Lizzie's realm

Hapy birthday to my little Mina, who's turning five today!
(Yes, I know she is a kitty, but c'mon- I did raise her on my own, so cut me some slack! :P). The first picture is of her when she was a week old, with dad feeding her with a bottle- she stood in half of his hands, and was CRAZY about him. The other is of t he last Christmas :)

cats owners over there on lj: how do you make your cat to take pills? I should dose Mina with anti-worms pills, but we've tried already twice this year, and with no effect. The liquid version of the drug isn't strong enough according to our vet-and he is normally right, trust me, that man seems that eh ahd just escaped from a banlieu, hasn't learnt completely Italian after 30 yrears spnet here, but he is a freaking genious- but little devil vomits it if we mix it with water and if she tastes it with food- any food,even meat- she just stops eating.
So, what do you do?
  

Just returned from the vet. apparently, kitty's starnge behaviour means one thing and one thing only:
kitty is in heat. it also mean that kitty wasn't a boy, but a girl (so, say hello to Mino and welcome to Mina...)

I'm aware I don't exactly possess the most amazing social life, and I know many would call me... well... pathetic.
But I do love my puppies, I care about them. and, for few of them, I spent time carying about them, looking for them.
I'm aware losing an animal is nowhere close to losing a person, and I'm aware few could be... ashamed of seens one personbeing so emotional about losing a cat, but I can't help it. I know its' not gonna last, I know I'll deal with it in a matter of days, but I still feel like sh#t. (sorry for the expression, but I really don't know what to say)
This morning, we had to euthanasy (I don't like the term suppression) Suo, the cat we found couple of months ago in teh woods. He has been weak sicne the very beginning, never taking weight and always being ill.
This morning, he barely woke up. and got worst. He could have lived untill the evening. suffering and going trough hell.  and we thought about it and... accepted it.
even if it hurts.

Since my mother starting to lost sight a couple of years ago, seh gradually stopped to watch tv in favour of the radio. the only exception? MTV.
Which is shocking, probably, my mother being 52 and listening to MTV, but that's mum. In the '68, she was just 10 years old, but she was already politically oriented and a firmer beleiver of the majprity of the flower power ideology (minus drugs and free love. she was too young to understand those. politcs, though, she understood), she lstened to beat music, listened to Rolling Stones and Beatles, and, in the follwojng years, once they appeared on the scene, Queen. (when everybody here was listening to Napolitan melodic singers), so it's not suche  a big deal that nowadays she listened to rock and pop.
But, still, I like making fun of her. fridnly banter, let's say. like Lisbon and jane, but without the flirting in the middle (obviosuly).
Like yesterday, when I tild her that it was amazing, that, with MTV being mostly for teen, I had to sei it for her, an adult. "guess you de-evolved a bit, just like I did. remmeber when professor Zanoletti told you I was too mature, wise and serious for a child my age?"
(which is true... and  I could eb a little boring as well. Okl a lot. I mean, I red Dante's devine coemdy in the summer, because I didn't know what else to do since homeowrk was over and I already had the book fro the incoming year, so, why wasted it? and then, she'd ask me to say the things and share my thoughts with the class...)
she smiled, sweetly, and i could feel the tears in her voice, almost feel in hre expression. not of sadness, but soemthing slightly different.
"Yes, but, you took care of a creature, allowing it to survive. you took responsability for a life....you made sacrifices and you didn't care, you were happy to make them.... even...you didn't feel like you were sacrifing at all."
"It was just a kitty mum, so small, what I was supposed to do? abandon him? let him die? he needed someoen, and I wsa there"
"Yes, but you took him in. othdrs could have left him, but not you. you took him in and took care of every necessity he had, you still are. that's being an adult, doesn't matter if it's a cat or a baby or it's realted to work. you are an adult, you are wiese and mature. and you shouldn't think any less of you."
Beatiful words. and, hate to say it, shared tears.

So, I just had a, well, horrible week, can we say that? well, considering that I haven't stopped for one sec since Monday, I'd say we can (and I'm not talking about half a day off, I'm talking about not even one minute off kind of not stopping).
Any wonder? No, considering that there's breakfast to prepare (or help to prepare, depending on whom got uo first, me or mum), preparing the cat and the dog's medicines, (dog, one pill, cat, a mix of 4 medicines, injected in the mouth. guess who does it? the oen with a good saight and patience.). Checking my granbdmother's sugar level and calculate the insuline she needs to do (after having controlled she does actually eat, all the while listening to her saying how much her husband was "the only good thing in her life", how she "wnats to die so I'll not live without him" or that he's been so "good to take her even if he could ahve had anyone and he was such a ladykiller, and I was oh, so poor, and handycappated", which she is not, but I already argued with her about that once and I'm not gonna repeat the experience) and actually do ther insuline (because she forgets, because she can do it twice having forgetting, because she doesn't check if the whole insulin left the pen....)
all of this, between 6.15 and 7
then, there's baby cat to feed (Mino. little update: I'm weaning him! finally we are slowly moving to solid food, ie, he needs bottle-feeding only twice a day!), and, if there's nothing to do in the kitchen (unlikely) I can move upstairs to the bathroom.
Which, at this timne of the day, is already occupied by my younger brother, who's worst than the worse woman in the abthroom compartiemnt.
Yes, I mena he takes hours. well, not hours, litteraly.
Just 30 minutes, for real.
At thsi spoint, we are at 7.30, and I need to be out of the house by 7.45-7.50. So, I run, washing myself as quick as possible, taking as clothes the first acceptable things I find (I'm considering the Dylan Dog attitude, a wardarobe full of clothes, all eguals). No jewels, no make-up, there's no time.
I run to the car, and working with my father and Andrew, it emans we usually drive in the same car.
It also means as well that there are already isnide, chatting, anc complaining that I'm too slow. really.
Then..work (acceptable. everything is acceptable. really. I've never complained about the job).7
At 7.30, I'm back home- just had from 1 pm to 2 pm to have lunch- and again I check the sugar level in the blood, I do the insuline, check on the dog, looking if she is talking her medicine.  help set dinner. ready, quickly.  undone the table, prepare coffee.
It's nine.
I check on my email-finally - and read a couple of things., check soem things work-related.
10 pm. time for next control of the sugar in teh blood. same as before.
get cats and dogs ready for the night, feed once again Mino. half past ten.
I'm gone, I can barely keep my eyes open, so, i don't. I go to sleep.
Change of season. one minute is hot, the next one is cold. add insomnia in the mixx, you'll haveme sleeping at two o'clock.
Then...here we are again.  another day, where, when there's not the job, there's the dcotor, the postal office, the bank, payments, bills, insurances, doctos, hospital, drigstore, pharmacy, the shopping to do.  And...guess what? rarely tehre's space for something done FOR ME.
So, yes, I'm grumpy, and tired and on the verge of a small nervous breakdown (I'm losing weight quikcly, not a good sign, nevewr a good sign). and I'm kind of sick of people compalining because I'm moody!
Well, you know what? few years back I alwasy complained about turning itno an adult. Now? I'd trade that back!

(Are you exited there are just few hours left untill the Mentalist new season?)

As today, teh cat that the "bastard secret admirer so secret they didn't even let us know they were an admirer at all" let us in the garden od my grandparents' unhabiotated house should be around 12 days old.
Mina has came to... well, she has came to come to me for, basically, everything - I'm bottle-feeding her, preparing her the dauly dosis of kitty powder milk every morning, cleaning her and so so on.
I even got used to wake up in the middle of the night every cpouple of hours to give her warm milk - and thanks God for my biologial internal clock, so I don't need to set the alarm on.
And...
well, my mum was loking at me bottle-feeding Mina (In honour of Stocker's Dracula) with tears in her eyes, and I heard the sentence I never thought I could hear from her - basically, because it's ten years she tells me the opposite...


"I'm not ready yet to be a grand mother at all. I thought I was, but I'm not, and you are so young.... you'll be a great mother one day, I mean, you are threatening that kitty like a baby, and you are great and willing to make sacrifices for a cat so i can't even start to imagine how you'll be once you'll have a baby of your own, but... I'm not ready to be a gran mother, really.... you still have over 15 years to be a mum, but.... I don't know. I'm scared that if I'll be one too soon, I'll start asking my grabdchildren to call me Grazia instead of grandma..."