weight on crutches for any distance. I get dizzy on the crutches, especially first thing in the morning and at these times, it's difficult to completely lift my right foot off of the ground.The simplest things have become much more complicated from putting laundry away to getting things ready for breakfast.

Reusable bags like you use for groceries come in real handy in carting stuff on crutches, you just have to remember not to load the bags up too heavily because that's more weight you're lifting in addition to your body weight on the crutches. Also, I have a drafting table along with a tall chair to make it possible to work at the table. This chair comes in real handy when working in the kitchen, because it's a tall chair. I can work at the counters. I can pull myself along the counters from the sink, to the stove, to the coffeemaker, to the fridge. The only problem is that we have ceramic tile floors and the wheels get caught in the grout lines and my feet don't reach the floor. I try to push it using the crutches kind of like oars, but I can't get up enough momentum. I just have to push off hard enough to overcome the grout lines and try not to run into the counters.

What also comes in handy when you're on crutches, is one of those metal water bottles with a screw-on cap, especially if the screw-on cap has a clip attached to it. I put a lanyard on the clip and can cart the water bottle while on crutches. I can fill it at the refrigerator while on the rolling chair. Also wearing clothes with pockets in them comes in handy, you can haul small stuff in your pockets, as long as it's not an ice cube, while traversing the floor on crutches.

Also, I have a small computer chair on wheels that I can use for sorting laundry or trips down the hallway. My brother, who lives with us, is a tremendous help in getting stuff, hauling stuff like bags of laundry if needed. I highly recommend using a shoulder bag as a purse and putting it over your head and one shoulder. With just putting it over the shoulder, it can get dropped easily and bending over to pick something up is an even bigger pain in the neck.

Also, I am still looking for a full-time job and should I get lucky enough to get called in for an interview, I'd have to have one of my kids drive me to the interview place and I can just imagine the impression I would make on a prospective employer, hobbling in on crutches wearing this big walking boot that is building up a healthy collection of cat hair. I guess it'd be okay if he or she liked cats.

As I mentioned earlier, I have a fracture of the 5th Metatarsal on my right foot. It is the last bone, leading to the pinkie toe. This type of fracture can occur due to a violent twist to the foot, which is what happened to me. It could be one of three different fractures, a Jones fracture, an avulsion fracture or a mid-shaft fracture. I looked all of this up on the internet. I have no earthly idea what kind it is but really hope in my deepest of hopes that it is not a Jones fracture. Jones fractures don't heal well due to low blood supply to the area of the break.

My daughter had once warned me not to look up medical conditions on the internet because it would show the worst of what could happen. She was right. I looked up "5th metatarsal fracture" on Google and came up with all kinds of scary stuff, including a number of colorful, graphic photos of what the surgery would look like should that be required. Seriously, they showed insides and everything and were totally and completely gross. In addition, there were forums that included post after post of people with 5th metatarsal fractures that weren't healing. Several of them had been on casts and crutches for weeks or even months and there was no sign of healing. That is a little scary because most of these people were younger than I am. In addition, I have Type 2 diabetes and diabetics take longer to heal, especially in the foot. I am, to be honest, a little bit antsy about the whole thing but remembering Stacy's warning about the internet.

Also, I read on the internet that this is a common sports injury. Beckham of soccer fame apparently once broke his 5th metatarsal. Also, it is a common break for ballet dancers. It can either be an acute break, or a result of stress. Stress breaks occur over time when the bone is repeatedly stressed over and over again from an offending activity. Mine is an acute break, it happened all at once, because I wanted to go downstairs. This one website said that breaking of the 5th Metatarsal is a painful injury, which I thought was odd, because ever since I got this boot (sometimes called a "Moon Boot"), I've had almost no pain.

For tough fractures that won't heal, there is a device called a "Bone Simulator" which sounds like something from 'The Jetsons.' I don't even know how it works. I wish it were like in 'Harry Potter' where they could wave a wand and do a bone knitting spell, or like on Star Trek, when you stick your foot in a device with little blinking lights on it and you're repaired, just like that, no crutches, no 'Moon Boots,' no casts, you're good as new. Unfortunately, much to the chagrin of any of us who have had to deal with one fracture or another, our technology hasn't reached that point in medical advancement as of yet. Even if it did, it would probably be outrageously expensive. So we heal the old-fashioned way, with crutches and 'Moon Boots' and pray and hope our bodies heal those bones as quickly as possible.

Tomorrow, I go to see the orthopedist and pray and hope he sees some sign of healing in my broken 5th Metatarsal. I'm going to just keep on praying, that's the best healing there is.

Snap Crackle Pop

First of all, this isn't about cereal. It's about a bone, a broken bone. Friday, I was going downstairs. Tippi, one of my cats had just gotten into some catnip (not on the steps) and was rolling around on one of the steps in pure bliss. As I was descending the stairs, I looked down at her and stepped to avoid her. I thought there was a step right below my foot. There wasn't. My foot slipped down to the next available step, turned suddenly sideways and I took a big tumble down about four steps and rolled onto the floor. It shook me up. I was mad at myself for being so clumsy. As I was falling down, I did hear something pop, but since my joints make little pops often, I thought it was just that, a joint sound. It hurt. You kind of expect to hurt a bit after a fall like that, so I didn't think anything of it. I even went upstairs and told my daughter what happened.

This was on a Friday. Why, oh why do these things always happen on a weekend!? I figured that I sprained my foot, so I kept it elevated and put ice on it. My husband and daughter went out and got me an Ace bandage and I wrapped my foot in it. I couldn't be on my feet on the weekend, so I called in to Kroger to tell them I couldn't be in. I felt bad because they are always busy on the weekend. Friday night, it really hurt, even when I held it still. Saturday, the pain was a little better and I could even put a little weight on my foot. Since it wasn't that painful, I figured that it had to be some sort of sprain.

By Sunday, a very colorful bruise started to blossom on top of my foot around the first toes. It was really quite a work of art, in various shades of a purplish blue. I was able to walk on it a little, and help with the barbecue that we had. I was even able to change out my hummingbird feeders. I had them inside while fixing the nectar. I was waiting for the nectar to cool off and was outside ready to toast a marshmallow on the grill when a  little female hummingbird flew right up to me, hovered and started chattering at me, as if to say, "Where's my food?" So I went inside and got the feeders ready. I was able to hang them up  with little pain to my foot and figured it was getting better.

The bruise was looking nastier and color was spreading to my toes. Jeff said, "You're going to the doctor tomorrow!" I didn't want to go to the ER because it is so expensive. Monday, Stacy filled in for me at the Heard museum.  After Jeff got home from work, he drove me to the doctor's. The doctor took one look at it and said that it looks broken. I was in complete denial. I said that it didn't hurt that bad. He sent me over for an x-ray. He looked at the film while I waited in the exam room and I heard him out in the hallway say, "...she broke it good!" Of course I hoped he was talking about someone else, but knew he wasn't. Then he walked into the room I was in and said, "You broke it good!"  I was crestfallen. I had never broken a bone before in my life. He showed me the film and right on a bone in my foot, I saw the fracture. There was no doubt about it, it was slanted and it was a definite break. The doctor said that I was tough.

He consulted with an orthopedic doctor from next door and he said that so far, no surgery was needed. I was grateful, I hate going under anesthesia. I had been using one crutch that was meant for a little kid (Jeff and Stacy had used them when they were little), the other crutch was broken, so I just used the one. The doctor loaned me a pair of adult-sized crutches, which took a lot of stress off of my foot.

Then Jeff took me to a nearby medical supply place on University Ave. to get me a "Short Walking Boot." Of course this place wasn't on our insurance. There was a place on the other side of town that was, but it was possible that the boot would be much more expensive and we would end up paying as much if not more even with insurance. After Jeff and I consulted with Steve on the phone, we decided to just go ahead and buy it there. Jeff was real sweet and paid for half of it. It's like fitting shoes, you have to try them on to see what a good fit is and a really nice lady there helped me out. Then I had to learn to walk with the boot on crutches. This is no easy task.

After I got home, I made Jeff a grocery list and he went an got groceries. With a broken foot in a big boot, you can't drive and walk around a grocery store. Jeff adjusted the crutches for me and I was trying to walk with them. That night, I "googled" how to walk with crutches and found out that I was doing it all wrong. The padded things at the top of them aren't supposed to touch the inside of your armpits. You have to lift with your arms. Lifting my entire body weight, plus a walking boot, is no easy task. My arms are not used to this. After about a day of this, my arms were sore to the point it was painful to walk with the crutches. I am supposed to use the crutches and only touch the toe of my broken foot to the ground, but I can't do that all the time. It hurts my arms too much. I have to build up muscle in my arms and that will take some time. The lady that helped me with the boot said I have to walk with it by gently rolling back to front and that's a lot easier with the crutches than totally lifting the foot off of the ground. I'm trying to walk with my foot off the ground as much as possible, but my arms can only take so much. I haven't even attempted steps yet. The kids don't want me to do that.

So, here I am, 48 hours later, off of my feet, thinking of all of the stuff that needs to be done. I am frustrated and angry at myself for being clumsy. My family tells me that it was just an accident. My family is taking excellent care of me, getting me stuff so I don't have to get on my feet. My arms are still throbbing from having to lift my entire body to get from point A to point B. It apparently takes from 4 to 6 weeks to heal. I am a diabetic and diabetics heal more slowly, especially in the feet. All I can do is pray for quick healing and take care of this thing so it doesn't take any longer than necessary to heal. Never take your feet for granted and always be careful going downstairs, especially when there's a cat who's high on catnip rolling around on one of the steps.

 On another note, I need to ask the kids to change out the hummingbird feeders for me. I don't want to disappoint our little hummingbird.

Myths

There are all kinds of myths in existence. There's a whole television series about whether or not these myths are really true. A lot of them are totally untrue. These guys go to a lot of trouble to disprove some of these myths, some started by movies and silly rumors. There are a lot of untrue myths that have given bats a bad reputation. They will not get tangled in your hair, they are not flying rodents, they are not evil creatures of the night, and the main percentage of them are not vampires. Bats are beneficial creatures that seriously control insect populations making food for us more affordable. Some bats pollinate plants that make a lot of products available to us, such as coffee, chocolate, agave (for Tequilas) and bananas. Rain forests rely on bats to replant them. Many people are afraid of bats because of their appearance and because they fly around at night. They don't realize that flying foxes can look like puppies and come out during the day. Bats are highly intelligent, some say they are as intelligent as dolphins. Yet some people insist on hanging onto old myths that are just plain lies.

This morning, in The Dallas Morning News, I read about another myth, which is causing all kinds of problems. It involves people in their 50's trying to find a job. Many potential employers seem to think that people in their 50's or older are undesirable to hire. It is thought that people in their 50's and beyond are ready to go out to pasture and cannot deal with the current technological challenges that today's work place requires. Nothing could be further from the truth. Just this morning, my husband, who is in his 50's, was fixing the fans on my son's computer. He built that computer from scratch. He knows his way around computers and computer software better than people young enough to be his kids.

 People in their 50's have watched computers develop through the years, from giant monoliths that filled an entire room and only had about 3k memory to today's smart phones loaded with apps that do just about anything except fix the dinner. In twenty years when today's babies are adults, they will see today's state of the art electronics in older movies and laugh. It's a matter of keeping up with current technology, which is continuously changing. Everybody needs to keep up with technology, no matter how old or how young they may be.

Basically, what I'm saying is for those in the power to hire, is to have an open mind and not to rely on unrealistic myths. Give someone in their 50's a chance, they have life experience, many have raised children and have had responsibilities way beyond meeting a deadline. They are special people and deserve consideration. Don't let a myth stand in the way of hiring someone outstanding, very special and unique.

A New Beginning

I am embarking  on a new beginning. I have begun to search for a full-time job as a graphic artist. I worked full-time as a graphic artist a few years ago. My husband had a good position as a Senior Copywriter at JCPenney catalog and I was a layout artist in JCPenney's retail area, both of us worked at the home office in Plano. We realized that my job was pretty much paying for daycare for our two kids. We decided that it would be better for me to stay home with the kids and take on free-lance work.

Stacy was a toddler and Jeff was in elementary school. It was great, especially on cold, rainy mornings, we didn't have to haul the kids to the daycare center at 6:30 in the morning. Also, we were finding out that Jeffrey had learning disabilities and later discovered that Stacy had learning disabilities as well. With me being home, I could go to meetings during the day, called ARD meetings, to discuss their modifications with the teachers and counselors. This was not something I could do while working a full-time job.

I worked part-time at stores such as MJDesigns, Michael's and Hobby Lobby to help with expenses. I could work nights and weekends when my husband was home and be home during the day for the kids. It was nice, I liked doing this. It came in handy to be home when we got ready to move to McKinney because I needed the time for packing boxes and helping the family fix up the house in Arlington.

After we moved to McKinney, I worked at the Hobby Lobby in Allen for a while. Then an opportunity came up to volunteer at the Heard Natural Science Museum and Wildlife Sanctuary. It was because of a question about a Black Swallowtail caterpillar that I e-mailed their curator about. She asked if we wanted to volunteer there. My daughter, Stacy, had very much wanted to volunteer at a place like this. We volunteered for a year or two, feeding the animals in the live room (turtles, snakes, skinks, etc.). Then the Heard got in an exhibit of mammals that were put in cages they had outside that previously held raptor birds. I had gotten a job with the Heard Museum as a teaching assistant for their pre-school class as well as helping with summer camp classes and some home-school science classes for kids aged 8-10. I was also working at the front desk in the gift shop from time to time. The kids and I ended-up with jobs to feed and care for the animals in the outdoor exhibit.

A few years later, I got a part-time job at a local Kroger store to help with expenses. I liked it there, the people I worked with were really nice and I got a 10% discount on Kroger brand items. I still work there.

JCPenney was going through serious changes and after 23 years, on 11/11/11, they ended my husband's position as Senior Copy Chief. After about three months of hard work, looking for a job and applying for jobs, Steve found a good job. It doesn't pay as much as the job at JCPenney but the people there are very nice and he really likes it.

We knew that I would have to find a full-time job. Then our daughter got her Associate's at Collin College and got accepted at UNT in Denton. It's too expensive to live in the dorms, so she needed a car to commute to Denton from McKinney and back. So we got her a car. With the car payments and insurance, we need something more than my two part-time jobs. So, I am beginning to look for a full-time job. This is my new beginning.

Graphic arts is what I know how to do, I am a good illustrator and designer. This is the type of job I am seeking. I was trained in Adobe Photoshop and Quark Express on a Mac at JCPenney. We have had Adobe Photoshop Elements and have used it frequently in re-touching photos.  In order to update my skills, we got Adobe CS5 which includes Photoshop, Illustrator and InDesign and through an account on Lynda.com, I have been learning this plus Microsoft Excel and Word.

There are a few challenges in this current job search. First of all, potential employers might prefer someone my kids' age, however I don't think of myself as old. Others however might want to know what kind of spear worked best for catching a Woolly Mammoth or if my graphic arts experience included drawing petroglyphs on cave walls. Honestly, I don't feel old and many people tell me that I do not look my age. Further more, there are more baby boomers and they are going to figure into a large part of an advertiser's target market and who better to work this angle than a baby boomer,

There is also a demand for people to know how to build and change web pages. I've done some HTML. I built several websites in the late 90's using a template provided by Netscape, which no longer exists. There are templates and programs these days that are so much easier and efficient than those old programs. There is something known as Cascading Style Sheets, or CSS, which I've heard is like HTML on steroids. Through Lynda.com, I've learned a little about them, that one feeds off another, that feeds off another and so forth and that they take considerable programming skills. I have heard that most companies have templates and programs for building or adjusting web pages so the pages don't have to be done using pure code. The thing is, I am more than willing to learn how to manipulate a web page using current technology. I want to learn this. I want to be up to date. It is necessary in today's constantly changing computer technology.

There is another challenge, which involves the gap in my career as a graphic artist. There have been a few years since I've worked as a graphic artist. Graphic arts does not involve feeding mongooses, gray fox, raccoon or deer, there's not a lot of demand for that, but it requires taking responsibility and being dependable. The animals need to be fed, whether it's Christmas or any other holiday. If there is an ice storm it's freezing cold outside and everybody stays home from work, we still have to feed the animals. They're like people, they need to eat and have water every single day. Their health and well being needs to be checked. Each animal has different dietary requirements that have to be met with every meal we prepare for them. The inventory of food for them has to be gone over to make sure there will be enough of the food they require every day. I can handle responsibility and am reliable.

I have also continued doing my artwork through the years, which involves drawing pet portraits, doing scratch boards, painting with oils and acrylics, painting T-shirts as well as various craft projects. I was involved with the Art Club of McKinney for a while and won several ribbons for my work in a few of their yearly art shows. I have also done cartoons for a dog breeder's monthly newsletter and caricatures of people at a JCPenney United Way fund raiser. I have also done cards, such as retirement cards with caricatures of the people on the card.

At the present, I work two part-time jobs. One is with the Heard Natural Science Museum and Wildlife Sanctuary and the other is with the Kroger store on the weekends. Both have physical demands, at the Heard, I must haul a wagon of food up and down the hill and bring the food into the cages of the animals in all sorts of weather, from 102 degrees to 23 degrees, rain or shine. At Kroger, I am a courtesy clerk which involves standing all day, walking around the store and getting shopping carts off of the parking lots, rain or shine, in all kinds of weather. I can handle that better than some people who are half my age.

I am more than ready to embark on a new career as a Graphic Artist. I am willing to work very hard, learn and grasp any skills an employer wishes me to learn and do whatever it takes to do a wonderful job.

Princess

Just before we were to move from our old house to the new one in Gahanna, a beautiful long-haired white cat with a black spot on her back showed up in our yard. She started showing up every day. She didn't have a face that looked puffy like a Persian, she had a beautiful, sculptured face like that of a Turkish Angora. She was a dainty little lady, but she looked pregnant. We were just about to move and couldn't take in another cat at that time, especially a pregnant one. My mom found an office acquaintance who lived on an acreage who offered to take in Princess. Mom took Princess to her and not long after that, the lady told mom that Princess had kittens. I think she had three kittens and one of them looked just like her. The lady would occasionally give mom pictures of Princess and her kittens and she looked happy out there in the woods with her kittens.

Some time after we had moved to Gahanna and gotten settled in, my mom asked this lady about Princess. The lady told her she no longer had Princess, but I don't know why. This lady did keep the kittens. Mom found out that Princess was at the animal shelter and she went there straightaway to rescue her. When she got there, Princess was in the 'Biting Room.' She had apparently bitten someone. Princess was a sweet cat, she never once tried to bite any of us, she never hissed at us and never scratched us. She was always a lovely little lady, so this was a total mystery to us. I think somebody else had attempted to adopt her and it didn't work out so they returned her and I think maybe they were mean to her. That was upsetting, she was such a sweet cat. When mom got her, Princess was also missing a tooth. If my mom hadn't have come and gotten her, Princess would have been put to sleep.  My mom brought Princess home. We took her to the vet and got her checked out, that's when we found out that Princess was missing a tooth. We got her spayed, we didn't need  to deal with kittens or a cat in heat.

Then came the process of introducing her to the other two cats. Actually, from what I remember, it went fairly smoothly. Because she was a female, I guess the male cats didn't feel that threatened. Princess quickly became one of the family and she took a real liking to my mom. She was a sweet cat and never tried to bite anyone, not even the other cats. The only thing with her was her massive long hair. It got matted easily and often. We had to brush her frequently and she hated being brushed with a passion. She would fight it by squirming and then she would get lots of gas and I would have to stop brushing her. If she saw me with the brush, she would run and hide. I would try to reward her with treats after brushing her to try to make it a better experience, but it didn't work, she hated to be brushed. I tried to be really gentle and would have to cut the mats out. I did everything I could not to pull her hair.

Princess loved to watch birds. She was fascinated by them. She would watch them from a window or from the patio door for hours. She had probably caught them when she was on her own. She would love to play and pretend she was stalking a bird. She also loved feathers. If you waved a string around, she would go after it. She was quite playful. She still remembered her kittens. One day, the TV was on and a show with a litter of kittens was on. She heard the mewing on the TV and immediately looked behind the TV for her kittens. I felt bad that she missed her kittens and I could not bring them to her. She was a good mother.

We had Princess for only  2 or 3 years. One day, three days before Christmas, we found her dead in the basement. We had no idea she had been sick. She had been healthy, eating normally and looking just fine. We had gone out for breakfast that morning, then went shopping after that. We bought a Christmas ornament that with a battery in it, chirped like a bird (you could turn it on and off so it wouldn't drive you crazy). Princess loved birds and I remember that I couldn't wait to show it to her when we got home. We couldn't find her until I found her in the basement. It was completely heartbreaking.

We had a necropsy done on her (for humans, it's called an autopsy, for animals, it's called a necropsy). She had died of a disease called Hemolytic anemia. One of her kittens died of the same disease. It is the breakdown of red blood cells. Animals sometimes don't show that they're sick until it's near the end. It's how they survive in the wild without looking vulnerable. She was a very special, beautiful cat and we will always remember her.

Tiger and Baron

Once again, a stray tabby cat started showing up in the back yard of my house. Once again, I was giving treats to a hungry stray. My parents had said not to feed it or it will hang around. It was too late, I had already been feeding him. He was a brown and black tabby, like our first Tiger was, but a little smaller and he had a very high-pitched meow. My parents thought he was kind of a wimp because of that high-pitched meow. Also, he didn't seem as smart as Tiger or Tiger 2 to them. I think if he was able to survive on his own for any length of time, he was smarter than he appeared. Somebody started calling him  'Crybaby.' I'm not sure how that got started. He was a very sweet cat and didn't mind being picked-up, although he didn't want to be held for long. Tiger 2 (who we were calling 'Tiger' by this time) was not thrilled about him hanging out in the back yard. The back yard was not exactly Tiger's territory since he didn't go outside so there wasn't much he could do about it. Crybaby endeared himself to my family and I because he was so sweet.

We took him to the vet and the vet said that 'Crybaby' wasn't a very good name. We were having trouble coming up with a good name. The vet suggested we call him 'Baron.' That sounded good to us, so from then on, his name was Baron. We did eventually take him into our house. Before that happened, one warm day, I heard a commotion over by our shed, the 'Garden House.' I went over to see what is was and Baron was doing battle with a large family of Norway rats that had taken up residence under the shed. That cat was no wimp. Those rats are nasty and aggressive and he rooted them out of there. He looked like  he was enjoying the whole thing.

Baron liked to be in the car. I have never had another cat that liked to be in the car. We had a Chrysler New Yorker sedan and Baron liked to get in the back and sleep next to the back windshield. One morning, my mom got up and was looking out the window when she saw the cat stretching in the back of the car as he was just waking up. Fortunately, it was cool out, a typical Ohio early Spring day. She had to go open up the car and let him out. We had to watch him around cars after that. At least he never got up inside the engine like some cats do, he preferred to be next to the back window where he could see out and the afternoon sun would warm him up. He also used to like to ride in the car and look out the windows. People would look at him and smile when we drove by. As long as we weren't going to the vet, and were just going for a drive, he loved it.

Baron and Tiger

We had to introduce Tiger and Baron slowly. We kept them confined to different parts of the house at first. We made sure Baron got his shots. Little by little, we put them together more and for longer lengths of time. Neither cat was happy about meeting the other. There was some hissing and growling as there always is when introducing a new cat to the household. Tiger would get jealous if we payed attention to Baron, so we had to give them both attention at the same time. Tiger and Baron learned to tolerate each other, even to the point of being on a bed at the same time. They would fight  sometimes in play and sometimes for real. They did mostly play fighting. They wouldn't admit it, but it gave them something to do, especially when we were at school and work. This kind of fighting wasn't as noisy as a regular knock-down-drag-out cat fight. They would be rolled up in a ball, biting and kicking each other until one of us would break it up or one of them decided that was enough. One time, they knocked over a box in the basement with an Easter bonnet my mom had made and worn one year. When I found them, the Easter bonnet was upside down in the box and the cats were in a ball inside the Easter bonnet, kicking and biting each other. Needless to say, my mom was quite unhappy that her Easter bonnet became a fight venue.

Mom wearing the Easter bonnet that Tiger and Baron were to have a fight inside in the future.

Baron also liked music. My brother, Dan, liked to play records on his record player. Baron would come into his room, lay on his bed and listen to the music. Dan always played different kinds of music. Baron seemed to like classical music, which delighted my mom because she loved classical music. Dan and Baron had this love of music in common and Dan grew quite fond of Baron. This was special for Dan because he was never really into animals. He liked Tiger and would help feed Tiger, but never got close to him. Baron was his special companion.

My dad had decided that the neighborhood we were living in was going down hill, so he said that we should move to a nicer neighborhood. My mom didn't want to move, but my dad convinced her in his own way. In other words he told her that he was moving and she could stay, but he was moving. Needless to say, she started getting ready to move. We had to put our house up for sale and this meant lots and lots of cleaning, painting, wallpapering. There was a brand of wallpaper called 'Wal Tex' which was wallpaper with a fabric backing. Dad and I started putting Wal Tex on some of the walls. We had to keep the cats away from the wallpaper paste. This was the 70's, we put up mirror tiles in the dining area to make the house look bigger. There was also the matter of getting carpeting put in. We had hardwood floors, but they weren't that great looking, they squeaked and groaned when we walked across them. I hated them because my mom was always yelling at me for scuffing them up and I would get in trouble if I spilled something on them. In those days, if you wanted to sell a house, you had to put in carpeting, which delighted me to be free of those stupid, ugly wood floors. The two cats stayed clear of all of the fixing up. We kept them in the basement when the carpeting was installed  and they didn't like all of the noise. They especially didn't like all of the vacuuming that followed the installation of the carpeting, they both hated the vacuum cleaner. I think we had to board them at the vet's place when we had an 'Open House.' I don't exactly remember, but I know we couldn't have had them loose in the house with Tiger's tendency to attack strangers he didn't like. That would not go over as a good selling point for the house.

Our vet had moved to a new location and the new office was nice and sparkling clean, but it didn't stay that way  for very long. This guy was the only vet we knew of in the area. If I knew what I know now, I would have shopped around more. Fortunately, in the new place, there was a boarding place that was separate from the cat patients that were sick. I remember once I had to bring Tiger in to stay overnight. I think it was to get him fixed, but I'm not sure. I remember walking back with the vet technician to put him in his cage. The cage did not look real secure and the latch looked like one that Tiger could figure out in no time. I asked the technician if that was secure enough. She nonchalantly said. "Oh he'll be fine." The next day, when I came over to the cage to pick Tiger up, they let me come back to his cage.  I noticed it was secured with twist-ties all around the door. Tiger sat there looking totally innocent. I asked them if Tiger got out, but they wouldn't admit it. Some time later, I had to bring Baron in to get 'fixed.' When I brought him in, there was a different vet technician there. She said, "Is he an escape artist too?" I told them that he wasn't, but it was then I knew that Tiger had gotten out that one time he stayed there. I could imagine them chasing him all over the place. When he got out, he was not easy to catch, he was smart and fast. I'll bet they didn't make that mistake again!

After much looking around and checking out different houses on the market, my parents found a house in Gahanna, Ohio and our old house sold. The house in Gahanna required some fix-up, the basement had a crawl space with no door and we didn't want the cats wandering in the crawl space, so we had a door put on it. Also, unfortunately, it had  hardwood floors. We covered those wooden floors up with carpet almost as soon as we moved in there. Moving day came and once again, the cats had to stay at the vet's boarding place for a day while we moved. Moving is always such a mess, we had boxes everywhere. We brought the cats into the new house. We introduced them to the basement first and showed them where their cat box was. The next room they learned about was the kitchen, where their bowls were. Then they discovered the family room. This family room had a sliding patio door. Our old house didn't have one of these. The cats could comfortably sit on the floor and watch the bird activity in the back yard. The cats were delighted with this. They had fun playing in all of the moving boxes, it was like a new adventure to them.

The next thing that happened has always been a mystery to me. Tiger got deathly ill. All of the hair on the top inch of the tip of his tail fell off. He wouldn't eat or drink and he ran a fever and lost weight. I took him to the vet and the vet put him on antibiotics.  The vet thought he got into something in the new house. I had to take Tiger's temperature several times a day, which meant gently wrapping him in a towel and carefully sticking a thermometer in his rear and writing down his temperature. I would also give him water via a hypodermic syringe without the needle to make sure he stayed hydrated. I called in sick from work so I could take care of him around the clock. I fed him watered down baby food with the syringe. I was scared that we were going to lose him. I felt like a mother looking after a baby, even though I'd never actually been around a human baby.

Tiger gradually got better. He started getting a mixture of cat food and baby food and started eating on his own. We also knew he was getting better when he started putting up a fight when he got his temperature taken. He fully recovered and never had whatever that illness was again. Baron never got sick, he was fine the whole time. He did not show any symptoms whatsoever, which made me think that Tiger did get into something in the house, but we never did figure out what it was he got into.

In the evenings, Baron would hang out in Dan's room, listening to Dan playing his records. Tiger would hang out on the corner of my bed. If we were watching TV in the family room, Tiger found the spot on the top of TV console that was warm and that was where he would sleep. Both cats got put in the basement every night so they wouldn't get into fights upstairs and break mom's glassware. She had a collection of glassware on this credenza in the living room. Tiger was always able to get around the glass items so he could sun himself in the window sill. Baron wasn't quite as coordinated, but I think it was because he was getting really big. He got up to 15 pounds or more. Tiger knew when it was bed time and time for him to go into the basement. We would have to chase him around the house to catch him. This really frustrated my brother when I wasn't there and mom asked him to catch Tiger. With Baron, all we had to do was pick him up and take him downstairs.

For a while, Tiger used to like to get on top of the refrigerator.The top of the fridge was warm. The stove was right next to the refrigerator, so he would jump up on the stove and hop to the top of the fridge. It was an electric stove and Tiger walked across the burners without any regard to whether they would be hot. He must have singed a paw one day, because he started walking very gingerly around those burners to get to the top of the fridge. 

We had a bunch of plants that we put over by the patio door in the family room. One thing Baron loved to do was eat plants, so we had non-toxic plants, still, I did not like him eating my plants because he was like a feline lawnmower. One day Tiger came up to me in my room and started meowing. Then he started to walk away and looked to make sure I was following him. I followed him and he kept looking back as he walked down the stairs to the living room, to make sure I would follow him. He led me to the family room where Baron was chowing down on my plants. I yelled at Baron to get away from the plants. Tiger had a very satisfied look on his face. Tiger told on Baron.

One time my mom meant to ask Dan something, but instead, she had yelled out just as loud as can be, "Tiger, do you know where the potatoes are?" We all had a good laugh over that, especially my dad. Tiger, it turned out, did not know where the potatoes were or at least he did not tell us.

Tiger and Baron were such good company. It's hard to believe that I didn't have pets as a kid, pets make a house whole and give it a happy, comfortable feeling. It was fun during the holidays, my grandmother would come over and make the most amazing meals. The whole kitchen smelled so good. On Thanksgiving, the cats would spend all day in the kitchen. I always got them at catnip toy for Christmas and would give Tiger a treat of dried beef. Baron wasn't that crazy about dried beef, he preferred chicken.

Tiger still did not like strangers and when I went out on a date, I would not only bring the guy home not only to meet my parents, but also to meet the cat.  There were some he liked better than others, but he never attacked any of them. Tiger was also real fond of my dad and would sit near him when he would sit on the couch and read or watch TV. Tiger and Baron were real special cats and members of our family. Tiger and Baron's stories will continue, but first, there was another stray that showed up at our door. Along came Princess.

Tiger 2, A Gray, Part-Siamese Kitten

Six days after we lost Tiger, on a Friday, a kitten was brought into my dad's office. A lady that worked under my dad had heard that dad lost a cat, so she surprised him and brought this tiny kitten in a box to the office. She didn't ask him beforehand because the person who had the kitten was going to take him and his litter mates to a river and drown them in a bag. She had become attached to this little kitten and didn't want that to happen to him, so she saved his life and brought him to work. Apparently, a Siamese cat had gotten out and gotten pregnant and had a litter of kittens that weren't Siamese. This kitten was part Siamese. He was tiny and was the runt of the litter. He was only six weeks old.

We hadn't planned on getting a kitten, I didn't know that much on how to take care of kittens and we had planned on adopting an adult cat. My dad brought this little fellow home in a box and this kitten immediately showed us his personality. He was very vocal and bright-eyed. He was a little gray-striped kitten. He was so tiny that we were afraid he'd get lost in the house and might get trapped somewhere, unable to get out. We tried to keep him in a laundry basket, but he kept escaping. We tried putting two laundry baskets together, one on top of the other and stuffed the spaces between them with towels. The kitten sat on the towels and used his weight to push the towels down through the holes between the two laundry baskets and escape.  This was one smart kitten. So, we went out to the pet store and got him a small cage to stay in at night. We put a litter box (a foil pan with cat litter in it) and gave him water in little foil pans that you would usually put a baked potato in. We wondered what we should name him. My dad suggested 'Tiger 2' and we liked it, so he became Tiger 2. He became my best friend.

He was very lively and playful. He jumped at anything that moved and he was fast. He was so smart, you could see that right away, in his eyes. His eyes were blue when we first got him, but over time, turned into a beautiful light green which looked stunning with his silvery-gray fur. He had dark gray stripes and as he got older, the stripes faded a bit, but they were always there. He could also be very noisy, he had an unusually loud voice for such a small kitten. My parents said it was the Siamese in him. At night, we would put a blanket over his cage so he would be quiet and go to sleep, but in the morning, he would demand loudly to be let out. I loved playing with him and he loved to play. We had to watch him with his teeth. He loved to bite when he played, but we knew those teeth would not always be that tiny, like little pins. He also liked to climb legs whether they were clad in blue jeans or panty hose. I think he got separated from his mother too early. We had a pink shag bathmat that we'd drape over the side of the bathtub. Tiger would suckle from that bathmat the way a kitten would suckle from his mother. We called the bathmat Tiger's 'pink mother.' Years later, my husband and I took it with us when we moved with Tiger to Fort Worth, Texas.

We took Tiger 2 to the vet and the vet wasn't very impressed with him because he was a runt, but Tiger 2 never was very impressed with that vet either and let him know it under no uncertain terms. Tiger 2 could put up a  good fight for such a tiny kitten. I wasn't real impressed with that vet either, I like the vet we have now much, much better, she is so much cleaner. We wanted to give Tiger 2 good care from day one. We got him his shots and we took good care of him from the very beginning. This cat would never be let outside to roam the neighborhood.

I remember when I went to summer camp that year, I was going around camp and showing everyone pictures of Tiger 2. My parents wrote me a letter at camp and told me all that Tiger 2 was up to. When I got back from camp a week later, Tiger had gotten a little bigger. Tiger 2 was helping me to cope with the loss of my first Tiger. We eventually dropped the '2' and started calling him Tiger.

Tiger grew quickly as most kittens do. He outgrew the cage quickly. He became a really beautiful cat. We got him a silver collar with little fake jewels on it and it looked great with his gray fur. He was still very active, playful and kitten-like.  He got big enough that we started keeping him in the basement at night like we did our first Tiger. We had a doorway that led to a landing and on one side was the back door and on the other side was the stairs leading to the basement. At night, we would put Tiger behind that door and close it. Tiger figured out how to open that door in a very short time. We would no sooner put him behind that door and he would open it and come back out. This door had a door knob, not one of those handles like you see on many doors nowadays. We had a portable dishwasher that we could roll across the kitchen on wheels and we would use it to block the door so that Tiger couldn't open the door back up when we put him in the basement. We had his litter box and bowls down there. It was a nice, big basement with that comfy sofa, so he had a nice place to hang out. He would still rather be upstairs with us, but at night, he tore around the house and made a racket when my parents were trying to sleep.

Tiger was a lot of fun. He also sassed my mom. That was fun to watch. My mom could be kind of overbearing and a little bossy sometimes. He would get up on the kitchen table, which was not allowed and my mom would say "Tiger, you get down off that table right now!" Tiger would look her in the eyes and give her a great big meow. It sounded like he was saying, "Make me!" She would tell him not to sass and he would meow back. This would go on for a little while until she finally picked him up and put him on the ground and he would still meow at her  after he got put on the ground. Tiger was stubborn. He had to get the last 'word' in.  My mom said that her kids didn't sass her but our cat did.

As Tiger got older, we had to get him 'fixed.' He was becoming aggressive towards certain strangers that would come to the house. In those days, my mom had groceries delivered to the house, she would phone in what she needed and they would bring them to the house. Tiger did not like the grocery delivery man and would bristle up and hiss when this guy brought the groceries into the house. Little did Tiger know that this delivery guy was also delivering his cat food. Tiger would yowl at the mailman when he came to drop the mail in the mailbox on our front porch. Tiger also did not like the meter reader either and we had to keep the cat out of the way when the meter reader would go into the basement to read the gas meter. Nowadays, it's all computerized, but back then, a person had to read the meter. One day, my mom was at work, my brother and I were at school and my grandmother was at our house. She did not know about Tiger's aggressive tendencies. The meter reader came to the door and grandma let him in. Tiger (who was full-grown by now) puffed up, hissed and chased the guy down the stairs. Then the guy ran back up the stairs with Tiger close on his heels.  Grandma held something in front of Tiger so the meter reader could escape. The meter reader left a red tag on the front door saying the meter reader couldn't read the meter today because -there was a list of reasons provided with the last one being a blank line. It read that the meter reader couldn't read the meter because of a "bad cat" which was written in on the last line. I can still remember my grandmother telling me about it when I got home from school. We had to mark the readings on the meter and mail it in. Getting Tiger 'fixed' did keep him from spraying but he always had aggressive tendencies towards certain human visitors he didn't want coming into his territory. He tried the aggression with a neighbor lady who visited us once, but she was experienced with many animals and she talked back to him and he stood down and let her pass.

Tiger had a fascination with running water. He didn't want to touch it but he liked to watch it. He liked to watch the washer fill. Our washer had a window in the lid (it was a top loader) and he would sit on top of the washer and watch it fill. He was also fascinated with the dishwasher. We had a portable dishwasher. The house we were living in was built in the 1950's and didn't come with a dishwasher. Even in the 1960's, a dishwasher was a rare thing. When my mother developed an allergy to dish detergent, her doctor said that dad would have to wash the dishes. Dad went out and bought a dishwasher. It was a Kitchenaid, it loaded from the top. We had a large, square kitchen and kept the dishwasher against the back wall until it was time to load it and hook it up to the sink. Tiger liked to catch a ride on it, so he would jump up on top of the dishwasher and one of us would roll it over to the sink. Then we'd load the dishwasher and hook it up to the faucet. There were two hoses attached to a big nozzle that would hook up to the faucet. Fresh water would run through one hose and used water would run through the other. When the dishwasher went through the rinse cycle, a large jet of water would spew out of this nozzle into the sink. Tiger loved to watch that. He would sit up on the dishwasher and wait for the rinse cycle, then he would watch the water spew out. After that, the dishwasher would go into the drying cycle and the lid got warm, so Tiger would sometimes curl up on top of the dishwasher until it got too warm.

Mom standing next to that old dishwasher that Tiger liked. Mom would have a fit if she thought this picture was up here, she didn't like the expression on her face in the photo.

Tiger was beautiful, smart and a lot of fun. He followed me around everywhere in the house and we bonded. He liked to hang out with me in my room, or in the basement, where I did my homework and studying.  We had a long hallway in that house where the bedrooms were and Tiger loved to take off and run like a wild cat down that hallway. At the end of the hallway was the bathroom and Tiger would run down the hallway and then slide down the slanted part of the end of the bathtub. One day mom was drawing a bath for my brother when Tiger took off down the hallway, slid down the back of the bathtub and landed in the water. Fortunately it wasn't very full and my mom was there. She and I caught Tiger and had to dry him off. I don't think he did the sliding into the bathtub thing after that.

Tiger could be very sneaky too. My mom and dad would leave for work early and take my brother to my grandma's where he would walk to school from there. I would be at home until the school bus came for me later. Every week day, my mom would call home from work, probably to make sure I was up. I would usually be fixing my lunch for school when she called. In the kitchen, we had an old wall phone with a very short cord. The cordless phones hadn't come out yet. One day, I was making a dried beef sandwich and had just laid the dried beef on the bread when she called. I answered the phone and the cord would not reach the counter where I had been making the sandwich. Suddenly, Tiger jumped up on the counter, took the dried beef off of my sandwich, got back on the floor and ate it very quickly. I was impressed with how he figured the whole thing out. I would usually give him treats of dried beef when I was making a sandwich but that day, he helped himself. It was very salty and I couldn't give him much, but he loved the stuff.

There was another time, after we had moved to Gahanna, Ohio, that my brother was on TV, on the news. It was something to do with the training school he was in and his job and how they are able to accommodate disabled people. It came on the evening news around 6 PM just as we were about to sit down to dinner. There was a hunk of corned beef sitting at dad's place, he was about to serve it up to the family. We all went into the family room to see my brother on TV. Tiger got on the table and took the corned beef right off of the table and started chowing down. I forget who caught him, but he got in big trouble for that and had to spend some time in the basement. That was his 'time out.'

My mom had a friend at work who really, really loved cats. She had several cats at home and these cats really had it made, she took the best care of them, like they were her kids. She was a kind, sweet lady and  I remember she sent me a beautiful card when we lost our first Tiger. Mom invited her over to our house one day. It was during the holidays and our Christmas tree was up. When this nice lady came over, Tiger knew right away that she seriously loved cats and really liked him. He took an instant liking to her. He showed off and went on a wild tear around the house. At one point he got into the Christmas tree and shot out of the middle of it. Of course this lady loved Tiger's antics. Tiger was always wary of strangers, but he knew she was no stranger and knew what a nice lady she was. There was another time, after we had moved to our house in Gahanna, Ohio, that my mom had friends over who didn't really like cats, they were 'dog people.' Tiger was all over them, getting on their laps, rubbing against their legs and stuff like that. They were nice about it, but didn't go out of their way to pet him or anything, My mom had me put Tiger in the basement so they wouldn't be so uncomfortable, but I still thought that was amusing.

It wasn't long after Tiger had grown up, that another really pretty brown tabby started hanging out at our house.  My mom said not to feed it because he'll start hanging around the house. I had already been feeding him treats. Tiger did not like seeing this strange cat show up at the door but he didn't feel threatened by him.Tiger was about to get a roommate.

Tiger Part 2

Tiger was our cat, he stayed with us, but he'd still go outside during the day. When my parents and grandmother were growing up, pets stayed outside. My grandmother lived on a farm and cats did the job of rodent control on the farm, cats did not live in the house. Also she thought the cat would be happier outside. Our neighbors left their cat out most of the time. Even my friend who had the black cat named 'Cinders' let her cat outside. You didn't keep cats inside then, apparently not even the pampered Persians on the cat food ads. Nowadays, our cats do not go outside, it's too dangerous, what with cars, unscrupulous humans and the occasional coyote, hawk or owl that visits the neighborhood. Back then, when Tiger wanted out and got let out, he would often be gone most of the day but would come back in the evening. Sometimes he would be gone for a couple of days and I would worry about him and call for him late at night. He would eventually return and I would be so relieved that he was back.

He would also eat the neighbor's dog food. The dog would be on a leash and barking wildly while Tiger polished off the food. My mom thought, if he likes dog food, she'll get him a can of dog food, but when she did, he turned it down cold, it was the challenge of having a dog after him while he ate that he enjoyed. The vet also told us not to give him dog food, that cat food was better for him. When Tiger first came to live with us, he would eat anything, but now that he had lived with us for a while, he got quite particular on what he was served for dinner. His favorite was 9-Lives Tuna and Egg. He also decided he no longer liked dry cat food.

He was getting into fights with other neighborhood cats and picked up all kinds of illnesses and injuries. We found a local vet. His office had a funny smell to it. Our current vet's office is like a doctor's office, it sparkles and has no smell. I met someone who worked there for a while and said the vet wanted everything perfectly clean, so I really like our current vet. Anyway, this vet we took Tiger to was a great big guy and he had a small practice on the east side of Columbus and it didn't have the clean feeling our current vet's office does. We didn't have a carrier, so we'd bring Tiger in on a leash. We couldn't find a cat collar that would fit him, so we bought a dog collar that fit him just fine. We had a heavy chain leash that looked like it was more for a large dog. Tiger, like any normal cat, didn't like going to the vet's and would growl the whole time he was there. We had to stay clear of other patients in the waiting room so he would not start a fight. Tiger would put up a fight when he got his temperature taken. Back then, the thermometer was placed in the rear, an indignity that no cat appreciated. Nowadays, they have a gadget that you just stick in the ear for about a second, which is easier on both the pet and the vet. When Tiger got prescribed pills to take, the vet tried to show us how to give Tiger a pill. Tiger spat the pill out with a vengeance each and every time the vet tried to give him a pill. Tiger would hiss and spit at the vet and would wriggle and fight like a wild banshee. By this time, Tiger had gotten really big, he weighed around 18 pounds and could really put up a fight. The vet finally gave up and said to crunch the pill up in his food. That worked for a while until Tiger got wise to us adding things to his food and wouldn't eat after we added medicine to his food.. After that, we had to get the medicine in liquid form and try to shoot it into his mouth with a hypodermic without the needle as fast as we could. We visited the vet's office frequently and my mom said that the vet bills were higher than the pediatrician bills.

One time, Tiger went out and didn't come back for three days. I thought for sure that we'd lost him. I would call for him several times a day, much to the annoyance of other people in the neighborhood. I was so afraid that somebody had taken him or he was trapped somewhere. Then, one afternoon, he finally showed up at our back porch, dragging one back leg behind him. The back leg was twisted in a sickening way. We don't know what happened to him, but wondered if he got hit by a car.  It was amazing that he made it back to our house because he was obviously in pain and it was hard to walk back, dragging that leg behind him, but I was glad that it was our house he came to. He knew we were his family and that we would make him feel better. We took him to the vet immediately. He had a broken leg and so the vet set it and put it in an ace bandage with a metal brace. He said Tiger's foot would always stick out now, unless we had a pin put in the joint. That was a very expensive procedure and we couldn't afford it. The vet said that Tiger wouldn't be in any discomfort, his foot would just stick out.  We decided we had to opt for that. After that, Tiger didn't go outside on his own any more.

After his leg healed, Tiger still wanted out. He would sit by the door and meow frequently. I would take him for walks around the neighborhood with his collar and leash. Actually, a harness would have been better, but I didn't know it at the time. He was the only cat I've ever had that would walk on a leash. He did, however, take me his way, through bushes, around yards, the places he used to go when he went outside on his own. He loved to check out the neighbor's dogs but could no longer irritate them by finishing off their food. He would take me through the neighborhood on days that it didn't rain. I didn't want to go through shrubbery when it was raining.

One time, he bit me, I forget why, but animals react with their instincts when they feel threatened, even domestic animals. We were out on a walk when he did. Why our vet hadn't given him a rabies shot right away is a mystery to me because every vet I have ever taken a pet to always makes sure our animals have had their shots. Anyway, Tiger got loose and we couldn't find him. I was afraid he would have to be tested for rabies and I would have to get the shots in the stomach (back then, rabies treatments for humans were administered to the stomach).  Thanks to some helpful neighborhood kids, Tiger was found in a basement window well and they held him there until we could pick him up. Tiger never developed any symptoms of rabies and I didn't have to get any shots, but Tiger got rabies and distemper shots after that. Tiger also didn't go out on any more walks on the leash.

Things started to get a little better for me. I was growing my hair out and found out ways that I could iron my hair and set it in orange juice cans to make it straighter because I hated having curly hair when the style was straight hair.. The straightening devices that are used nowadays didn't exist back then. I no longer had to wear corrective shoes and got some new glasses. My mom got a full-time job, the first she'd had in years and seemed much happier. I was involved with a youth group with my church and had a few friends. Best of all, I had Tiger and he was inside all of the time, I didn't have to worry about anyone taking him from me or him getting hurt. He seemed quite happy too.

Tiger continued to get more beautiful every day. Since we started feeding him, he got bigger and his markings became darker and more distinct. My dad would like to hold him, but Tiger didn't like to get held for very long and would growl and the growl would grow and my dad would have to let him loose. Tiger spent a lot of time on my bed, or I would spend time with Tiger in the basement on his sofa with him. It was nice when I was sick and Tiger would keep me company. When we made dinner, especially if it was chicken, he would sit out in the kitchen and make demands with that low meow of his, for some chicken. He always got some chicken scraps and on Thanksgiving, he would get some turkey. It was so much fun having a pet around during the holidays. Tiger didn't mess with the Christmas tree, we always had a real tree. He loved to sleep behind the tree. He liked to sniff the branches and just be around it. It probably reminded him of the bushes he sought solace in when he was on his own and liked the wonderful pine smell that it had.

We enjoyed Tiger tremendously and he seemed to like being with us. He didn't meow any longer to go outside, he preferred to watch the outside from the comfort of the window. I began reading as much as I could about cats. I had a book on cat and kitten care and frequently got 'Cat Fancy' magazines. I also got cat books from the library. I learned so much about cats and wanted to learn more. I talked about my cat more than my friends probably would have liked to hear, but I loved having a cat. My gym teacher was an older lady who loved cats and loved hearing about Tiger. Back then, gym classes were divided, the girls were in one class and the boys were in another. A lot of the girls didn't like the girls's gym teacher because she was old and could be very strict and firm. She had rules and didn't take any crap off of the popular girls. I got along with her just fine and she was always nice to me and this other girl in the class who liked cats. She would tell me about her kitties and I liked her.

Summer came and school ended for the year. At the end of July, my family and I took a trip to visit Appomattox in Maryland,  Williamsburg, Virginia, Virginia Beach and to visit my Aunt Bonnie and Uncle 'Tode' in Roanoke, Virginia. We boarded Tiger at the vet that we took him to while we were gone. My mom and dad loved to visit historical places and I loved Virginia Beach and visiting my cousins. When we went to Virginia Beach, it was my first time seeing the ocean and I loved it. My mom hated it because she was deathly afraid of the water. We had a balcony attached to our hotel room and I loved to sit out there and watch the waves roll in and out, while it made my mom a nervous wreck, the wave motion was soothing to me. When we came back to Columbus, we picked Tiger up at the vet. The vet noticed that Tiger had thrown up, which I thought was probably a hair ball but the vet was very alarmed about it. I think he ran some tests on Tiger or put him on medicine, but I don't exactly remember. Tiger got very sick and stopped eating a few days later. We took him back to the vet and the vet kept him overnight. The next day, I was at my grandma's house and mom called and said the vet called, she told me, "Poor old Tig didn't make it through the night." I was devastated and heartbroken. It was the first time I'd ever lost anybody, human or animal and this was my beloved cat. It really tore me up and and Tiger's loss upset my parents and brother as well.

A necropsy had to be done on Tiger at Ohio State University. A necropsy is like an autopsy, but on an animal, it's called a necropsy. The results showed that his kidneys had given out. It was called 'Chronic Nephrosis.'  What I think happened is that Tiger had FIV, Feline Immunodeficiency Virus. Nobody knew anything about it back then but now it is suspected that cats got it even back then and veterinary scientists didn't yet know what it was. Cats get it from getting into fights with infected cats. When the infected cat bites the other cat, the virus enters the bloodstream through saliva. It breaks down the immune system much in the same was HIV does to humans. Tiger got sick a lot and he got into a lot of cat fights, especially with that one feral long-haired cat. There is no cure for it, even today. There's not even an effective vaccine, although there are vaccines, they are not effective on all strains of FIV. I learned all of this from having a cat I had in the early 2000's, named 'Slinky' who was FIV positive. What I think happened is that Tiger, with his weakened immune system. he perhaps picked up something at the vet's office and his body probably just gave out from all of the stresses on it. He was only about 2 or 3 years old. Here is is 2013 and he's up on the Cat Channel on the internet. Tiger will not be forgotten.

Sometime after Tiger died, a neighbor called and complained that Tiger was eating their dog's food. Mom told her that it wasn't Tiger, that Tiger had died. It was that long-haired feral tiger cat, he was also going around eating the neighbor's dog's food just like Tiger had done. This cat showed up on our porch a few times and I would put some food out for him, but he never let me touch him. Tiger would have been furious to think that cat was coming around to his territory. After a while, that feral cat stopped coming around.

My parents said after some time had passed, to give us time to get over him, that they would take me to a place in Columbus called 'Cat Welfare' to adopt another cat. It didn't happen that way. Six days later, Tiger 2 came into our lives.

Tiger

Tiger was my very first cat and my first pet - ever. We never had pets in the house when I was little, I don't know why, we just didn't, maybe my parents didn't want to deal with an animal, I really don't know. Maybe they didn't want the mess, the inconvenience or the expense of a pet. With my parents, especially my mom, it was hard to tell. Tiger was truly a unique cat. He did the impossible. Tiger convinced my family -both parents included - to adopt him.

When I was 13, during the summer,  a big brown and black striped stray cat came around to visit us one day.  I had been wanting a cat. A friend of mine had just gotten a black cat and I went over to her house to see her and her cat and I thought that cat was really nice. She told me stories about her cat every day. The cat's name was 'Cinders' because it liked to lay in the litter box and being a black cat, he looked like he was covered with ashes. I had previously and erroneously thought that cats were delicate had to be pampered from seeing puffy Persians on cat food ads on TV. I was starting to learn, through my friend, that this was definitely not the case. Then there was this show on TV called 'Big Cats, Little Cats' and that really made me want a cat. That's when Tiger came into my life. Tiger, while just being himself, came into our lives and showed me what a strong tough predators domestic cats really are.

I remember, it was around July or August in the late 1960's when Tiger came on to our front porch. It was was a big square, covered porch with a wrought iron railing around the edge and then was surrounded by a hedge that had sweet-smelling flowers which flies loved. It was fun to shake the bushes and make the flies zoom around and buzz loudly. It was a hot day and this cat was probably looking for some cover away from the sun. I saw him on our porch, caught him and started rubbing him under his chin. At first, he started to growl, but slowly, the growling went away and it looked like he was smiling. I got him a saucer of milk. I didn't know then that cow's milk often gives cats indigestion. Back then, people put out a saucer of milk for a stray cat. He was hungry, so he lapped the milk right up.

He decided that this wasn't a bad place to hang out. I pet him and called him 'Tiger' because with those stripes, he looked like a tiger. He seemed to know that was his name. As it got darker, he went into the hedge for better security, but when I called out his name, he meowed. I called out his name several times and each time, he answered with a meow. He started to come around every day and learned to come to the back door which was just off the kitchen. I left treats outside for him, including a few table scraps.

My parents noticed him hanging around the house. He had a low, guttural meow and looked like a pretty tough guy and they liked that about him. He was intelligent and you could see it in his eyes. He was also a very pretty cat with those black stripes along with the white on his cheeks and chin and the light tan tummy with a line of spots. He wasn't a cuddly cat, he didn't like to be picked-up and he didn't like his tail or his back legs being touched in any way. I think he could have easily become feral had we not taken him in. He was still really cool and obviously ruled the neighborhood.

 Our neighbor's cat, a dainty little calico cat named Taffy noticed him too, when she went into heat and he noticed her too. One day, my grandmother was visiting and was cooking in the kitchen. I heard the strangest cat sounds coming from the back porch and wanted to see what the fuss was about. My grandmother grew up on a farm and knew EXACTLY what the fuss was all about and didn't want me looking out the back door to see what the fuss was all about. Perhaps she thought they wanted their privacy, but more likely, she just didn't want anything to do with it. A few months later, Taffy had a litter of kittens and one of them looked just like Tiger, except that he was gray. One of the other kittens looked like Taffy and I forget what the other kitten looked like, I think Taffy had a litter of 3 kittens. I remember the first time I went down to their basement and saw the kittens. It was the first time I'd ever seen newborn kittens that were only hours old. They were so tiny and their eyes were closed, but they knew where their mother was.

Tiger came around to our house every day and hung out in the bushes of the back yard. Sometimes he would sit on the shed we had that was attached to the house. My dad called it the garden house and the roof was easily accessible to our back porch. I think he could see what was going on with the birds and other animals in the neighborhood. We were feeding him every day now. My mother even bought a dry cat food that came in a pink box that looked like a milk carton and it was called 'Milkit.' Tiger was capturing the hearts of our family. He had already captured mine, but now he was capturing the hearts of my parents and even my brother. Sometimes, when my parents were unaware, I'd let him into the house briefly. 

I was in middle school, which back then, was called 'junior high school'. I was in seventh grade and getting used to going to different classes, rather than staying in one classroom all day long, which actually wasn't bad because it gave a long, boring day a little variety. Tiger still came to our house everyday and I fed him everyday. Occasionally, Tiger wouldn't show up for a couple of days and I worried that something might have happened to him. My mom thought someone else was also feeding him and that made me very angry that someone would try to take my cat away. I was already considering him my cat. Tiger was starting to put on a little weight, which was good because he was very skinny. He would get into a fight every once in a while, with a long haired tabby who I think was feral. This cat sometimes had the nerve to come into our yard which Tiger had staked out as his territory. This was not tolerated by Tiger and he would let his feelings be known to this intruder in a big, noisy way.

When the kittens got old enough, Taffy would bring them outside and occasionally, they would wander over to our yard.  The neighbor's boy named the kitten that looked like Tiger, Timmy. One day, I saw Tiger showing Timmy how to hunt, which I later found out was unusual because sometimes the father cat might harm or kill the kittens, but Tiger was being good to Timmy. as Timmy got older, his gray fur turned more brown and he looked even more like his dad.

Here's the only picture taken of Timmy, Tiger's son.

Unfortunately, our neighbors often left Taffy and her kittens outside and Timmy disappeared, we think some idiot stole him. It's really better to leave cats and kittens inside, there are so many terrible things that can happen to them outside. It was sad when he disappeared, he was turning into a really beautiful kitten and he was smart, just like his dad.

Meanwhile, Tiger was my best friend. He was not a lap cat, he hated being handled and he sported a lot of attitude, but he like to be petted on the head and rubbed on the chin and behind his ears. He would be with me and it made me feel happy when he was there. When I talked to him, he would meow his low meow. One thing I discovered about cats is the unconditional love they give, even the less cuddly, tough cats. They have a presence that makes you feel better. I wasn't very happy in school. This was in the late 60's when girls wore long, beautiful straight hair and mine was short and frizzy. I had to wear weird-looking old glasses that were just plain ugly and  also had to wear abominations called corrective shoes. I was born pigeon-toed with my hip out of joint and was forced to wear these hideous monstrosities until I was fourteen. I swear the people who designed this horrible footwear did their very best to make them as ugly and unattractive as humanly possible so kids like me could be ridiculed. Add that to the fact that I was overprotected and very sheltered by well-meaning parents, not very socially aware and looked like I was about 10 years old at the age of 13, so I was about as popular at school as someone carrying the plague. Add that to the fact that my parents were often  hassling me about my grades, so it was not the best of times for me. Tiger gave me solace and friendship. He gave me what nobody else could give me. He gave me unconditional love.

When Halloween came, we were afraid someone would play a cruel Halloween prank on him and maybe hurt him, so my parents, who had also grown fond of Tiger, let me take him into our house to stay for the first time. We bought him a litter box with cat litter and he had a water bowl and a food bowl. It was my responsibility to feed him, give him water and change his cat litter. We didn't get him a cat bed because he stayed in the basement at night and we had a comfortable sofa down there that he could sleep on and he had that whole sofa to himself which was so much better than the hard ground under the bushes. Tiger was  at that point, our cat, he was my first cat.