I struggled with what to title this post, and then I googled ‘death of a cat’ and up popped some articles on dealing with grief and deciding on euthanasia and there it was. The title.

So the cat, Piglet, is no more.

The last few weeks saw him lose body weight at a startling rate, a by-product of not really eating anything, which was a side effect of what we assume was an intestinal blockage.  There was a decision not to treat the blockage as he was already an elderly cat.  He was also limping and had lost much of his fur as well.  A colleague told me this week that cats are very good at masking their pain. We kept thinking that he seemed to be okay in spirit, that he was still purring.  Apparently this is deceptive.

This afternoon, his last day, he followed me out to the front door as I let the dog out.  So I let him go outside too. And he sort of became his old self again, sniffing the plants, wandering around the bushes, settling down in the leaves.  And he seemed happy so I left him there.  And went out.

I returned home a couple of hours later and he was nowhere to be found.  Which is not great when there is a set vet’s appointment.  I called for him and searched in the dark.  I left the gate on the top of the stairs to our deck open as I knew he couldn’t climb over it anymore.  In the summer, he could still jump the whole thing.

I apologized to Mark as I assumed he was going to have to cancel the appointment.  He admitted that he was sort of relieved, as it would make telling the boys that the cat went outside and didn’t come back an awful lot easier if it wasn’t a lie.

But he found him.  He was under the deck, cowering, unable to even walk up the stairs.  Mark wondered again if he was doing the right thing, as he brought him into the house to get ready to go.  Then Piggie walked straight into a wall and stumbled into the kitchen.

Yes. It was time to go. A gentle death. Peace be with you.

(Mark’s upset. That was a hard decision for him. We’ll crack open a bottle of wine later and say cheers.)

I was really interested to participate in this blog tour, by Mom Central Canada.  I’ve been talking a lot about the flu season this year, online (especially on twitter) and in person with just about everyone – in particular our vaccination experience.

So our family decided, after (let’s be honest) some confusing media messages, that we were going to get vaccinated against H1N1.  My primary concern was my youngest, Callum, who has a history of respiratory distress. We all got protected so he would be more protected.  That was 3 weeks ago, so according to current information, he’s due for a booster, which we’ll get in the next 10 days or so.

We’re also taking vitamin D, supplementing with vitamins for the first time ever.  My kids, luckily, usually eat a pretty well-rounded diet; they are not really fussy eaters.  But I wanted some extra protection this year.

As the weeks have gone on, we’ve all been able to access better information about what’s happening.  Ontario’s Ministry of Health and Long Term Care now has some fairly comprehensive resources to help us all out.  There’s an updated page on flu clinics around the province, linking you to public health websites.  There’s also an influenza assessment tool so you can figure out if your child or other loved one needs medical attention.

I have two good friends who have had this flu in the past few weeks, two friends who very uncharacteristically took at least a couple of weeks off of work, and told me it’s the worst thing they’ve ever experienced.  I hope that with more and more clear information, we can all protect our kids and families in whatever way we need to.

I wrote this post while participating in a blog tour campaign by Mom Central and received a Mom Central gift pack to thank me for taking the time to participate.

Not much. Busy with work (travelling out of town, working late). Nothing too exciting going on.

So – go here, go forth and win a comfy pillow, if you want.

I don’t know her that well. I do know that I packed hundreds of swag bags at the People’s Party with her and had a blast even getting to know her for a few minutes. Jeebus – the power of the internet is such that I just managed to find a picture of me standing across from her, probably listening to something she was saying, packing those bags.

Thank you Amanda Magee for having that photo on Flickr. Okay, you can BARELY see us, but still! At least you know I’m not talking out my butt.

I had started reading her blog before BlogHer, Free Anissa, where she had re-launched her bloggy-self  following her daughter’s recovery from cancer, which had been the focus of her previous blog.  I have been reading Aiming Low since she started it, just before BlogHer.  Well, hell, that’s how we roll around here. We aim REALLY low.

And meeting her in person, she is the same as she is on twitter, on her blog. She’s hilarious. And vibrant, and full of life.

Now she’s in an ICU after suffering a stroke.  It’s quite serious.

My thoughts are with her, her family (she has a husband and 3 kids), and her close friends.  We are all wishing you well, across the interwebs, around the world.

You can help, if you want.

And, like me, you can hope to hear good news on the updates.

I haven’t been reading Neil’s blog that long, only probably 6 months, maybe a bit longer.  I met him (sort of) at BlogHer.  One of my favourite things that he does is think about this “community” that is blogging and twitter, as we are in some of the same virtual circles.  He’s watching, thinking, analyzing, discussing.  And he’s one of those people who is a community builder, open to meeting new people, having different conversations, rather than cliquey.  I like that.

So when he announced his Great Interview Experiment of 2009, I decided to play along.  I got to be interviewed (thanks Erika!), and I got to do some interviewing.  And so I made 2 new connections.

I’d like to introduce you to Denise, from Eat Play Love.  She’s from Colorado, she’s a mom to 2 young girls, and she has a husband with a pretty cool job.  Also, she seems like a pretty positive, uplifting and humorous person herself. Her answers are in purple.

1. You have two daughters. How often do you get asked about having sons? (I ask as the mother of two boys who is always asked about daughters!)
I think I most often get asked if I am done having children or if I am ready for number 3.  Then the typical, are you trying for a boy question comes up. But the answer they always get is I am DONE. Funny enough I have 3 older brothers, so my parents went through the same thing. I guess they felt the family was complete when I came along!

Just because my mother brought me some of my favourite flowers on the weekend.

And just because I need to learn how to use my camera properly, so some practicing going on here.

Next up, the elusive holiday card photo of the boys. Fun times!

A company sent me an email the other day, out of the blue, asking me to promote a contest.  Just because it would be a nice thing to promote.

I wrote back, saying I couldn’t really do something like that for nothing, because you really want me to interrupt my journal to talk about a contest, just to be nice?

Ah ha!  This is why I have been feeling unsettled about a bunch of product reviews I have agreed to do.  That I wanted to do.

Because it’s kind of weird to be talking about my kids and my life and suddenly talk about a cleaning product or whatever. In a way that promotes it.

So here we go, somewhere else.  And you should go, you Canadians you, for I have free Green Works laundry detergent for you.

There. That feels better.

(I’ll still point you over there when something is going on but I feel like I needed to keep it away from my life journal. This space is not for advertising. That’s just my opinion, by the way.)

I can’t even remember what Oliver was like at 2. I was in a newborn haze of sleep deprivation and nursing and what a fresh hell that was.  And we were in England and we all got sick and oh thank god for the blog, I can read about it all. [Oh dear.]

So Oliver was speaking a lot. And starting to count. Oh.

Because we seem to think Callum is a genius when he does these things.  Damn, turns out you’re just normal, kid.

But you’re cute.  And you’re two.  And you’re WAY cheekier than him, I don’t need to check the archives for that.

You have a passion never displayed by your brother.  You throw yourself on the ground with such force when you don’t like something.  You yell, you hit, you bite, you throw, you even spit (raspberry) in my face when you really don’t like what I have to say at times when you are tired and cranky. Oh, you are a little feisty thing.

But you’re also cuddly, a hugger, a kisser, who runs to hug his Mummy every day after daycare.  Who still loves him dummies.  Who says please and thank you quite often. Who snuggles stuffed animals. Who loves to dance. Who’s a champion sleeper. If only your brother would sleep in so long.

Happy birthday, little boy. Can’t believe you’re already two.

A bunch of people we love came for a party and it was good.

Oliver says to me, out of the blue, as he’s brushing his teeth last night (which is how these things come, out of the blue, rather than following the question ‘how was school today?’ or ‘what did you learn about at school today?’ , which are normally followed by silence. Like he’s already 17.):

“Mummy, when I am big like Daddy, can I be in the war-d?”

“The what?”

“The war-d.  The war-d where the people are dead.”

“Oh the WAR. Oh you’ve been learning about Remembrance Day, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, Poppy Day!”

“Bud[aside: I have started calling them Bud, as in short for Buddy, and I don't know why. I think I should stop.], I hope that you won’t go to a war. I don’t want you to go to a war. I want there to be peace.”

Commence whining, as the school aged child reverts to the preschooler, “but I WANNA go to the WAR-D”.

I still want to protect him from stuff that isn’t pleasant, you know?  Couldn’t they just be learning about the soldiers that are fighting now?  Rather than doing so much remembering?  Couldn’t they just wait a little longer to start remembering?

*

The cat, Piglet, is quite likely on his last legs.  I think he’s used up of many of his 9 lives.

He’s lost 1/2 his body weight in the last few weeks.  Although interested in food, he doesn’t eat it, he just sort of licks it.

Mark has spent a lot of time and money at the vet with no real outcome other than he probably has some kind of gastro-intestinal blockage.  Nothing is going in, and nothing is coming out, if you get my drift.

He said to me one day that he wasn’t sure he would be bringing him home from the vet, and he wasn’t sure what to do about telling the kids.

For this pet, I think we do nothing.  We don’t prepare them, and we don’t tell them a lot.  It would be different if it was our dog, Piper.

They have never really interacted with the cat.  He’s a loner who lives mostly in the basement or outside (well, he used to go out and hunt. Not anymore.) Only since the cat has been sick have they even pet the cat before.  (Another consequence of illness; he’s a hell of a lot friendlier than he used to be) Literally, the first time Callum stroked the cat was last week.

He’ll slip away, either naturally or assisted, sometime in the next weeks or months, and we just won’t really mention it until they notice.  Because to be honest, I am not sure they would notice for a while.

Because I don’t want to have to explain much right now.  Because they seem too young and so far (cross fingers/arms/legs/toes/etc.) untouched by grief. And I want to keep them that way as long as possible.

When I had no children, not a care in the world, freedom baby yeah more disposable income when I lived in the UK, I happened to develop an Orla Kiely fetish.

I have spoken of my love for her wares before.

This love, it does not end.  I am still faithful to her. There are many Orla Kiely-branded items in this house, from handbags to wellies to wallets to dishes.

Recently, I came across a shopping bag in the basement, a bag that has traveled across the ocean with us.  It’s a bag that is from Orla Kiely’s flagship London store, a place that when I walk into I sort of spontaneously combust.  (LOOK AT IT!)

What am I to do with this bag? I don’t need it. I am not going to use it again. It’s collecting dust. BUT it’s beautiful. It’s one of my favourite patterns.

(Am I weird? When I see some of her patterns, I literally have a physical response. Like heart palpitations. Like the flutter of new love.  I really, truly adore her patterns.)

An idea suddenly sprang forth.  I have some Ikea art all over the house, stuff bought as a student or when I was being really cheap, that I’d really like to replace. But I want to replace it with decent stuff and I don’t have the resources to do that yet.

I had an A-Ha moment. I got some scissors and glue.

Not bad, eh? Too bad I can’t cut straight. Will work until I win the lottery and commission some original art (ha ha).  Just don’t look too closely or it looks like crap. Sorry, Orla. I still love you!!