So last week, I took a little day trip to Toronto for work and flew with the new Porter airline. For anyone not familiar with Porter, it recently opened business at the Toronto City Centre airport and is geared toward the Ottawa-Toronto business commuter and with plans to expand.
It was luxury compared to what flying is now adays on your typically commercial flight. It was a small Bombardier jet with only 2 leather seats across. Despite the short flight, they served a small meal with real glasses!! And real food!! like yogurt & granola, cheese & crackers, chocolate, sandwiches on real whole grain bread, and free wine and beer!!! I was impressed. Bonus: no crying children or cranky airline attendants.
I am one of those people who misses meals even on Air Canada flights - I mean, sure it was kinda gross, but there was a certain standard of service and that standard is severely and sadly lacking now. Porter brings back that romance of flying, even in just a 60 minute flight.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Whiskey's diagnosis
It turns out Whiskey had feline distemper, which is fatal. Kittens are more susceptible to distemper, and Whiskey wasn't vaccinated against it. We felt a bit better knowing it wasn't anything we did, and that there was nothing we could have done.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
One of life's lessons
For me, writing is cathartic. And as much as I don't want to open this blog with sad stories, I am compelled to write about last week's most significant event because I just need to get it out.
Mark and I are foster parents for the Humane Society, and last week we took in our third cat. She was an 8 month old kitten named Whiskey, a little calico who's favorite place was curled up beside us on the couch. She was by far my favorite foster cat to date. We picked her up on a Thursday, and over the next three days, we gave her her prescribed meds for a cat cold. But a few days later, on Monday, she began vomiting. Constantly. We noticed she wasn't eating or drinking anymore and was becoming increasingly weak. We couldn't get her back to the Humane Society before it closed on Wednesday, so we were going to bring her in on Thursday a.m. Wednesday evening, she seemed okay, nothing alarming. But over the course of the night, she just kept getting worse, despite our efforts to hydrate her. By 1 a.m., it was obvious she wasn't going to survive.
Mark and I stayed up pretty much all night worrying over her. It was particularly upsetting when she rolled off the bed, and began to crawl underneath the bed. We knew that she was probably looking for a place to die. She was so pathetic, when she had only been so sweet and affectionate a few days before. She couldn't even walk, but only crawl. Her eyes were glazed, large, and unfocused. After her second attempt to crawl under the bed, Mark put her in a little box that we'd set out for her as a bed that had a blanket in it, and she stayed there until she died. For the next hour, her breathing went from shallow and rapid to deep and slow. Eventually, she started making funny noises. And eventually she vomited. By this time, I was kneeling by her and her chest wasn't moving up and down anymore but her heart was still beating, although barely. Her eyes were slowly fading, and I think she was already pretty much dead after she vomited. I think the most upsetting thing was watching her eyes change, and just knowing the moment when she was gone.
Mark and I have never experienced death before, and it is something really powerful and upsetting. It is amazing and very moving having watched Whiskey pass on. I'm sure the feelings are a lot like experiencing birth, too. I can't really explain it. It's a thing that is so much more powerful than us...I really can't explain it....I can't imagine how much more upsetting and moving it is when it's a human loved one.
Mark and I are foster parents for the Humane Society, and last week we took in our third cat. She was an 8 month old kitten named Whiskey, a little calico who's favorite place was curled up beside us on the couch. She was by far my favorite foster cat to date. We picked her up on a Thursday, and over the next three days, we gave her her prescribed meds for a cat cold. But a few days later, on Monday, she began vomiting. Constantly. We noticed she wasn't eating or drinking anymore and was becoming increasingly weak. We couldn't get her back to the Humane Society before it closed on Wednesday, so we were going to bring her in on Thursday a.m. Wednesday evening, she seemed okay, nothing alarming. But over the course of the night, she just kept getting worse, despite our efforts to hydrate her. By 1 a.m., it was obvious she wasn't going to survive.
Mark and I stayed up pretty much all night worrying over her. It was particularly upsetting when she rolled off the bed, and began to crawl underneath the bed. We knew that she was probably looking for a place to die. She was so pathetic, when she had only been so sweet and affectionate a few days before. She couldn't even walk, but only crawl. Her eyes were glazed, large, and unfocused. After her second attempt to crawl under the bed, Mark put her in a little box that we'd set out for her as a bed that had a blanket in it, and she stayed there until she died. For the next hour, her breathing went from shallow and rapid to deep and slow. Eventually, she started making funny noises. And eventually she vomited. By this time, I was kneeling by her and her chest wasn't moving up and down anymore but her heart was still beating, although barely. Her eyes were slowly fading, and I think she was already pretty much dead after she vomited. I think the most upsetting thing was watching her eyes change, and just knowing the moment when she was gone.
Mark and I have never experienced death before, and it is something really powerful and upsetting. It is amazing and very moving having watched Whiskey pass on. I'm sure the feelings are a lot like experiencing birth, too. I can't really explain it. It's a thing that is so much more powerful than us...I really can't explain it....I can't imagine how much more upsetting and moving it is when it's a human loved one.
A blog upside Mark's head
He who controls the remote controls....the blog? While Mark tends to his NFL Sunday couchfest, he claims he wants creative control over this blog spot that I have impulsively created. To such a statement, I scoff and fire a dirty look his way. We are a couple! We make decisions jointly! And besides, I simply can't relinquish my control, it's just against my Taurus nature.
Anyway, remote control aside, this is intended as a shared space for mutual musings about whatever. We'll see how value-added we are to the blogging world as time goes by. Thanks for paying attention!
Anyway, remote control aside, this is intended as a shared space for mutual musings about whatever. We'll see how value-added we are to the blogging world as time goes by. Thanks for paying attention!
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