A friend called me this morning with a dilemma. She has a new kitten, about 6 months old, who has tested positive for FIV (Feline Immunodeficiency Virus). She was seeking my advice and some education on what to do for the cat and had many questions regarding his expected lifespan and quality of life. We talked for quite awhile and it has inspired my blog for the day (Thanks Terri ;-)
First of all, I want you all to know that there are only 3 things you can catch from your cat. First is rabies. Because of vaccination protocols, the last time a human being in the United States contracted rabies from a cat was in 1970...40 years ago. So vaccinate your cats and forget about ever getting rabies. You are way more likely to contract it from a bat, a raccoon or a fox than a cat.
Secondly, is toxoplasmosis. Toxo is the reason that pregnant women should not clean litter boxes and it is specific only to cats. No other animal on the planet can foster toxoplasmosis. Toxo is a parasitic infection that most cats carry but rarely show symptoms. Other immuno-suppressive conditions may bring out the Toxoplasmosis, but cats otherwise carry it and we never know it. It is not transmissible through touching, licking, biting or scratching so owning a cat does not mean you are exposed to Toxoplasmosis. In fact, you are more likely to contract Toxo by eating undercooked meat, drinking unpasteurized milk or eating unwashed vegetables than you are from owning a cat. If you are pregnant or otherwise immuno-compromised (ex. have AIDS or are undergoing chemotherapy), have someone else clean your cat's litter box. Problem solved.
The third thing you can get from your cat is ringworm. Ringworm is NOT A WORM! It is a fungus, very much like athlete's foot. In fact, it is treated with the same cream (Lotrimin and the like). If you get it (and again you are more likely if you are immuno-suppressed) it will itch and drive you nuts, but it is benign and will go away. Think of it like a big mosquito bite. If your cat has ringworm, wash your hands thoroughly after handing him/her. Wash bedding thoroughly and often and you should be fine. If you get ringworm from your cat, don't panic. Just deal with it and get through it.
Now, let's talk about The Big Three: Feline Leukemia (FeLV), Feline Immunodeficiency Virus (FIV) and Feline Infectious Peritonitis (FIP). Let me start by talking about animal shelters and rescues and the concept of "no-kill." The general public thinks that "no-kill" actually means that these facilities do not euthanize animals. WRONG!!! All it means it that the facility does not euthanize FOR SPACE. In other words, they cannot euthanize because they have too many animals. However, they CAN euthanize for 1) behavioral issues and 2) medical issues and still call themselves "no-kill." This concept is exactly the reason that I no longer sit on the board of directors for the humane society. I should have been clued in when, in my first board meeting, the shelter director asked how I felt about euthanasia. I should have walked out the door right then and there. But, we live and we learn. Anyway, "behavioral issues" are your bite cases and feral cats. Feral cats are deemed "unadoptable" and a "danger to the staff" and are euthanized. Yes, you heard me right. They take a WILD animal, stick it in a cage in an unfamiliar environment, trapped in a place it has never been in before and then, after a 7 day waiting period, they kill it because it is "scary" and "dangerous." Worse, they give it a name like "Shredder" or "Evil" and laugh about it. Even if the cat was adoptable, I don't know many people that would adopt a cat named "Evil."
Medical issues is a broad category and they want it to be. It allows euthanasia without violation of the "no-kill" image. Think about it...they can't euthanize for space so they HAVE to find a reason or they will be grossly overpopulated. The concept of "no-kill" is nothing more than a political term designed to make people feel better about surrendering their animals and to make the people who work there receive kudos they don't necessarily deserve. That is not to say that there aren't good people working there. A lot of what they do is difficult and they deserve respect for those issues. I am just saying that the shelters as a whole are projecting false images of what they do, sugar-coating things to make people feel better. People pat them on the back for being "humane" and "no-kill" when the reality is that they are killing animals (especially cats in the case of Columbia and Sauk Counties) right and left. I have sat in the monthly meetings and heard the shelter director laugh as she reads the monthly euthanasia report. It's sickening. And I don't know of a single humane society that doesn't euthanize for FeLV and FIV, even though the cat's life expectancy is not necessarily affected by these viruses. If the shelter is overcrowded and a cat tests positive for FeLV, it's "luck" for the shelter because they now have an excuse to euthanize and feel they can justify it because it is not about space. It's one less cat to deal with and it makes me insanely angry. Shelters that look for excuses and reasons to euthanize cats should not be allowed to call themselves "no-kill." And guess what folks...they also euthanize for RINGWORM...a curable, benign fungal infection. Yes, they are killing cats for athlete's foot. Remember, it's a "medical issue" that is transmissible to humans. It is so much easier for them to kill the cat than to deal with the infection.
Ok, so let's look at Feline Leukemia. Unlike in humans, FeLV is a virus, not a cancer. Yes, it is transmissible from cat to cat. It is NOT transmissible to humans or dogs or other animals. Remember, it is FELINE leukemia. It can be transmitted through bodily fluids, including saliva, urine, feces, semen, etc. However, it is NOT as highly transmissible as shelters want you to believe. (Again, remember they want you to think it is a horrible disease that renders the cat unhealthy and, therefore, justifies euthanasia.) The truth is that a cat with FeLV can live a very long and prductive life without ever being sick. Yes, it makes the cat more susceptible to illnesses and infections, but it doesn't have to mean death. If you have a cat that tests positive for FeLV, I recommend the following:
1) Keep the cat indoors at all times.
2) Make the cat the only cat in the house, unless the other cats are also FeLV positive.
3) Consult your vet about vitamin supplements and immuno-boosting treatments to keep your cat healthy.
FIV - Feline Immunodefficiency Virus. This is the equivalent of HIV in humans and, again, is specific to cats. As with humans and HIV, cats can live a very long and productive life without ever being "sick" from this virus. And, unlike FeLV, FIV is transmitted only through deep, penetrating bite wounds. So, when the question arises as to whether or not your FIV+ cat can safely live with other cats, the answer is yes. As long as the cats don't fight, they are fine. And I don't mean playing. Remember, I am talking about deep, penetrating bite wounds. And even if that occurs, there is no guarantee that the virus has been transmitted. Your cats can peacefully co-exist without a problem. And again, just like with FeLV, the FIV virus will make your cat more susceptible to infections so I highly recommend keeping him/her indoors at all times. Also, consult your vet about vitamin supplements and immuno-boosting treatments.
FIP - Feline Infectious Peritonitis. I HATE this disease and it is easily the very last thing I ever want to hear the vet say. You see, FIP is 100% fatal and there is no treatment. It comes in two forms, wet and dry. In the wet form, the cat's chest cavity fills with fluid and basically squeezes off the heart and lungs. Your cat will have profound difficulty breathing. You can drain the fluid, but it will come right back. The most humane thing you can do for the cat is euthanize and end its suffering. In the dry form, the cat may have a wide variety of symptoms, from weight loss to ataxia (difficulty walking) to seizures. Often FIP is the diagnosis for lack of a different diagnosis. Again, the most humane thing you can do is euthanize.
Here is the thing about FIP. It is a coronavirus. There are literally more than 300 coronaviruses in the environment and only one of them carries the FIP strain. If your cat has ever set a single toe outdoors or has ever been exposed to another cat, chances are he/she has been exposed to one of the 300+ coronaviruses. And if, by chance, it is the FIP strain, there is no guarantee your cat will ever get sick. If your vet suggests testing the cat for FIP, DO NOT WASTE YOUR MONEY! There is NO DEFINITIVE TEST FOR FIP. The test that they run will only tell you that the cat has been exposed to one of the 300+ coronaviruses. It will not tell you for sure that it is the FIP strain. If the cat is not deathly ill and in need of immediate euthanasia, the only thing you can do is treat the symptoms. If the cat gets better, you are not dealing with FIP and should keep doing what you are doing. If the cat continues to get sick, it is most likely FIP and you should end its suffering humanely.
I am getting off my cat-care soapbox now with two final pieces of advice. First and foremost, ALWAYS work in conjunction with your veterinarian on any health issues involving your cat. Secondly, DO NOT GIVE COW'S MILK TO YOUR CAT. CATS ARE LACTOSE INTOLERANT. 'Nuff said.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Optimism
The last thing I want to do is turn my blog into a diet diary. So, although I may mention my progress (or lack thereof), please don't think that is what this blog will be all about. However, it is most consuming in these first few days and has me thinking about optimism. I have a reserved sort of optimism about this whole diet thing. I think I have just failed so many times that it is hard to get my hopes up. But yesterday was ok and I think that going "public" with my struggle is going to be a good thing. I got a lot of good advice yesterday and a lot of loving support and I am very grateful. I managed to get through the day with only 1/2 can of Mountain Dew, a small bowl of whole grain oatmeal in the morning with my one cup of coffee and fish with green beans for dinner. Now I realize that 1/2 can of Mountain Dew still isn't good. But I'm trying. Let me put yesterday in perspective for all of us. Normally, for breakfast, I would eat at least 2 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on white bread with 2 cups of coffee (with cream and Splenda). For lunch I would eat whatever was in the fridge, usually a couple sandwiches (again on white bread) with 2 cans of Mountain Dew. Dinner 90% of the time is pizza with another 2-3 cans of Mountain Dew followed by dessert. The latest was Ben & Jerry's pumpkin cheesecake ice cream. (It's gross BTW). And then add in all the crap I eat between meals. I don't think I have ever gone to Kwik Trip without picking up a candy bar and, yes, a Mountain Dew. So 1/2 can of Mountain Dew is an ENORMOUS stride for me and I am proud of myself for it. I also asked Nikayla not to get Mountain Dew to accompany Thanksgiving dinner. I have to do better with that and I have decided that it is all about the baby steps. I know myself well enough to know that if I drop Mountain Dew cold turkey (no Thanksgiving pun intended), I will fall right off the wagon and drink a 6 pack in one sitting. So for now I have to be ok with 1/2 can a day. There aren't many things that I feel like I need to allow myself in order for this to work. I can give up sweets and pizza and chocolate. That's no problem. But I am an addict when it comes to Mountain Dew and I need to treat it like an addiction. And unless there is an in-patient treatment facility for Mountain Dew addiction, I have to give myself a little breathing room to do things the right way. It's not an excuse to have 1/2 can of Mountain Dew a day. It's being realistic and smart.
So far today I have had my coffee and my whole grain oatmeal. I feel pretty good and I will be looking into joining a gym later this afternoon. As usual, my knees and back are of the highest concern for me, but I know there are things I can do to compensate for that. Albeit cautious, I am optimistic. Stay tuned...
So far today I have had my coffee and my whole grain oatmeal. I feel pretty good and I will be looking into joining a gym later this afternoon. As usual, my knees and back are of the highest concern for me, but I know there are things I can do to compensate for that. Albeit cautious, I am optimistic. Stay tuned...
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Look at The Fat Girl
I am 39 years old and I have been "heavy" my whole life. You can call it what it is and avoid all the happy, supposedly less painful euphamisms like "big boned" or "overweight". Call it what it is...fat. I currently weigh 220 pounds as of this morning. That is officially my heaviest weight ever. I have tried just about every diet known to man and the only one that ever worked was the Atkins Diet. However, as an advocate for animals, I find it very difficult to sustain a diet of almost entirely meat and cheese. And I can't imagine what it does to my cholesterol level. So, that's out. Recently, my sister-in-law, Mickie, lost weight. She looks fantastic and you can tell in speaking with her for 5 minutes that she feels better too. I want that.
The other day I had my niece, Nikayla, feel my knee as I bent it. She is a student of physical therapy and is well schooled on kinesiology and the way knees are supposed to work. Mine clicked and ground and popped as I flexed and extended the joint. I didn't have to look at Nikayla's face to know it wasn't a good thing. I have stopped using the stairs in favor of the elevator because it is getting too painful. Nik said that my patella, or knee cap, is not in the patellar groove where it is supposed to be...on either knee. When I jokingly said that I expect to have double knee replacements before I am 50, she didn't disagree and my joke suddenly wasn't funny. When the clicking and popping of my knees lessened when I sat down and flexed the joint, it became painfully clear that a lot of the problem is the weight my knees are asked to support.
In 1995, my mother was diagnosed with emphysema. She was told to quit smoking or she would die. She quit and she is still here 15 years later. In 2002, my father was diagnosed with pretty severe coronary artery disease. He was told that they would not do open heart surgery to correct the problem as long as he refused to quit smoking because they felt he did not stand a meaningful chance of recovery as long as he was smoking. Dad still refused and he died in 2003. Recently, my oldest brother, Roy, died of a heart attack at age 55. He had high cholesterol and high blood pressure and, surely, his doctors told him to quit smoking. He didn't. I don't know if that would have made a difference, but there may be a chance he would still be here if he could have given up that vice.
So here is the deal. I don't want to die young and I don't want to have my knees replaced. I don't want to live in a wheelchair because my knees can't handle my weight. I don't want to be incapacitated and unable to walk my dogs. So, it is time to lose some weight. My goal is 75 pounds, which would get me down to a respectable 145.
Normally, I am very private about my efforts to lose weight. I hate being open about it because I feel like everyone is looking at me, watching my failure time after time after time. I feel like everyone is pointing and laughing and saying, "Look at the fat girl." I pride myself in completing tasks and being successful in things that I do. Weight loss has been the greatest struggle and most tremendous failure of my life. So, I have decided that it is time to get people involved. Maybe I need the pressure of being watched by people that care. Maybe I need the pressure of being questioned about how much I have lost or gained. Maybe I just need to be in a position to prove myself to others. So consider this your official invitation to look at the fat girl. Watch me get thinner before your very eyes. I know I can do this. Food is my vice and I know the biggest obstacles that I face will be mental and emotional ones, not physical ones. But if I don't do this NOW, I will soon be faced with physical obstacles as well. I have to help my knees before it is too late. The warning signs are there and I need to follow my mom's example and listen to them.
So today begins a journey. Today is the first day of what I know will be the longest, most difficult year of my personal life but it has to be done. Fasten your seatbelt...
The other day I had my niece, Nikayla, feel my knee as I bent it. She is a student of physical therapy and is well schooled on kinesiology and the way knees are supposed to work. Mine clicked and ground and popped as I flexed and extended the joint. I didn't have to look at Nikayla's face to know it wasn't a good thing. I have stopped using the stairs in favor of the elevator because it is getting too painful. Nik said that my patella, or knee cap, is not in the patellar groove where it is supposed to be...on either knee. When I jokingly said that I expect to have double knee replacements before I am 50, she didn't disagree and my joke suddenly wasn't funny. When the clicking and popping of my knees lessened when I sat down and flexed the joint, it became painfully clear that a lot of the problem is the weight my knees are asked to support.
In 1995, my mother was diagnosed with emphysema. She was told to quit smoking or she would die. She quit and she is still here 15 years later. In 2002, my father was diagnosed with pretty severe coronary artery disease. He was told that they would not do open heart surgery to correct the problem as long as he refused to quit smoking because they felt he did not stand a meaningful chance of recovery as long as he was smoking. Dad still refused and he died in 2003. Recently, my oldest brother, Roy, died of a heart attack at age 55. He had high cholesterol and high blood pressure and, surely, his doctors told him to quit smoking. He didn't. I don't know if that would have made a difference, but there may be a chance he would still be here if he could have given up that vice.
So here is the deal. I don't want to die young and I don't want to have my knees replaced. I don't want to live in a wheelchair because my knees can't handle my weight. I don't want to be incapacitated and unable to walk my dogs. So, it is time to lose some weight. My goal is 75 pounds, which would get me down to a respectable 145.
Normally, I am very private about my efforts to lose weight. I hate being open about it because I feel like everyone is looking at me, watching my failure time after time after time. I feel like everyone is pointing and laughing and saying, "Look at the fat girl." I pride myself in completing tasks and being successful in things that I do. Weight loss has been the greatest struggle and most tremendous failure of my life. So, I have decided that it is time to get people involved. Maybe I need the pressure of being watched by people that care. Maybe I need the pressure of being questioned about how much I have lost or gained. Maybe I just need to be in a position to prove myself to others. So consider this your official invitation to look at the fat girl. Watch me get thinner before your very eyes. I know I can do this. Food is my vice and I know the biggest obstacles that I face will be mental and emotional ones, not physical ones. But if I don't do this NOW, I will soon be faced with physical obstacles as well. I have to help my knees before it is too late. The warning signs are there and I need to follow my mom's example and listen to them.
So today begins a journey. Today is the first day of what I know will be the longest, most difficult year of my personal life but it has to be done. Fasten your seatbelt...
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Final Wishes Revisited
Today is November 11, 2011...11/11/11. I am updating this post.
On a previous post, not too long ago on this very blog, I spoke of my final wishes. It was sort of a tongue-in-cheek look at things, although I meant what I said about scattering part of my ashes at Wrigley Field. But, in light of the recent and completely unexpected death of my brother Roy at the young age of 55, I would like to, in all seriousness, revisit this issue. The questions of: "What did Roy want?" haunt all of us now in retrospect and I am not willing to let this fall on my loved ones if something happens to me. So sit back, fasten your seatbelt and listen up. So you have no questions, this is what I want...
1. The cats, by and large, can go to no-kill rescues. I do NOT want them shipped off to the humane society where a majority of them will be euthanized. That is not what I have worked all this time for and I swear that I will haunt anyone who makes the decision to send them there. Don't test me.
2. Alecs - Please find him a home where he will be loved and cared for. He is an old guy and I am the only one he has ever known. He needs special care. Please try to keep him in the family. Nikayla?
3. Sarge - She is my baby and will not do well at a rescue. Please find her a home, preferably within the family, but at least somewhere where she is the only cat and will get lots of attention.
4. Chance - He is a special boy who only loves me. He will need an understanding place where he is shown patience and lots and lots of love. Again, family is ideal. Chance has a benign growth on the right side of his neck. It's nothing, but it has to be drained once in awhile. Just stick it with a needle.
5. Libby - She fancies herself feral but she isn't. She just can't be picked up. Please find her a home where she can live indoors in peace where her family doesn't care that she doesn't cuddle.
6. Spirit - Please call Barb Ulrich (her number is in my phone) and ask her to help with Spirit. Spirit has seizures and it is critical that she have her Phenobarbitol on time. Dr. Gerber calls the prescrition in to Wilz Drug. She gets 1/2 tablet twice a day around 8am and 8pm.
7. My dogs: FIRST AND FOREMOST, YOU MUST NOT MIX THE DOGS!!! WRIGLEY, HARRY & DAWSON ARE OK TOGETHER. BARNEY, CHARLIE, TUCKER AND GRETCHEN ARE OK TOGETHER. DO NOT MIX THEM ANY OTHER WAY OR THERE WILL BE A FIGHT TO THE DEATH.
Please get Barb Ulrich involved in rehoming the dogs. She is a busy lady but she is the BEST. She will help in any way she can, especially with the beagle.
Please, please, please do not separate Wrigley, Harry and Dawson. They were born together and raised together and they need to stay together. It is a tall order but it is essential to their survival. They don't know how to function without each other. Again, DO NOT take them to the humane society or I swear to God I will haunt you...and it won't be pleasant. Make sure that whomever takes them knows not to feed them together in an enclosed space. There has to be a minimum of 8 feet between Dawson and Harry or they will fight. Set Dawson's bowl down first, then Wrigley and then Harry's. Harry may not eat unless you sing, "Harry Baby" to the tune of "Sherry Baby" gently to him first.
Wrigley taught herself to fetch. When she jumps on you, she is just trying to give you the ball so her brothers can't get it. Be patient with that.
Dawson loves to swim and fetch his tennis ball in the water. He doesn't care much about it on land.
Harry has had both of his rear Anterior Cruciate Ligaments replaced and will probably have arthritis at some point in his life. Please be gentle with him and if there is any indication that something is wrong, please call Dr. David Gerber at 920-623-3366. He will know what to do.
Tucker - Call Jaime and see if she can take him back. Otherwise, please find him a good home with someone who has a lot of energy and plenty of tennis balls. He would do very well with another dog. He loves to swim and chase his tennis ball in the water. Tucker takes one tablet of Glycoflex II daily for joint support.
Barney - Barney needs to be an indoor dog and would do well being the only dog in the house. However, he could easily live with Charlie, Gretchen and/or Tucker. Barney had a rough life until I got him and doesn't have a lot of manners. He requires a lot of love and patience.
Charlie - The sweetest dog on the planet. Please find her a good, loving home with someone who understands beagles. And please ask them not to change her name. I finally got her to respond to it.
Gretchen - Robbie? She loves Uncle Robbie. If he can't take her, please find her a good home with a woman, preferably an older one. She is a cuddler and a very devoted dog once she gets to know you. The less commotion in her life, the better. KEEP GRETCHEN AWAY FROM CHILDREN. She needs quiet.
Now, let's talk about my funeral.
1. I want to be cremated. If people want to see me first and say goodbye, I am ok with that. Just have me embalmed and displayed in a rental casket and then sent off for cremation.
2. I will have a life insurance policy through my employer beginning in January 2012. Nikayla, I will make you the primary beneficiary. Please use it to pay for my funeral and to help rehome the animals. If there is anything left, use it for whatever you need.
3. My obituary only needs to go in the Portage paper. No one else really knows me so don't spend the money. Please mention my work as an animal rescuer as a life accomplishment. It means a lot to me. Other information you may need for an obituary:
1989 graduate of Pardeeville High School
1993 graduate of University of Wisconsin - Platteville with a BA in Criminal Justice, Minor in Psychology
Emergency Medical Technician - Intermediate for 16 years. I worked (at various times throughout my career) in Pardeeville, Portage, Wisconsin Dells and Milwaukee.
Animal rescuer, particularly special needs and feral cats. I love all animals.
I would love it if you would mention my dogs, Wrigley, Harry, Dawson, Barney, Charlie, Tucker and Gretchen and my cats Alecs, Maggie, Sarge, Jackson, Joey, Chance, Libby, Nemo, Dory, Alice, Maverick, Isabel, Pipsy, Caesar, Niko, and Jupiter by name in my obituary. They are my children, just like anyone else's human children are theirs.
I was preceded in death by my cats Coley, Tucker, Ozzie, Riley, Emma, Maxie, Lottie, Bob, Mister, Goldie, Clint, and Murphy and my dogs, Sandy & Ben.
Now, as far as who gets what: I don't have very many tangible items but there are a few things I hold near and dear.
My Cubs hats and softball glove - Nikayla
My family history information and research - Adam
My Fenton shoe collection - Robbie
My car (if it is worth anything) - Robbie
My teddy bear that I got when I was 3 - Nikayla
I will add things as I think of them.
Finally, when all is said and done, I want my ashes to be mixed with those of my animals and then mixed into a litter box. It seems most appropriate. When the cats are done with me, just scoop out the poop and send me off with it. I am completely serious about that. I don't want anyone to be burdened with an urn full of Aunt Heidi sitting in their living room. I want to be free. Please refer to my previous blog post titled "Final Wishes."
I think I have everything covered. If not, I will update this post as things come to mind. Hopefully it won't be too late...you never know... (Updated 11/11/11)
Ok, I thought of something else. Please do not allow either of my sisters to speak at my funeral. They were not nice to me during my life and attached conditions to their love. No matter how hard I tried, I never met those conditions. My funeral will not be a stage for them to pretend to have loved me and portray themselves as good people. It will not be a way for Gabby to make herself the center of attention, portraying herself as the loving, grieving sister so everyone will flock around her. (EYE ROLL!) They treated me like crap because they could not accept me for who I am. If they couldn't accept me in life, they should not have the opportunity to accept me in death. The thought of either of them standing up in front of a group of people who DID love me unconditionally and saying things that make it appear as if we were even remotely friends makes me gag. I would be perfectly happy if Gabby was her usual selfish self and boycotted my funeral. Goodbye and good riddens. If Thairn wants to attend to support Nikayla, that's fine. But she can stay in her seat and keep her mouth shut. Amen.
Oh, and regarding organ donation: If they can use it, give it to them. There are people out there like Lisa who have young children and are waiting for an organ to save their lives. If I can help them, please let me. I have spent my whole life helping people and now, because of Lisa, I know what it is like to be on the waiting side of things. My blood type is B+.
On a previous post, not too long ago on this very blog, I spoke of my final wishes. It was sort of a tongue-in-cheek look at things, although I meant what I said about scattering part of my ashes at Wrigley Field. But, in light of the recent and completely unexpected death of my brother Roy at the young age of 55, I would like to, in all seriousness, revisit this issue. The questions of: "What did Roy want?" haunt all of us now in retrospect and I am not willing to let this fall on my loved ones if something happens to me. So sit back, fasten your seatbelt and listen up. So you have no questions, this is what I want...
1. The cats, by and large, can go to no-kill rescues. I do NOT want them shipped off to the humane society where a majority of them will be euthanized. That is not what I have worked all this time for and I swear that I will haunt anyone who makes the decision to send them there. Don't test me.
2. Alecs - Please find him a home where he will be loved and cared for. He is an old guy and I am the only one he has ever known. He needs special care. Please try to keep him in the family. Nikayla?
3. Sarge - She is my baby and will not do well at a rescue. Please find her a home, preferably within the family, but at least somewhere where she is the only cat and will get lots of attention.
4. Chance - He is a special boy who only loves me. He will need an understanding place where he is shown patience and lots and lots of love. Again, family is ideal. Chance has a benign growth on the right side of his neck. It's nothing, but it has to be drained once in awhile. Just stick it with a needle.
5. Libby - She fancies herself feral but she isn't. She just can't be picked up. Please find her a home where she can live indoors in peace where her family doesn't care that she doesn't cuddle.
6. Spirit - Please call Barb Ulrich (her number is in my phone) and ask her to help with Spirit. Spirit has seizures and it is critical that she have her Phenobarbitol on time. Dr. Gerber calls the prescrition in to Wilz Drug. She gets 1/2 tablet twice a day around 8am and 8pm.
7. My dogs: FIRST AND FOREMOST, YOU MUST NOT MIX THE DOGS!!! WRIGLEY, HARRY & DAWSON ARE OK TOGETHER. BARNEY, CHARLIE, TUCKER AND GRETCHEN ARE OK TOGETHER. DO NOT MIX THEM ANY OTHER WAY OR THERE WILL BE A FIGHT TO THE DEATH.
Please get Barb Ulrich involved in rehoming the dogs. She is a busy lady but she is the BEST. She will help in any way she can, especially with the beagle.
Please, please, please do not separate Wrigley, Harry and Dawson. They were born together and raised together and they need to stay together. It is a tall order but it is essential to their survival. They don't know how to function without each other. Again, DO NOT take them to the humane society or I swear to God I will haunt you...and it won't be pleasant. Make sure that whomever takes them knows not to feed them together in an enclosed space. There has to be a minimum of 8 feet between Dawson and Harry or they will fight. Set Dawson's bowl down first, then Wrigley and then Harry's. Harry may not eat unless you sing, "Harry Baby" to the tune of "Sherry Baby" gently to him first.
Wrigley taught herself to fetch. When she jumps on you, she is just trying to give you the ball so her brothers can't get it. Be patient with that.
Dawson loves to swim and fetch his tennis ball in the water. He doesn't care much about it on land.
Harry has had both of his rear Anterior Cruciate Ligaments replaced and will probably have arthritis at some point in his life. Please be gentle with him and if there is any indication that something is wrong, please call Dr. David Gerber at 920-623-3366. He will know what to do.
Tucker - Call Jaime and see if she can take him back. Otherwise, please find him a good home with someone who has a lot of energy and plenty of tennis balls. He would do very well with another dog. He loves to swim and chase his tennis ball in the water. Tucker takes one tablet of Glycoflex II daily for joint support.
Barney - Barney needs to be an indoor dog and would do well being the only dog in the house. However, he could easily live with Charlie, Gretchen and/or Tucker. Barney had a rough life until I got him and doesn't have a lot of manners. He requires a lot of love and patience.
Charlie - The sweetest dog on the planet. Please find her a good, loving home with someone who understands beagles. And please ask them not to change her name. I finally got her to respond to it.
Gretchen - Robbie? She loves Uncle Robbie. If he can't take her, please find her a good home with a woman, preferably an older one. She is a cuddler and a very devoted dog once she gets to know you. The less commotion in her life, the better. KEEP GRETCHEN AWAY FROM CHILDREN. She needs quiet.
Now, let's talk about my funeral.
1. I want to be cremated. If people want to see me first and say goodbye, I am ok with that. Just have me embalmed and displayed in a rental casket and then sent off for cremation.
2. I will have a life insurance policy through my employer beginning in January 2012. Nikayla, I will make you the primary beneficiary. Please use it to pay for my funeral and to help rehome the animals. If there is anything left, use it for whatever you need.
3. My obituary only needs to go in the Portage paper. No one else really knows me so don't spend the money. Please mention my work as an animal rescuer as a life accomplishment. It means a lot to me. Other information you may need for an obituary:
1989 graduate of Pardeeville High School
1993 graduate of University of Wisconsin - Platteville with a BA in Criminal Justice, Minor in Psychology
Emergency Medical Technician - Intermediate for 16 years. I worked (at various times throughout my career) in Pardeeville, Portage, Wisconsin Dells and Milwaukee.
Animal rescuer, particularly special needs and feral cats. I love all animals.
I would love it if you would mention my dogs, Wrigley, Harry, Dawson, Barney, Charlie, Tucker and Gretchen and my cats Alecs, Maggie, Sarge, Jackson, Joey, Chance, Libby, Nemo, Dory, Alice, Maverick, Isabel, Pipsy, Caesar, Niko, and Jupiter by name in my obituary. They are my children, just like anyone else's human children are theirs.
I was preceded in death by my cats Coley, Tucker, Ozzie, Riley, Emma, Maxie, Lottie, Bob, Mister, Goldie, Clint, and Murphy and my dogs, Sandy & Ben.
Now, as far as who gets what: I don't have very many tangible items but there are a few things I hold near and dear.
My Cubs hats and softball glove - Nikayla
My family history information and research - Adam
My Fenton shoe collection - Robbie
My car (if it is worth anything) - Robbie
My teddy bear that I got when I was 3 - Nikayla
I will add things as I think of them.
Finally, when all is said and done, I want my ashes to be mixed with those of my animals and then mixed into a litter box. It seems most appropriate. When the cats are done with me, just scoop out the poop and send me off with it. I am completely serious about that. I don't want anyone to be burdened with an urn full of Aunt Heidi sitting in their living room. I want to be free. Please refer to my previous blog post titled "Final Wishes."
I think I have everything covered. If not, I will update this post as things come to mind. Hopefully it won't be too late...you never know... (Updated 11/11/11)
Ok, I thought of something else. Please do not allow either of my sisters to speak at my funeral. They were not nice to me during my life and attached conditions to their love. No matter how hard I tried, I never met those conditions. My funeral will not be a stage for them to pretend to have loved me and portray themselves as good people. It will not be a way for Gabby to make herself the center of attention, portraying herself as the loving, grieving sister so everyone will flock around her. (EYE ROLL!) They treated me like crap because they could not accept me for who I am. If they couldn't accept me in life, they should not have the opportunity to accept me in death. The thought of either of them standing up in front of a group of people who DID love me unconditionally and saying things that make it appear as if we were even remotely friends makes me gag. I would be perfectly happy if Gabby was her usual selfish self and boycotted my funeral. Goodbye and good riddens. If Thairn wants to attend to support Nikayla, that's fine. But she can stay in her seat and keep her mouth shut. Amen.
Oh, and regarding organ donation: If they can use it, give it to them. There are people out there like Lisa who have young children and are waiting for an organ to save their lives. If I can help them, please let me. I have spent my whole life helping people and now, because of Lisa, I know what it is like to be on the waiting side of things. My blood type is B+.
The Death of My Brother, Roy William Shields
On October 31, the world as I know it ceased to rotate. Everything and everyone came to a screeching halt. Time stood still as I listened to my niece Jaime sob uncontrollably on the phone. "Have you heard from Kathy?" she asked. "No," I replied, "What's wrong? What is going on?" In an instant, I knew, before the words could come out of Jaime's mouth that something terrible had happened to her father, my brother, Roy. "Dad's dead," she said, "Is it true?" I had not heard anything and the assumption on everyone's part is that the first person Kathy would have called would have been my mother. "Let's not jump the gun here," I replied, "Stay calm and let me make a phone call. We don't know anything yet."
With Jaime on my cell phone, I walked back into my mother's apartment and dialed Kathy's number on the landline. "Kathy," I said, "It's Heidi...it is true?" Based on Kathy's voice, I knew the answer to that question before she said, "Yes." I don't recall the rest of the conversation. I knew I now had to do the hardest thing I have ever done and will probably ever have to do. I had to tell my mother that she had just lost her son...the son who visited us only 9 days earlier. I fell to my knees. My mother had heard me say "Kathy" and knew something was very, very wrong. "What is wrong?" she asked, "What happened to Roy?" The words caught in my throat as I delivered the news that would change all of our lives forever. Mom began to cry and hyperventilate, repeatedly saying, "No, it can't be."
My attention turned to making phone calls. People had to be told and something in my brain kicked into high gear and a sort of business mode that would prevent me from feeling the horrible emptiness that had just taken over my heart and soul. I think it is the EMT in me that allows me to do this. I called my sister Thairn first. She didn't answer. I knew Nikayla was in town so I called her. "Nik, I need your mom. Get your mom! I need to talk to your mom!" Nikayla, of course, asked what was wrong. Shocked, she said, "I will get her. We'll be right there." I regret telling Nikayla this way because it forced her to have to deliver the news to her own mother, as I had just done to mine. I'm sorry, Nik. I wish I had handled that better and taken that burden off your shoulders.
The next person I called was my best friend, Lisa. I was losing the ability to think clearly and I knew Lisa would be level-headed. She arrived at mom's apartment within minutes and didn't leave my side for the duration of this horrible day.
Lisa helped me make phone calls. She called my sister Gabby, which was very brave on Lisa's part. As expected, Gabby was quite rude to Lisa and in-not-so-many-words accused her of lying. (I have known Lisa for many years and I assure you she does not tell people their family member has died for fun.) Then she called Rodney, her old friend from high school.
I called Robbie and Ron and got no answers. So I kept trying. Finally I was able to reach Ron and asked him to call Raymond in Florida. Robbie saw that I had called his cell phone and called me back. Thairn left to pick Robbie up.
I began running down the list of nieces and nephews. Gabby would call April and Donny. I called Rachel and Adam. Ron would call Jake. Everyone else lives with their parents and probably already knew.
In the midst of all of this, my sister Gabby called back. Her agenda? Not to check on mom. Not to ask what happened to Roy. Not to cry with us and share in the shock. Her agenda was to bitch about the fact that Lisa and not mom had called her with the news. So let's get this straight...I just told Mom that her son, her oldest boy who she just saw 9 days earlier, had had a heart attack and was gone, and her first thoughts were supposed to be of Gabby. Mom was not doing well with the news and wasn't even able to speak, let alone pick up the phone and start making calls. But, as usual, the selfishness of my oldest sister shined right through. Thairn fielded the phone call, began to cry, and hung up on the dumb bitch in Washington. Yes, Gabby, that is what we all needed at that point in time. My God you are unbelievable. Selfish...egotistical...psychotic...self-absorbed and unbelievable.
I spoke to Kathy several times that day, worried about the fact that she was alone. They had just moved to Georgia and she knew no one. Her son was not due to arrive until the next morning. I can honestly say that I have never heard someone so upset in my life. The shock was overwhelming her and I was powerless to try to help.
I know that everyone copes with things differently and I know that everyone mourns in different ways. My coping mechanism is to take care of things. I WANT to be the one to make the funeral plans and all the phone calls. It is my way of feeling like I am doing something useful to try to help a helpless situation. Does that make any sense? So Lisa and I headed to the funeral home to at least get an obituary in the paper. Many people loved my brother and would need to know we had lost him. They would want to know.
The next entire week is somewhat of a blur and I still find it hard to believe that the world stopped turning over a week ago already. Roy died on a Sunday. His body arrived at the airport in Milwaukee on Tuesday. Jaime, Roy Michael and I were there to meet him. I almost wish I hadn't gone. You see, my brother wasn't traveling. He wasn't a passenger. He was freight. Marty from the funeral home warned us that he would not be in a casket, but in a reinforced cardboard box. I was willing and able to accept that. However, what he didn't warn us about, was the shipping label on the box. In large letters it read, "Human Remains of Roy William Shields." Human remains??? Human remains are what they find in the woods five years after someone is murdered. Human remains are what they hauled out of Jeffrey Dahmer's apartment in 1989. THOSE are human remains. This is my brother! This is Jaime and Roy Michaels's father! I wanted to scream. It all suddenly became real. That part of my brain that was still convinced that this was a terrible mistake, a horrible and sick Halloween joke, was beginning to come to reality. If the label said Roy was in that box, he must be in that box. But still, I had not actually seen him. It still could be the wrong man.
The next day we needed to finalize the plans for the funeral and meet with Pastor Boeck. Jaime, Roy Michael, Mom and I met at the funeral home. Jaime and Roy had requested to see their dad and the gracious people at the funeral home told them to take their time. I was hesitant, but I wanted to glance into the room. I needed to know if it was really him. I opened the door slowly. There, at the front of the room, covered in surgical drapes, was my oldest brother. There was the man who took me fishing when I was a kid. There was the man who took me to Horicon Marsh when I was little to watch the thousands of geese come and go. There was the man who used to let me beat him at Blackjack so I would have laundry money for college. There was the man who was a tremendous part of my life and my memories and he was lifeless. It really was Roy. He really was dead.
The funeral was on Saturday, November 6, the day after Rodney's 41st birthday. I keep reliving that day and the funeral, hoping we did everything right. I think Roy would have been proud. The pastor did a wonderful job and all of us (Roy's siblings) spoke or dedicated a song to Roy. It ended with military honors and bagpipes. And when all was said and done, I approached the casket one more time. I kissed it gently, rested my hand upon it and said goodbye to my brother for the last time as my tears fell.
Roy, thank you for being the big brother that every little girl dreams of. You were my mentor, my protector, my biggest fan, my hero and my friend. I will always hold you very near to my heart and I will think of you every day. I vowed to you that I will take care of and watch over Jaime and Roy Michael and I will keep that promise. I will always be there for them like you were for me. I love you and I miss you. But I know I will see you again someday. Keep dancing...
With Jaime on my cell phone, I walked back into my mother's apartment and dialed Kathy's number on the landline. "Kathy," I said, "It's Heidi...it is true?" Based on Kathy's voice, I knew the answer to that question before she said, "Yes." I don't recall the rest of the conversation. I knew I now had to do the hardest thing I have ever done and will probably ever have to do. I had to tell my mother that she had just lost her son...the son who visited us only 9 days earlier. I fell to my knees. My mother had heard me say "Kathy" and knew something was very, very wrong. "What is wrong?" she asked, "What happened to Roy?" The words caught in my throat as I delivered the news that would change all of our lives forever. Mom began to cry and hyperventilate, repeatedly saying, "No, it can't be."
My attention turned to making phone calls. People had to be told and something in my brain kicked into high gear and a sort of business mode that would prevent me from feeling the horrible emptiness that had just taken over my heart and soul. I think it is the EMT in me that allows me to do this. I called my sister Thairn first. She didn't answer. I knew Nikayla was in town so I called her. "Nik, I need your mom. Get your mom! I need to talk to your mom!" Nikayla, of course, asked what was wrong. Shocked, she said, "I will get her. We'll be right there." I regret telling Nikayla this way because it forced her to have to deliver the news to her own mother, as I had just done to mine. I'm sorry, Nik. I wish I had handled that better and taken that burden off your shoulders.
The next person I called was my best friend, Lisa. I was losing the ability to think clearly and I knew Lisa would be level-headed. She arrived at mom's apartment within minutes and didn't leave my side for the duration of this horrible day.
Lisa helped me make phone calls. She called my sister Gabby, which was very brave on Lisa's part. As expected, Gabby was quite rude to Lisa and in-not-so-many-words accused her of lying. (I have known Lisa for many years and I assure you she does not tell people their family member has died for fun.) Then she called Rodney, her old friend from high school.
I called Robbie and Ron and got no answers. So I kept trying. Finally I was able to reach Ron and asked him to call Raymond in Florida. Robbie saw that I had called his cell phone and called me back. Thairn left to pick Robbie up.
I began running down the list of nieces and nephews. Gabby would call April and Donny. I called Rachel and Adam. Ron would call Jake. Everyone else lives with their parents and probably already knew.
In the midst of all of this, my sister Gabby called back. Her agenda? Not to check on mom. Not to ask what happened to Roy. Not to cry with us and share in the shock. Her agenda was to bitch about the fact that Lisa and not mom had called her with the news. So let's get this straight...I just told Mom that her son, her oldest boy who she just saw 9 days earlier, had had a heart attack and was gone, and her first thoughts were supposed to be of Gabby. Mom was not doing well with the news and wasn't even able to speak, let alone pick up the phone and start making calls. But, as usual, the selfishness of my oldest sister shined right through. Thairn fielded the phone call, began to cry, and hung up on the dumb bitch in Washington. Yes, Gabby, that is what we all needed at that point in time. My God you are unbelievable. Selfish...egotistical...psychotic...self-absorbed and unbelievable.
I spoke to Kathy several times that day, worried about the fact that she was alone. They had just moved to Georgia and she knew no one. Her son was not due to arrive until the next morning. I can honestly say that I have never heard someone so upset in my life. The shock was overwhelming her and I was powerless to try to help.
I know that everyone copes with things differently and I know that everyone mourns in different ways. My coping mechanism is to take care of things. I WANT to be the one to make the funeral plans and all the phone calls. It is my way of feeling like I am doing something useful to try to help a helpless situation. Does that make any sense? So Lisa and I headed to the funeral home to at least get an obituary in the paper. Many people loved my brother and would need to know we had lost him. They would want to know.
The next entire week is somewhat of a blur and I still find it hard to believe that the world stopped turning over a week ago already. Roy died on a Sunday. His body arrived at the airport in Milwaukee on Tuesday. Jaime, Roy Michael and I were there to meet him. I almost wish I hadn't gone. You see, my brother wasn't traveling. He wasn't a passenger. He was freight. Marty from the funeral home warned us that he would not be in a casket, but in a reinforced cardboard box. I was willing and able to accept that. However, what he didn't warn us about, was the shipping label on the box. In large letters it read, "Human Remains of Roy William Shields." Human remains??? Human remains are what they find in the woods five years after someone is murdered. Human remains are what they hauled out of Jeffrey Dahmer's apartment in 1989. THOSE are human remains. This is my brother! This is Jaime and Roy Michaels's father! I wanted to scream. It all suddenly became real. That part of my brain that was still convinced that this was a terrible mistake, a horrible and sick Halloween joke, was beginning to come to reality. If the label said Roy was in that box, he must be in that box. But still, I had not actually seen him. It still could be the wrong man.
The next day we needed to finalize the plans for the funeral and meet with Pastor Boeck. Jaime, Roy Michael, Mom and I met at the funeral home. Jaime and Roy had requested to see their dad and the gracious people at the funeral home told them to take their time. I was hesitant, but I wanted to glance into the room. I needed to know if it was really him. I opened the door slowly. There, at the front of the room, covered in surgical drapes, was my oldest brother. There was the man who took me fishing when I was a kid. There was the man who took me to Horicon Marsh when I was little to watch the thousands of geese come and go. There was the man who used to let me beat him at Blackjack so I would have laundry money for college. There was the man who was a tremendous part of my life and my memories and he was lifeless. It really was Roy. He really was dead.
The funeral was on Saturday, November 6, the day after Rodney's 41st birthday. I keep reliving that day and the funeral, hoping we did everything right. I think Roy would have been proud. The pastor did a wonderful job and all of us (Roy's siblings) spoke or dedicated a song to Roy. It ended with military honors and bagpipes. And when all was said and done, I approached the casket one more time. I kissed it gently, rested my hand upon it and said goodbye to my brother for the last time as my tears fell.
Roy, thank you for being the big brother that every little girl dreams of. You were my mentor, my protector, my biggest fan, my hero and my friend. I will always hold you very near to my heart and I will think of you every day. I vowed to you that I will take care of and watch over Jaime and Roy Michael and I will keep that promise. I will always be there for them like you were for me. I love you and I miss you. But I know I will see you again someday. Keep dancing...
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