Mischief Hughes Shoup June 1998 - February 2011

In June of 1998, a coworker's purebred Siamese had a litter of kittens. I had to put down a stray I adopted that year due to feline leukemia and wanted another kitty. When my coworker told me about the litter, I immediately laid claim to the runt of the litter. I didn't care about the appearance, I didn't care about the sex, I just wanted the runt and I was going to name it Rascal. When August came and the kittens were ready to go to their new homes, I went to meet and pick up Rascal. While at my coworker's home, I decided to bring home two kittens. I felt that Rascal needed a playmate since I would be gone 10 hours a day. I knew it wouldn't make my roommate happy as we agreed upon one kitty, but I felt it was the right thing to do.

I remember deciding that I wanted the kitten that looked most like Rascal. Rascal was a classic tuxedo kitty and there happened to be another tuxie in the litter just like her. On the spot, I decided the other kitten, a female, would be Rascal's companion. As I was shooting the breeze with my coworker, I felt an itch on my foot. I looked down to see that the as yet unnamed kitten had scratched my foot and was staring with great fascination at the blood dripping down my foot. I should have known then exactly what I was getting myself into.

I brought the kittens home and predictably, my roommate wasn't happy. However, she helped me pick out a name for the kitten. Since she looked like she had dipped her nose in paint, her name from that day forward would be Mischief. It kind of fit with Rascal. What also fit with Rascal was Mischief. They were inseparable. Wherever one was, the other was not far behind. Getting two kittens that day was the best decision I've ever made.

Through the years, Mischief was a constant companion for Rascal and I. Mischief put up with a lot of crap from Rascal and had no problems letting us know it. Mischief was true to her part Siamese nature. She was talkative, she was inquisitive and she was a lover. She put up with a rotation of foster dogs and foster cats and only asked for a warm body to sleep on at night. She greeted visitors with a litany of complaints, but made them feel right at home when she slept with them. She was the first kitty to accept KIC and even slept with KIC in her pack and play. I had no reason to believe that our time with Mischief would be so short.

On February 14th, I had to make the difficult decision to have Mischief euthanized. During the previous week, she had one last go round with the foster dogs and inexplicably, her health started to decline after that. Less than one week after the incident, she started suffering from congestive heart failure. It seems that her heart wasn't as strong and healthy as it should have been, though we couldn't have known as she never showed any outward signs. I took her into the vet first thing but knew that by the end of the day, it would be her last day with us. I hope she felt my love for her when she took her last breath.

I wish that I had been more appreciative of my time with her. She always seemed to know when I needed her most and gave me comfort in my times of need. Her sister and I miss her very much and not a day goes by that I don't feel a twinge in my heart for the kitty she was. I know that when it's your time to cross over, there's a reason you're needed on the other side and I know someday I'll know what that reason is, but until then, I'll miss her something fierce.

Rest in Peace, Miss Mischief Hughes Shoup. You are gone too soon, but you'll never be forgotten.

Ouch

Whomever coined the phrase "look before you leap" had me in mind, I swear. When animals and children are involved, I tend to leap and then look around confused when things aren't as I expected. I was contacted by a previous HART adopter about some kittens living under a shed in December 2010. I didn't think to ask questions like "how old are they?" or "are they feral?" or "honey, can I take in three new fosters?" I leapt and then looked back and said "Oh. Whoops."

The kittehs came with names: Garfield, Morris and Shadoe (my spelling to differentiate her from the millyun other "Shadows" out there). Garfield, straight outta the box is a dude. Just a dude. He'll hang with you, he'll clean your hair, he'll play with you or he'll do his own thang. He don't care. Morris has always wanted to be friendly but stopped short EVERY single time. Shadoe is just feral. She don't need you, she don't like you, she ain't gonna like you, she don't need nuthin', thank you very much. Now where's her food?? None of that really matters to me because for the most part, once you're one of my fosters, you'll always have a home. Unless you're on notice like Havoc and Mayhem, but I digress.

The beeyootiful picture you see on the top right is a picture of Morris' hips and pelvis. With or without a veterinary degree (and I'm not a vet, I just play one on television) it's pretty clear to see that his left hip ain't quite right. When he went in to have a couple of appendages removed (don't worry, it was just his testicles), I asked the vet to check out his hips. I was concerned that he had neuropathy which would cause a weakness that would never go away. Ever. What I wasn't prepared for was a diagnosis that would cause my heart to stumble. At some point, before he was found living under a shed with his siblings, Morris had both hips and his pelvis broken. His pelvis has healed, though it is wonky, and one of his hips has healed, though it also healed wonky. His left hip is still broken and hurts him every time he walks. He's been living like that before December. At a minimum, he's been in constant pain for at least three months!! And yet he continues to walk, he continues to eat and he loves to antagonize the other cats! Such an indominable spirit to go that long in constant pain.

The vets say he will need a surgery on both his hips to fix the broken hip and to heal the other hip properly. The total cost will be approximately $3000, including aftercare. If you have been looking for a worthwhile cause to donate to, look no further than his guy. His chances of being adopted and being a sweet and loving cat to a wonderful family will significantly increase with this surgery, not to mention his overall quality of life. Can you help me, and HART, give him the normal life he needs??

Can you hear me now?

Since the very first ultrasound where you could see KICs visage, I knew she would come out looking like her father, and she did. I often said I needed a maternity test to prove I was her mother (apparently the scars and stretch marks weren't enough to prove I was her mother). At around 11 months, I KNEW KIC was my kid. She, much to my chagrin, inherited my tiny, crooked ear canals. Yeay her. What this meant for her was round the clock antibiotics for the ear infections that plagued her. It came as no surprise when I first heard the words "She'll need tubes." Nor did it come as a surprise when I heard "She'll need another set of tubes and an adenoid removal." *sigh* On February 25th, that's exactly what we did...KIC got a second set of tubes and her adenoids removed.

It's tough to explain to a three year old why they are at the hospital and why they can't eat or drink. The well equipped play room helped with the distraction quotient and we all admired the yellow pajamas. I would like to know how come kids get pants when adults don't? Kids have far LESS modesty than adults yet they get to cover up more? Seems kind of odd. The day went well and Brent and I were very relieved to have it over and done with. If your child ever has to have surgery and you have to go in and "assist' with the anesthesia aspect, I HIGHLY recommend asking for a lil something to take the edge off. Irish carbomb, jello shooter, shot of morphine, whatever it takes man. If you've been there, you feel my pain. If you haven't, I pray that you don't ever have to know what I'm talking about. Seriously.

The recovery period is a two week period. TIC alternates between happily zooming around and being cranky to the max. This too shall pass and the liquor cabinet can ALWAYS be restocked.

Huge thanks to everyone for the calls, the emails, the texts, the lovely card in the mail and the Facebook posts. We appreciated every one of them and thank you for thinking of us. Ya'll are the best, seriously!

Shot through the heart

As many of you know, my family and I foster dogs and cats. We've been fostering dogs before KIC was even a gleam in our eye and cats shortly after she was born. KIC actively interacts with them and loves them in her own way. The hound that can't stand new people in our home? According to KIC that's "my Havoc" (real names changed to protect the idiot). And KIC manages to find the good in all the animals as well. The same hound who steals her food EVERY BLESSED CHANCE HE GETS...."Havoc likes to share with me." If by sharing you mean being your personal food vaccum, then you're right! But, just as the fosters find a place in my heart, they find a place in KICs heart too.

Yesterday, we found a potential home for one of our fosters, Garfield. He's a cool cat, but there hasn't been a whole lot in the way of interaction with he and KIC. On the way home from the cat adoption event, I was updating Minga on the cat inventory and letting her know that Garfield found his potential home. KIC starts assertively saying that Garfield was "my kitty!!" I was taken aback by it but thought no more of it as she fell asleep soon after. Silly Mommy!

Fast forward to bath night last night. Aunt Terri asks Kaitlyn how her day was yesterday. FIRST BLESSED THING out of Kaitlyn's mouth: "My mommy gave away my kitty!" Apparently, I am an awful mom and I give away all of Kaitlyn's things. Okay, well, that's partly true, but this is the same child who a few months before, had no problems announcing to anyone who would listen that "Kitties need a home!!" Honestly!

Coming soon, we'll be taking donations for KIC's therapy. In the meantime, I'll be licking my wounds in the corner.

Forgive me, bloggers, for I have sinned...

...it's been over a month since my last post!

I am happy to report that TIC is now KIC (Kid in Chief). She made it to the three year old milestone with a little blood, sweat and tears from those closest to her. We had a big celebration at the local rec center with her closest friends and the sugar high from the Buzz/Boody (Woody for those of you unfamiliar with KIC speak) got her through to bedtime! Wahoo! We had a lovely dinner with Minga and Grandpa and then we allllllllllllllll had an early bed time. It was seriously like someone unleashed a canister of sleeping gas in the Shoup House. Crafts and time on the playground will do that to you!

In recent developments, KIC has moved into a big girl bed. She set some ground rules last night by informing me that "Big girl bed not for mommy, not for daddy, not for Aunt Terri and not for Uncle Chris. Uncle Chris has to go to work and dfhahasdh". Clearly I didn't quite catch that last part. I'm not sure if the list of those who are not allowed in the bed will grow as we get more visitors to our house, but if your name gets added, you'll be in VERY good company, I assure you.

KIC has transition well into her new preschool classroom. I think it helps that there were kids she knew from the twos up there with her. Her friend Adam was happy to see her. KIC in turn looked at him like she'd never seen him before. I know that if her friend Allie was in that classroom, the two of them would rule the school. Little blonde terrors! I mean, they are exactly what little girls should be: sugar and spice and everything nice! KIC is coloring in the lines, she's learning more Spanish, she's eating more consistently with utensils...She's growing up so fast! This morning, she put on her shoes all by herself and on the right feet too! After lavishing praise on her accomplishment, I said "KIC, what am I going to do when you don't need me any more???" I think she could hear the despair in my voice because she came running up to me and gave me a hug and said "I love you too, Mommy!" Seriously, I love that kid. And I'm going to remember moments like that when she's a teenager, slamming her door and telling me how much she hates me!

In other news, KIC will undergo the knife on February 25th. Please pray that I get through this without copious amounts of alcohol. I'm not sure they'll discharge your kid if it's clear you're under the influence! Since she was 11 months old, she's had chronic ear infections that her first set of tubes weren't able to resolve. Her last ear infection was the worst I've seen ever and the tubes are now long gone. Her doctor recommended a second set of tubes as well as removing her adenoids in the hopes that this time around, the ear infections will stop. It's a common procedure and one I had when I was a kid, but it doesn't really make the stay in the waiting room any easier!!!

That's it for now! Oh, if you have room in your heart and home, there's a big goofy hound named Howard who is looking for a permanent, or even a temporary home until he can find his forever home. He's running out of time...

Until next time, hug your kids and pet your animals!

Why I'm Always Late

Those of you who know me know that I am almost always late. It's definitely a result of cramming too much into a day, but I get that the message that it sends is that the other person's time is unimportant, it's all about me. So, I'm trying to be more punctual. There have been a couple of occasions recently where friends have remarked on my punctuality. Never a good sign. LOL

However, when TIC is involved it is nearly impossible to be on time. Fellow parents, you all know what I'm talking about. Non-parents, you don't get it and I understand that. I didn't get it prior to TIC either. So, I've broken down the timeliness failures in childhood phases. My caveat is that I, of course, haven't experienced the timeliness failures for all phases, so insert your own stories where appropriate.

Newborn Phase:
Here's how it goes down: Yeay! You have a brand new baby but you hardly ever leave the house. Bad bad germs, everywhere, don't expose your baby, etc etc. I get it, I totally do. But when it comes time to actually leave the house with your baby, you're unprepared timewise. You've had your diaper bag packed for MONTHS in anticipation of the baby. Get the baby dressed in a cute, stain free, clean outfit, get them in the carrier, get your coat, keys, diaper bag, BAM! You're out the door. Except, wait! When did you last change the baby's diaper? Should you do that before you go out? K, quick diaper change. Coat on, ready to go...uhhh, when did the kid eat last? Do we have supplies for eating while we're out? Shoot! No. You're thinking, okay, I'm going to be a little late, they'll understand and the cute baby will help. Now you're laden with the supplies you need and have locked the door to the house on the way to the car and the puke explosion happens. You hang your head, resignedly open the door, change the baby into a fresh outfit. Now you're really ready! Get to your destination 15-20 minutes late, minimum. Offer apologies and show tiny baby, receive coos, all is forgiven.

Infant Phase:
At about the 2-3 month mark, you've gone out at least a handful of times and are feeling like a pro. You know what you need to have for the diaper bag, you have feeding supplies, you have outfits, diapers, wipes...You are SET! But you realize you haven't done an inventory of the diaper bag since the last time you went out. K, no problem. Quick inventory and restock and you're good to go (you swear you'll do this 15 minutes earlier next time). Your child is in a reasonably clean (one, teeny, tiny stain) outfit that matches, you're in clean clothes (though you haven't showered in at least a day...you think), grab baby, grab diaper bag, grab keys and you're out the door. But wait! Is that poop you smell? Yup, suuuuuuuuuuuuuuure is. You hang your head, go upstairs and realize said poopy diaper is now a blow out! Awesome. You change the diaper, hose down your child, change their clothes and head out. You arrive at your destination 15-20 minutes late, offer an apologetic smile and present a cute baby with a gummy smile. All is forgiven. This repeats until the child is about 18 months old.

Toddler Phase:
By this time, if you don't have the basics of getting out of the house down, your whole day is shot. You now spend at least an hour in advance making sure you have all the necessary items for a trip out. You have learned your lesson regarding food and diaper changes, so your kid is fed, diaper changed and ready to go. The outfit doesn't match, only has a couple of stains, but at least the garb is weather appropriate. Your child has outgrown the carrier, so transport from the house to the car is not as easy, but you got this! All you have to do is grab your keys, grab your kid, grab the diaper bag, shut the door and you're so good you're golden! WAIT!!! You left blanky behind! Fine, some concessions can be made. You go back in to retrieve the desired item. You get the child settled in the car...do I have the stroller? Do I need it? No and yes. You head in, grab the stroller, throw it in the trunk, you're on your...is that poop I smell?? SONOFA....back inside you go, change the clothes...No, it's not play time, put on your clothes! PUT ON YOUR CLOTHES RIGHT NOW!! FINE! No clothes, TIME OUT! (you tap your foot waiting) You're ready to put on your clothes? Okay, let's do that and go so we can go see Mommy's friend. You arrive 20 minutes late with a toddler in mismatched clothes that has some sort of unidentifiable gook on them, profusely apologize and show your cute toddler. Apology met with glare as you offer up a fervent prayer that toddler will behave. Promise to be on time next time.

Preschool Phase:
Thus far, the preschool phase has wiped out any semblance of sticking to a timeline. If the outfit isn't up to par, then we are subject to teeth gnashing, general flailing and complete indifference to conflict resolution. Awesome. Get that sorted out, head downstairs with child wearing completely inappropriate outfit for the weather, but at least they are dressed. Time to go. "Mommy, I need a snack, mommy I need water, mommy mommy mommy." "We will get those when we go out." "Mommy, do you have my bedroll for school?" "No, I'll get it now." "Mommy, do you have my backpack?" "No, I'll get it now." "Mommy, do you have your backpack?" "No, I'll get it now. TIC, have you seen Mommy's badge?" "Here it is, Mommy, I find it for you..." "Thanks, TIC, where was it?" "On my table. " The litany goes on and on and on. Generally speaking, since I start five hours in advance (you should see the bags under my eyes), we're only five minutes late, but I swear it feels like it takes us DAYS to get ready and get out the door. On the mornings when I am able to slip out the door because Daddy is doing drop off, I take an hour to get ready and get to my destination vs three.

Moral of the story: Children are the time suck gremlins of the world, but one gummy smile and all is forgiven!

Kaitlynisms Part Deux

Minus a couple of incidents with fosters that shall not be mentioned ever again, it's been relatively uneventful in the Shoup House. However, there have been some Kaitlynisms worth sharing.

Yes I did!
Aunt Terri and I had a conversation before Christmas in which I would predict TIC's innocent ability to take full credit for Christmas gifts to family. I am proud to say that it went down exactly as I predicted. I shall provide you an excerpt.
Insert relative name here: "Kaitlyn, did you get this for me?"
TIC: "YEAH!" said with the certainty and assuredness of a kid saying they wanted a free lollipop.
Relative: "Thank you, Kaitlyn! I really love it."
TIC: "You welcome!" said as though she knew she was bestowing upon them the best gift they will receive in their lives ever.

I Got Game
A fact became really clear to me recently. We need to organize more play dates for TIC. She tries to emulate those she is around most, and lately that has been Brent and I. In many respects (potty training, getting yourself dressed, learning how NOT to trip and fall while holding a plate of food) this is good. In other ways, like trying to play video games, the spirit is willing, the attention span and coordination aren't quite there yet. Neverthelss, that didn't stop me from purchasing a game that I thought was close to her level of coordination. The name of the game is not important, but what was important to TIC was the fact that this was HER game for HER to play and Daddy helps her play it when she's not watching the Backyardigans. She was SO excited about this that when I got home on the day she opened the game, her delighted cries could be heard two doors down. "I got game, Mommy!!! I GOT GAME!!!!!!!!!!" I'm sure none of the neighbors who overheard thought she was talking about basketball, but stranger things have happened.

My little veterinarian
As I mentioned before, TIC got a Barbie vet set for Christmas. She really likes playing with the kittens and sometimes emulates me giving them meds. One day she discovered the kitty sized furminator in the basement. Ping Pong, a wee kitten of about 12 weeks, became her target. She put him up on her picnic table and proceeded to brush "him". The guard was still on the furminator, so no harm came to him or her, but he was admonished very sternly a couple of times for trying to get away. To his credit, he also kept coming back for more. Silly kitten.

That's all for now. Happy New Year! Here's hoping we all have a wonder 2011, no matter how it has started out!