Piece O’ NYC: Our City Cats

This post is dedicated to the animals I love the most: cats!

When Jeff and I first moved in together, back when we were wee ones in Baltimore, I immediately told him we were getting a cat. Wisely, he didn’t fight me on this. I’m a bit of a cat lady. Most of my friends — ok, ALL of my friends — know that if they spot something cat related to show it to me or get it for me. I’m just one of those crazies.

So, throughout our marriage, Jeff and I have had cats. Sugar, our first cat, sadly passed while she was still a kitten. She was very sweet and loved us both.

Then came Carlton. His full name is Carlton Butterworth Livingston Goldsmith, I. (At the pound his name was “Cookie”…short for Cookie Monster we think…). He was hovering on 17 pounds when we got him, but is now a nice and husky 13 pounds. He’s a gentleman and a scholar, and as his time with us progressed, it became clear that he and Jeff would become the closest of buddies. So that made me feel ‘cat-less.’
Carlton with his buddy, Jeffrey. Probably talking about girls and football...

Carlton with his buddy, Jeffrey. Probably talking about girls and football…

FullSizeRender copy 2Since I’ve never felt right without cat love, I had to get my own. Back to the pound we went, and home we came with Millie, (Millicent Butterworth Goldsmith — if you think these names are funny, wait until you hear what we have in store for our kids one day ;p). Millie is the perfect cat. She’s super sweet and loving, you can leave tons of food out for her and she doesn’t over consume (Carl is a glutton), and she plays with all of her cat toys equally (Carl only likes his princess pillows or squeaky mice). She also plays fetch and does this!

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She’s pretty protective of this quilt… I wouldn’t try to use it while she’s ‘guarding’ it.

FullSizeRenderLiving in tight quarters with two cats does have several challenges, though. There are hair ball nuggets everywhere and no matter what you do, there’s never enough floor space for all of Millie’s toys or for Carl to lay out on. We have random corners where Carl has to have his cat bed — he’s big enough that instead of cat beds, we get him small dog beds. Plus, our litterbox is an eye sore. Jeff and I can totally see why many people here have dogs. (Jeff has never had a dog or puppy, but one day I totally plan on getting him one. One day when we have that house we’ve always dreamed of…).

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NYC is interesting for cats. Millie loves our high rise view and I know Carlton’s happy just as long as you feed him on time. Some people in this city walk their cats in strollers, and we’ve seen cats on leashes in the park. I really think Carlton could be down with this, but Millie is too much like a dog. She’d want to explore.
When Jeff and I talk about our marriage, we immediately think of the cats we’ve had during that time in our lives. For example, it was Sugar who comforted me as I scrolled through bridal magazines looking for DIY wedding ideas, but it was Carlton who moved with us to a new apartment in Baltimore as a married couple. Aren’t pets just the greatest?!

That’s my (youngest) boy!

Jeff is a biostatistician on the faculty at Columbia. I try to understand what he does, and sometimes I sort of get it, but I can’t exactly explain it.

He goes to conferences to present papers often. I’ve never seen him speak until now. He gave a talk in Banff at the Frontiers in Functional Data Analysis Conference a few days ago and it was recorded. He said I could share the link with you!

Click here to watch Jeff’s talk. I find it interesting that it is the norm for a speaker to speak fast at these things—they have a time limit and a lot to fit in. I’m proud of the fact that Jeff is clear, even when he’s talking fast. I don’t think I could do it.

Here Jeff is, younger. It’s fun to show him in front of a quilt-in-progress on my design wall. I’m lucky that my boys (and my DIL) all love my quilts. And it’s interesting to me that they like different quilts so everyone get to be happy.

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FYI: That quilt went to American Patchwork & Quilting. They patterned it, and they own the quilt.

And now there are two…

Our eldest cat, Emma, went to heaven this morning. At least, I expect that she did. She was, after all, a meek and mild cat, hardly ever mean.

Emma is in the middle between Belle (front) and Dave (back).

Emma is in the middle between Belle (front) and Dave (back).

I think I’ve written before that Belle (in front) showed up starving and sweet-tempered. As she got stronger, she changed and ended up chasing the other cats out of the house.

Emma decided to live the back yard. Truthfully, the space has a pool with growies around it, rather than being a ‘yard’, but Emma had a very nice set-up in the shed. She loved lying in the pool chairs, moving with the sun. I think she enjoyed her 1 1/2 years of being the primary owner of the space.

About 2 weeks ago I noticed that she was very thin. We took her to the vet who ran tests but at the $400 mark the best he could say was she probably had cancer and it was a toss-up as to what he could do from there. I didn’t think that Emma was up for extensive cancer treatments so we took her home with extra-special food and did what we could to make her happy. Since Emma ‘happy’ looks like Emma napping, it was not hard to do. She was still a little perky then, looking happy to be alive.

I got home Sunday from California and Emma had lost more weight, she had not been eating at all, and she no longer looked perky. So, this morning, Steve and I took her in to have her… put to sleep? euthanized? killed? The words are tricky.

I’m not one for dressing up words for death. We all die, and that’s the word I usually use. It is to be hoped that we end up in a happy place, but that happens after we do the dying part. However, with that thought in mind, the phrase ‘passed on’ makes more sense. I’ve never particularly liked it, but that sums up what happened with Emma today. She passed on from this existence to the next.

We got a little teary-eyed but Dr. Locke assured us that we did the right thing. A mass had grown on her back in the space of a week and he said that whatever she had, he would not have been able to stop it. She never seemed to be in pain and the process went very smoothly. She seemed happy—or at least not unhappy. There are so many worse ways to go.

Emma is now planted in the front yard near Spike and Walter. I miss seeing her at the back door but she will live on in our memories.

Now it’s Dave’s who has a problem. It’s not a lethal problem, but he’s losing the hair on his face. Dr. Locke thinks it’s an allergic dermatitis. If Dave could see himself, he’d be very unhappy—but he can’t see himself! There are times when it’s nice to be blissfully unaware of circumstances you cannot change, don’t you think?

About those 10,000 steps…

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Did you see the article in the New York Magazine this weekend entitled How Many Steps A Day Should You Walk?

The article in question says pretty much what I always thought: that 10,000 step goal is both arbitrary and not always the most important thing. And guess who they quote saying that very thing? Our youngest son, Jeff, that’s who! You should absolutely read this article all the way down to the 9th paragraph!

I wear a fitbit, and have worn it for over a year now. However, I don’t pay any attention to the number of steps I walk—I’m all about the miles. My goal is 4 miles a day and I often hit it. When I don’t, I that’s OK, but I find it’s nice to have a goal. That said, I know that my 4 miles is an arbitrary number that I chose because it’s attainable, but not easily attainable. I have to exert myself to hit my goal, but not that much :-).

If you don’t have a fitness routine, and if it just seems too hard, you might want to consider something like a fitbit. When you keep tabs on your activity, you see how much you move doing the things you always do, which is nice. And it turns reaching a daily goal almost into a game. That’s what I’ll tell myself tomorrow when I take my morning walk in the airport terminal.

 

On being wet, and cold…

On our last full day in Nova Scotia, we decided to walk the Cape Split trail, overlooking the Bay of Fundy. On the way there, I spotted another interesting sign:

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I think the 3rd row, 2nd from left means ‘fruit and veggies for picking’ because the ladies in my classes said so. The last row, 1st image may be ‘farmer’s market’. Or not. The thing that I notice about Canadian signs is that they are more varied than the ones I see in the US, and they are more complex. In most cases they are easy to intuit, but not always. It must be a cultural thing. I’ll bet they make sense to Canadians.

I admit, I knew nothing about the Bay of Fundy before this morning. It is known for having the highest tidal range in the world. We drove toward Cape Split when the tide was low. We stopped to take some pictures on the way. Here’s an overlook into the valley…

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We stopped to take a photo of a beach with the tide out, and again on the way back when the tide was in. There was 3-4 hours between the shots with the water out and the water in.

I know that the tide goes in and out everywhere. It is high, and then low. But apparently in the Bay of Fundy the tide goes out really fast and comes in really fast. We were advised not to walk out on what looks like a safe place because you can get washed away. It happens.

I took a few photos as we began the hike, before the rain started. A lot of the trail looked like this.

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The trail was steep-ish in some places. There were rocks and tree roots, but this was not a particularly hard hike. That said, I was sorry I didn’t take my knee braces for the downhill parts. Up may make your lungs hurt, but downhill is really hard on your knees.

We saw ‘Christmas trees’ on this hike. In fact, we’ve seen them all over Nova Scotia. I will always think of this place when I smell, and stroke, a Christmas tree pine.

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And there was art on the trail! There was a sign that identified this as part of the Fey Forest by Christine Waugh, an exhibit from Uncommon Common Art.

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There were more parts to the exhibit but it was too darned wet to pull out either a camera or an iPhone to take a picture. And, honestly, it was too wet and cold for me to stop to admire the art. But I tried.

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The Cape Split trail is 18 kilometers long, about 8 miles. It is listed as a 4-5 hour hike. We did it in 3 hours, mostly because I walk fast. Also, it was raining and cold. Usually I can moderate my speed-walking with stopping to take photos and admire the scenery. Not so much today.

When we got back to the car, and rest room, my hands were so cold that my thumbs didn’t work. I found it nearly impossible to deal with the snaps and zipper on my pants. That was a first!

Instead of doing more with the day, we went directly to our hotel near the airport. It will be a very early morning to catch our first flight home but we are warm and dry and our clothes and shoes are mostly dry! Dinner was nice. We have wine and an internet connection. And we are both tired enough to sleep well tonight.

Now, you’re read this far, I should share the rest. I wear my sister, Christy’s, watch when I wear a watch. I had it on for this trip. Christy died more than 3 years ago and you can go back in my blog to read about the end of her life if you want to. Suffice it to say, I feel her presence when I wear her watch. I don’t dwell, but it’s a nice nudge.

As we walked today and the rain got worse, I realized that the watch might not like the water, so I took it off and put it in a dry pocket of my pants. When we got to the point at Cape Split and headed back I realized that my pocket was not dry enough and I should move the watch to Steve’s backpack. And then it was: ‘oh shit, where’s the watch?!!!’

I checked my pockets. Steve checked my pockets. No watch. I was more than bummed. On the 4 mile walk back we kept our eyes on the ground. I tried to remember where I was when I took it off and moved it to my pocket. We asked those we passed if they had seen it and they had not. I realized that there had been a lot of rain. The trail had lots more puddles on the outbound walk. The watch was surely under water.

On the walk back to the car, I let my sister’s watch go. I realized that I felt her in that watch and maybe leaving it on this trail was not such a bad thing. I think it’s a place she would like. Honestly, it kind of suits her. A little wild, tempestuous, different.

When we got to the car, I didn’t feel as bad about loosing Christy’s watch as I thought I would. And then, after my fingers thawed out, I found it hiding in my pocket, next to my fitbit. That felt good.

Objects with attachments are interesting, aren’t they? There are things, like Christy’s watch, that mean more than they are worth. But things are ephemeral. I’m happy to realize that I love my sister’s watch, I’m happy to still have it, but I could also be happy without it.

Things are things, people are what count. With or without the watch, my sister won’t be leaving my memory.

Isn’t he handsome!

Jeff lives in NYC and I don’t get to see him often, so it was a treat to see our son looking so very spiffy in these photos. You can see more photos from the event here.

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Jeff is a member of the Biostatics faculty at the Mailman School of Public Health at Columbia where they are celebrating the Department’s 75th anniversary. That’s all I know about the event, other than the fact that my son surely did look nice at the podium.

I suspect it as true for you as it is for me: it just makes me grin when I compare memories of my kids when they to little to the adults they have grown to be.