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Working Title
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I should have been born a cat
Welcome to Working Title. This is a public journal, but old posts (and the rare new post) are friends-only.

Information about me can be found on my user page. New LiveJournal friends are welcome: feel free to friend me, but please do leave a note (here or otherwise) and introduce yourself if you would like to be friended in return.
As I post more of these boys, it's getting harder for new readers to catch up on what's come before. So for everyone's ease, I finally offer:

Ghost and Aaron: A Sims 3 Story
Introduction and Master List

Aaron (with freckles and dyed black hair) is brash and rude, but behind his bravado is certain vulnerability. Ghost (with white hair and pale eyes) is inward-turned, expressing himself through the arts—but his passivity hides depth. They are cousins who, for most of their lives, were only casual acquaintances. Two years ago, Aaron moved in with Ghost and his mother, and the boys quickly became close friends. But one day, after they had moved into a filthy suburban home in Sunset Valley, Aaron kissed Ghost—changing their relationship forever, and beginning their chronicled story.

From their first spontaneous kiss onward, Ghost and Aaron's story has been almost entirely autonomous. I set up premises, and they provide plot—and the boys have a strange magic that makes it all possible. I post lightly annotated, image-heavy chronicles of their daily lives, supplemented with text-only, non-chronological storybits that fill in gaps in their daily developments and backstory. Storybits in particular may contain explicit sexual content, so consider yourself warned.

The list below contains every post where Aaron and Ghost appear, from cameos to major developments. The numbering system is completely meaningless (but keeps things in order); storybits are often non-chronological and tangentially related, but add significant depth. I have no posting schedule—updates come when they come. Comments and discussion are always welcome. Enjoy!

Master List — The time when...
001 They first appear.
002 Aaron kisses Ghost.
003 Aaron sets fire to the TV.
004 Their romantic relationship gets going.
005 Ghost quits his job.
006 They finally have sex.
          Bonus House tour.
007 They cameo during their honeymoon period.
008 The repoman comes.
          Bonus Family photos and Storybit 01: Aaron on the doorstep.
009 Ghost says "I love you."
           Bonus Storybit 02: Ghost dreams of death.
010 Ghost's dreams get worse.
          Bonus Storybit 03: Aaron says "I love you."
011 Storybit 04: The second round, while Ghost should be sleeping.
012 They have a surprising amount of sex.
          Bonus Storybit 05: Aaron picks Ghost up from work.
013 Ghost started to come to terms with Aaron's thievery.
          Bonus Storybit 06: Aaron questions Ghost's sexual history.
014 They cameo at the Silverman-Moore wedding.
015 Storybit 07: Aaron bottoms for the first time.
016 They visit Mouse.
          Bonus Storybit 08: The night with Nathan.
017 Everything's going well, so Aaron's parents show up.
          Bonus Storybit 09: The rings.
018 Things do not happen in France.
019 Aaron's parents visit.
          Bonus Storybit 10: What does not happen after Aaron's parents leave.
020 Previous update outtakes.
021 They spend a couple irresponsible days.

You can also browse my tags for Sims 3 and Sims 3: Ghost and Aaron for some supplemental discussion and photo logs of my other Sims. All my Sims photos are gathered in galleries on my Flickr.
I should have been born a cat
Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab Website.

bpal_feedback avaliable here.

BPAL I have up for swap (locked).

My BPAL wishlist

I'm always willing to try new BPAL scents or to stock up on my favorites, but there are some scents that I desire more than others. I generally collect imps/decants because I go through oils slowly. You can fund my BPAL obsession through Paypal (swiftskyes AT hotmail DOT com) or ship them to me directly (can't see my contact info? want to? just ask).

I've included information about my favorite scents and notes (to give you an idea of what I like) and my wishlist for both limited edition and general catalog imps. Asterisks denote my highest priorities.

My favorite scents, notes, and tastesCollapse )

Limited Edition/Retired/Unimpable/etc WishlistCollapse )

General Catalog WishlistCollapse )

Non-BPAL & Miscellaneous WishlistCollapse )
I should have been born a cat
Deciding where to post what is difficult; here's some media musings that originally went up on my tumblr, chronicled for tags/posterity.

Criminal Minds and police procedurals

I watch a lot of crime dramas/crime fiction/mystery fiction/police procedurals, and with the genre comes mixed expectation/fear of predictability and a skewed sense of scale, two things that often have a single cause: episodic formatting. It's the glorious hallmark of the genre, making it accessible and (as the genre has matured and grown increasingly dark) palatable. But, oh, is it broken.

Read more.Collapse )

Twilight: the film

Netflix got Twilight. I am, thus, finally watching Twilight.

And I finally get it.

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Reading children's literature aloud

Devon and I sometimes read books together, by which I mean: sometimes he reads books aloud to me. After much experimentation, I can report that the very best books for this are children's books. I suppose that's logical! They halfways written to be read aloud, with conveniently sized chapters, active pacing, and maybe most of all they're just—fun. All of those classic children's stories you're familiar with, culturally, but perhaps have never read?

Spoiler: they're fantastic.

Read more.Collapse )

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I should have been born a cat
There's a negative review of A Tree of Bones which I quite like. It critiques the way Chess and his relationship with his mother change at the end of the series. Expect spoilers.

I don't think that the series takes an interesting, bad character and turns him into a boring, good one, but there is a certain charm to A Book of Tongues, a wanton grotesquerie, amoral and rude and indulgent, which is quite fun—but it, and Chess, stick in the mind because it's not simplistic, evil for the sake of evil or plot progression; Chess is emotionally motivated and complex. As the series progresses, he can't but mature. It makes the character more tempered, and the books as well—and while that's not the same thing as restrained, it is a bit less fun. But I appreciate it in the same way do any narrative that builds a complex antagonist.

I also appreciate the relationship between Chess and Ooona in A Tree of Bones. I believe it's important to portray abusive relationships as complex, and that abuse victims are entitled to complex feelings about their abusers, and that they have the right to feel forgiveness, or not feel forgiveness, or to feel both simultaneously. I also had a worried extra-narrative whisper in the back of my head: Chess isn't a real person, entitled to any feelings at all; is his forgiveness problematic on a larger scale, a faulty example of how to be a good abuse victim and a false example of the power of healing love?

I admire this review for calling that out; ultimately, Chess's forgiveness works for me because I don't see it as simplistically as that reviewer did, and I find his mixed reaction resonant. When I reread A Book of Tongues I talked about my formative mantra that loves is not enough; acknowledging that love still exists has been equally formative for me in these last few years. I am able to carry that contradiction within me: partial forgiveness, and shared love despite hurt. To see the same reflected in Chess validating and authentic.

It certainly continues to amaze me that I found this series so affecting.

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I should have been born a cat
Title: I Capture the Castle
Author: Dodie Smith
Published: New York: St. Martin's Press, 2013 (1948)
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 343
Total Page Count: 156,243
Text Number: 456
Read Because: personal enjoyment/mentioned in Jo Walton's Among Others, ebook borrowed from Multnomah County Library
Review: 17-year-old Cassandra begins her journals with her family living in the squalor of a dilapidated castle--just before they meet their new American neighbors, who will change their lives. I dislike first person narratives, but this one is phenomenal. It's justified and convincing, and there would be no better vehicle for this coming of age. Cassandra is present, lively, engaged, "consciously naïve" (indeed!), evocative, and utterly charming. Her humor balances out the drearier aspects of the romantic entanglements, and the end is perfect: heartfelt, unidealized, and mature. If I'm honest, the romance that becomes the bulk of the (surprisingly and intentionally Austenian) plot didn't always work for me--but I hardly care, both because the conclusion justifies it and because I rarely see books so consistently good as this one, so endearing and well-executed, such a pleasure to read, while never skimping on substance. I adored it, and recommend it with enthusiasm.

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Title: A Tree of Bones (Hexslinger Book 3)
Author: Gemma Files
Published: Toronto: ChiZine Publications, 2012
Rating: 5 of 5
Page Count: 447
Total Page Count: 155,900
Text Number: 455
Read Because: continuing the series, borrowed from [personal profile] century_eyes
Review: A Rope of Thorns was a middle book, cluttered and unbalanced. But the payout is worth it; A Tree of Bones is fantastic. It takes the established, diverse world to satisfying conclusion, and the highlight is the characters. If A Book of Tongues is about the fact that someone hurt whom they claim to love, A Tree of Bones is about the beloved's equally complex relationship with their betrayer. Chess's development remains a touch heavy-handed, but that Files gives him and the vast majority of the cast such depth and sympathy without erasing their sins is remarkable; there's no single character I didn't learn to love (even Songbird, even Oona). This saga was great fun, unique in premise and voice, satisfying in scale and execution; but I didn't expect it to be resonant, and that's the quality I admire most in the end.

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I should have been born a cat
The very great catch-up post.

March, 7: Saw the Twilight Sad in concert
at the Doug Fir. Most of the bands I see with Dee are ones I don't much listen to or only listen to live; I have never yet been disappointed by a performance. This is in part because Dee has great taste, and in part because live music is its own energy and sound—and this show was a great example. The energy flow between musicians and audience was joyful and near palpable; the band was so obviously happy to be there, with us, and I felt somewhat responsible for that—a phenomenal experience.

March 8: Made trip to Corvallis
A brief one, as it was right before finals week for Devon. The very first thing that happened as I walked in the door: Devon's mom asked, "oh, how is Mamakitty doing?" and Devon went "WELP it seems I forgot to tell you something." A weird trip, not entirely in a bad way; I missed seeing my sister but did see my parents.

Family Stuff under the cut.Collapse )

March 13: Traveled back to Portland, got sick
Started with a tolerable cough; remained a tolerable cough until directly after:

March 21: Saw The Decemberists in concert
I can't remember how many times I've seen them, now. Many! At least four, if you count Meloy's solo show. I occasionally listen to them, but not often; Meloy's twang sounds raw on record. But I adore them live, and this concert was no exception. It was in the Keller Auditorium, which is quite stately, but they still got everyone on their feet. Their concerts are performance art, despite the minimal performance (whale excepted): presence, energy, vivid dark humor, self-awareness, an appetite for the absurd, a proactive engagement with content and audience.

Then was really sick
Polite of it to wait until I had free time to be miserable. Complaining about a cold feels trite, because no one enjoys them. But post-Mama, still unsure how I've recovered; post-travel, which is exhausting even if positive; post-two big, beautiful, but energetic concerts: I'm already bereft of energy and cluttered with unexamined feelings, and being ill and nigh unable to sleep didn't help.

My saving grace is that I've been consuming a lot of engaging, enjoyable media—and while I don't have the energy to spend time in my own life, escaping into another is welcome. The problem is that I should be reviewing, or at least making note of, all I've consumed, but I feel disorganized and feeble, and can't set my thoughts to order. So, I thought, writing some of that down may help, and I wrote.

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Books Once More
Title: A Rope of Thorns (Hexslinger Book 2)
Author: Gemma Files
Published: Toronto: ChiZine Publications, 2001
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 328
Total Page Count: 155,453
Text Number: 454
Read Because: continuing the series, borrowed from [personal profile] century_eyes
Review: As Rook builds Hex City, the first established gathering of magicians, newly-awakened Chess sets out for revenge—but he doesn't journey alone. A Rope of Thorns is a right mess, but that's not a bad thing. It (re)introduces character and settings, cluttering up the stage; it has numerous metamorphoses and developments; the end stacks on itself in layers of aborted climaxes, messy and labyrinthine. But while it could use some paring down (the ending, in particular), I would expect nothing less. I'm reminded of Monette's Doctrine of Labyrinths: the plot occasionally gets in its own way, but its chaos and scale fit the context; meanwhile, the story's core is its cast and their messy interpersonal dramas and character growth. It's writing that sits in the gut and heart more than the head. Chess's developments aren't subtle but they are compelling, and the new characters are great. The first volume was more successful, but I remain pleased with this series and look forward to seeing it through to the end.

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Title: The Labyrinth (published in Myths of Origin)
Author: Catherynne M. Valente
Published: Stirling: Wyrm Publishing, 2011 (2004)
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 147
Total Page Count: 155,215
Text Number: 453
Read Because: fan of the author, from my personal library
Review: A timeless, endless journey through a labyrinth metamorphosizes into a quest to find its center. This is classic early Valente, prose poetry, mythpunk, an intentionally anachronistic mishmash of imagery swathing a powerful metaphor. I found it more successful than Yume no Hon—partially because I prefer its metaphor, but also because the labyrinth as metaphor works so well: it justifies Valente's unspooling, claustrophobic prose; the cyclical plot may be frustrating, but it has a sense of inevitability and necessity. Perhaps The Labyrinth could benefit from paring down, and there are better Valente novels (objectively, and as starting places) than this first work. But I adored it just as it is: unsubtle and unrestrained, ornate, messy, magical, inspired, driven, powerfully imagined.

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I should have been born a cat
I have this anti-anxiety "visualization" that I use to compartmentalize my obsessive thinking. Visualization is an approximation because I don't have visual images, so instead I focus on detailed imaginings of physical actions.

I imagine the negative thought as a physical object directly in front of me, and then imagine confining that object—sometimes I kneed it into a small ball, sometimes I put it in a box with a lid, sometimes I tie it up with string. Then I take the small, contained object and I put it way, way behind/beside me, somewhere over my right shoulder, too far back to see in my peripheral vision. If the thought reoccurs—which happens—I revisit the new location to remind myself that thought has been set aside.

I have many (albeit justified) hangups about the idea of being rid of my obsessive thinking—that it is pervasive and unremitting is core to my anxiety, and I won't let that be denied. This doesn't deny it: it recognizes it, and then sets it aside. It's one of the only ways I find relief.

I've been all over the place since Mama died, predictably. I miss her frequently, in a way I don't often experience loss, simply because she was so present and now she's not: not when I feed cats, not when I count heads dozing on beds, not there to visit me when I wake up in the morning. And I keep catching myself wanting to take those thoughts, bundle them up, and set them aside.

I have no idea if I should. Almost everything I ever feel is awful—illogical, constant, pointless awful, like being trapped forever in that 3am feeling of failing to sleep while successfully reliving that humiliating thing you did in tenth grade that everyone has forgotten but you. Those aren't thought process I've ever been able to work through and put to rest, so I know that putting them aside is healthy—it's sure healthier than endlessly experiencing them. I don't know what healthy mental processes feel like. I don't know what healthy grief feels like. Would compartmentalizing these feelings prevent me from working through them? I don't want to treat Mama's memory like the other stupid stuff I obsess about; I want to keep her alive in me and to remember, and fondly, all the things that I miss right now. But my brain is fragile—how much backlash do I risk if I let myself spiral into grief?

I end up vaguely paralyzed, holding that thought, that constant missing, as a solid object in front of me, unsure where to put it, where it should go. I miss her.

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A Book of Tongues is basically an ode to the fact that loving someone is no guarantee that you will do right by them.

Dee bought the rest of the Hexslinger novels (which somehow I'd forgotten would even exist, despite following their writing process?? this is why you can't trust me with series: I so begrudge the extended demand of my time/resources/investment that I will actually wish away the knowledge of sequels), so I'm rereading from the start.

I collect interpersonal relationships—they're my main draw to all media, and the relationships here hit my buttons: they're messy, crazy intimate, unconventional, unforgiving; it reads like what it is, original fic that functions as fanfic, settled firm at character- and id-level, for all that the Aztec-apocalypse plot may blindside you. My love of interpersonal relationships runs an uneven line between the gratifying and the meaningful—I'm personally invested in the concept of unusual (by which I mean, apparently bizarre or unhealthy) intimacy in particular, but most fictional interpersonal relationships fascinate me rather than speak to me.

This particular one, however, does.

I have a few formative mantras, like my compulsive honesty; I know exactly where they come from, and at this point perhaps they shouldn't define me so completely, but I can't shake them because—well, I suppose because they're necessary parts of how I understand myself and explain my history. "Love is not enough" is one of those mantras. Someone can love you, or claim to love you; they can intend to do what's best for you, or claim to; they can still cause you inadvertent and even willful harm.

Unlike most weird intimacies, that particular dynamic isn't something I fetishize—although it works a lovely tandem, here, with everything which is fetishistic, so that the tension between want/don't want is never allowed to fade. But, unexpectedly, I value it. This is the sort of book I'd expect to have feels about, sure, but not more. Wild West with horror and magic and apocalypses and slashfic! it's shouldn't be heartfelt meaningful to me—and yet. It's such an important mantra. It explains huge swaths of my adolescence. There's a joyless, fierce vindication in seeing it in a book.

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I should have been born a cat
Title: Seraphina (Seraphina Book 1)
Author: Rachel Hartman
Published: New York: Random House, 2012
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 482
Total Page Count: 154,968
Text Number: 452
Read Because: personal enjoyment, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: For forty years, humans and dragons have held an unsteady truce—and Seraphina is the thing that incurs hate from both sides: a half-blood. On one hand, this book is a pleasant surprise. It succumbs to a few YA pitfalls, chief among them the pacing and obligatory romance, but it's so alive. The setting is vivid, the protagonist self-aware; the dragons, with their meaningful shape-shifting, are thoughtful and unique; the interpersonal aspects are heartfelt. On the other, this is a fantasy substitute for a conversation about racism, with all attendant problems: it's gross, and it's flawed. Although effective in the narrative—Seraphina's internalized self-hatred especially—the fact that it's not as bad as it could be hardly justifies it.

Blacklisting fantasy for allegorical racism would leave precious little fantasy to read, and I enjoyed Seraphina. It's engaging, pleasantly unconventional, and good—but not untainted.

(This first book leaves room for sequels but stands alone.)

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I stumbled into a Maledicte reread (I swear, I just wanted to check Mal's eye color—which is black, by the way), and had a moment, as one does, where I held the book to me and said, "This is my favorite book."

And upon consideration: it is.

I don't mean that it's the best book, insofar as there is such a thing (the head-hopping was particularly obvious in this reread); nor is it even the book I'd recommend to the most readers. But I’ve read it an easy seven times since it was published in 2007, at least enough for once yearly and maybe more than that. It’s one of the few books which makes me fannish, or introduced me to one of my favorite characters.

Subgenres are just about my favorite thing, precisely because I love tropes so much—and subgenres are genres turned specific, their tropes distinctive near to the point of exaggeration. Maledicte slides into the deepest niche of fantasy of manners—voiding the genre's tendency to limit fantasy to a fictional setting, its worldbuilding incorporates dark, chthonic magics; its intrigues aren't complex or delicate: they're heartless, bloody, unrelenting, and the complexity instead sits at the interpersonal level; the setting and style has a gleeful abandon, a near exaggeration, from the crumbling divine-smote Relicts to the insubstantial, bickering, reactionary veneer of courtly politics. Taking its cue from Swordspoint, it's queer as fuck: one of the most convincing and complex examinations of gender performance and identity I’ve seen. Think Monette's Doctrine of Labyrinths gone slantwise, more compact, more willing in its cruelty, more idealized (when it wants to be) in its darkness, its beautiful and flawed violence. It has the sort of vivid strokes I expect from visual media, but the complexity and amorality I treasure and which text makes room for. And Maledicte, its heart, my heart, temperamental and seductive, frequently unforgivable but capable of such love.

I've loved this book since the first time I read it:

The opening of Maledicte is the only part of the novel which doesn't quite work for me, and there was no immediate click between me and the book. But as Maledicte stands in the study that first night, rude and beautiful and young, he burns like a light out of the shadows that swathe carpets and bookshelves and I said: Yes.

But I knew that; what amazes me is that I love it the most. I read a lot! I reread almost as often. I have a pile of favorites and a number of books slated for bi-yearly rereads. But this one is, likely, my favorite—favorite not because it meets some untenable standard of "best" or even because it speaks to some episode in my life or of my character, but simply because I love it, vivid dark violent, atmospheric to an extreme, rolling in its tropes and stylizations until it grows filthy with them, as decorative and sharp-edged as Mal with his sword.

That was neat to discover.

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Books Once More
Title: The Game of Kings (The Lymond Chronicles Book 1)
Author: Dorothy Dunnett
Published: New York: Random House, 2010 (1961)
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 543
Total Page Count: 154,486
Text Number: 451
Read Because: personal enjoyment, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: 1547, Scotland: in the midst of an English invasion, prodigal son Lymond returns home. The Game of Kings is obliquely intelligent, self-satisfied, bombastic, as indulgent as fanfiction, and utterly delightful. I much preferred the first two thirds, when everyone is heartless; the revisions to characters/events that happen in the close is clever and important, but isn't to my taste—as a trope or in how it changes what's come before. But I'll be honest: I enjoyed this book wholeheartedly. The idea of five sequels exhausts me; this wants to be read with a guide in hand, to pick apart allusions and understand the historical setting. But it wouldn't be half as fun if it weren't as smugly brilliant, and frequently inscrutable, as its hero. Dunnett finds practiced balance between intellect and id, and the result is supremely satisfying. I'm only sorry I haven't read this until now.

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21st-Feb-2015 02:02 pm - Visiting the humane society after
Dee and I have a tradition when a pet dies—we go to the humane society. We do it because we have the bodies cremated there, and/or because we have their materials to donate, which helps clear out bad memories and supports a good cause, but we stay to look at the animals.

I don't want to hear other people's pet stories when I've just lost my own, but I want to know that there are pets out there, cared for, loved, and soon to find the perfect home. Oregon Humane Society's save rate is 98% (and both Odi and Loki came from OHS), so it has a sense of willful goodness.

This time, we met Bartholomeow Winchester, a big old mancat—literally: 10 pounds, 13 years, a longhaired tuxedo with the yellow chin and no-fucks-given attitude of old age who was aggressively affectionate. Someone adopted him that day.

We saw Ash, who was already on hold: an 8 month medium-hair blue of this most distinctive color: not a velvety frosted blue, but a silky coat like August's in a remarkable shade of deep, saturated gray. I've made it my life's goal to only have black cats, but I think I've decided that certain varieties of black and white count—like Gilly's white flecks, like handsome tuxedo mancats, and like breathtaking deep blues. I discovered that Ash looks precisely like (although is probably not) a Nebelung—a cat breed "best defined as semi-long haired Russian Blue." I want one keenly.

The last weeks have been devastating. Mama was a remarkable cat, and Dee and I very much shared her—all we've ever wanted for her was the absolute best that we could give, and coming to terms with what that meant has been heartbreaking. But there's no regret. No regret in knowing her, or caring for her; browsing futurepets is a reminder of that: that all they really are is wonderful.

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21st-Feb-2015 01:52 pm - We euthanized Mamakitty two days ago.
I should have been born a cat
Warning for discussion of pet illness/pet death.

We euthanized Mamakitty two days ago.

Her initial improvement when we started her on a feeding tube was short-lived—she had issues keeping food down, digesting well, and regaining loss weight. More than that, she was miserable—wheezy and lethargic, uncomfortable, and distinctly exhausted by everything happening to her. Her Prednisone dose was meant for immediate relief but was having no effect, and was therefore unlikely to have an effect in the future.

The only reason to continue life-sustaining treatment was if she wanted her life sustained, or if her quality of life would improve in the near future. Neither was true.

We brought Mama inside two years ago, in January; the entire time we knew her, from befriending the timid local stray to petting her tummy while she snoozed on our beds, all we did was make Mama’s life better. She was a miracle for us, and us for her, and we have no regrets. Euthanizing her was one last thing we could do to make things better, and it was an easy decision.

(August has been glued to me since then, never more than an arms-length away, which has made all of this much easier.)

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I should have been born a cat
Warning for discussion of pet illness/death.

Mamakitty's two week bloodwork didn't show all the results we were looking for, so she went in for an ultrasound today. Based on the state of her lymph nodes, she most probably has cancer and it's progressed beyond the point where it could be treated. Ascertaining more information about the disease would be invasive and is incredibly unlikely to help us save her life. The vet says that even if we sunk all the energy and money in the world into her treatment, there's probably nothing we could do. In a way, that's liberating--we don't have to choose between treatments or measure the value of her life.

She's on Prednisone to treat the cancer symptoms, and her feeding tube continues as normal. We'll deal with what can be dealt with, getting food and meds in her, and we'll make her remaining time as comfortable as possible. No matter how long that is, we've already given two miracle years, inside and loved and happy.

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13th-Feb-2015 12:22 am - Mamakitty update: doing well!
I should have been born a cat
Mamakitty is doing well!

The scariest part was bringing her home—that's when we saw the symptoms the vets were expecting: weight loss, lethargy. But Dee and I adjusted well to the feeding regimen, and Mamakitty rallied quickly. But the 9th (only 5 days-ish after surgery) she was up and about again, significantly more active and affectionate, and was even eating a few dry kibbles. Tuesday the 10th she had her one week checkup: the incision site is clean, the tube remains perfectly placed; her jaundice is significantly improved; they're still worried about her weight, and increased her daily food.

This is a longterm effort: Mama has to have the tube in until she's been eating normally for a minimum of two weeks, because the tube longevity is fantastic and insertion is the big stressor/health risk. She doesn't get bloodwork redone for another week—it's too early to get a reliable read on the effect of treatment.

But, in brief, Mama is alive now and she probably wouldn't be otherwise, and everyone (cat and people) are coping well with her treatment.

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