The lyf so short

Via lindahoyland. (It's not her kitten but she's brought this one to my attention.) Smokey is a young cat who swallowed some thread, which is now wrapped around his intestines and needs to be surgically removed. Owner can't afford surgery, so she's trying to get the money together via Gofundme. If you've got a few spare bucks and want to help try and save Smokey's life, the donation drive is here.

(Yeah, Smokey's owner needs to do better on phrasing and punctuation, but we can't hold that against the poor cat, can we.)

Whenever I read about things like this, I realise how lucky we've been with our cats so far. We regularly have bits of thread lying around as well as building materials and potentially poisonous plants both on the window-sills and in the garden, but they've never as yet touched any of that. Erm. *knocks on wood*

We just buried my mother-in-law's cat, Garfield.

After her cat Tom died, she insisted for years that she did not want another cat. But one thing and another led to the fact that we were looking for a home for Shakira, a stray that had come into our flat at the time, given birth to two adorable kittens, and after weaning them needed a new home because our landlord wouldn't allow us to have three cats. So the mother-in-law adopted Shakira. We had the impression that she was very happy about the new cat in her life, but unfortunately, the joy was short-lived, because Shakira continued to love the outdoors more than the indoors; one day, she was run over by a car. At that point, my mother-in-law couldn't imagine life without a cat, so she went to the local animal shelter to adopt a new cat.

They had a lot of cute fluffy kittens and pretty cat ladies, but when the mother-in-law saw the shelter's 'problem case' - Garfield, a fat, old, grumpy orange cat, living in isolation - she sort of fell in love with him. Garfield was suffering from chronic renal insufficiency, and the folks at the animal shelter only expected him to live for two or three more years; the mother-in-law said OK, let's make it three years at a nice home.

That was in 2006.

In the past year, Garfield has regularly shown signs of declining health. He was loosing weight and getting sick more often than usual. He wasn't eating much at home (special food for cats with renal issues, of course), but apparently had several families around the neighbourhood who occasionally sheltered him and fed him (not knowing about the renal insufficiency, unless they were the rare cases who actually reported Garfield's whereabouts to the mother-in-law). He also hunted and ate mice and birds, and like many self-respecting cats refused to drink anything but stale puddle water.

On Saturday, a neighbour called to let the mother-in-law know that Garfield was lying on her doormat, "moving strangely". She suspected a stroke or something of the sort, but it turned but to be "only" dehydration; however, the vet said that the kidneys had entirely stopped to function, and it was time to discuss whether there was any sense in trying to "cure" this cat. As Garfield didn't seem to be suffering any pain, and recovered from the pseudo stroke symptoms after the vet had given him an injection of the missing liquids & minerals, he spent the rest of the day at our house (to the dismay of 'náro and Mr. Darcy), which he didn't seem to mind: He either sat in the kitchen, actually eating and drinking a little (perhaps motivated by the presence of other cats, OMG COMPETITION) or in front of the fireplace. When the mother-in-law returned home with him, he behaved as usual, so when he wanted to go out, she let him out.

He spent the last three days outside, which worried the mother-in-law - on the one hand, it was his custom to go on several-day hunting trips, especially around the full moon; on the other hand, well, he wasn't quite healthy. She went searching for him, but didn't find him. This morning, she did find him. Apparently, he had returned at night, but hadn't managed the jump onto the garage roof from which he can reach her balcony and come inside. Just how he died, we don't know; but at any rate, he almost but not quite made it home. Maybe he died during the jump, or maybe he just lay down in view of home. (He didn't freeze; it's currently too warm for that.) The mother-in-law had been afraid that he might have been run over, or maybe killed by other predators, so finding him "simply fallen asleep" was some small mercy. She was also relieved that the decision to "end his suffering" was taken from her. But she feels like it's her fault because "she was away from home so much" (which, in her mind, was what made this freedom-loving cat go away for so often and seek excitingly flavoured, non-diet food at other people's homes. He never would have done that if she had been at home 24/7, surely! >_>), and of course, that hurts.

It also hurts because while Garfield was old, ill, and already living on borrowed time - "two or three good years" turned into seven - that naturally doesn't make it any easier. He was a flatmate and a family member, the sort who often annoys you with his temper and his stubbornness but whom you nonetheless don't want to miss; life will be emptier without him. (I'm crying and I wasn't nearly as fond of him as my mother-in-law was.)

We buried him in our garden, behind the blackcurrant bushes. Rest in peace, Garfield; or rather, since peace never quite seemed to be your thing, rest in a place where you can hunt whatever you want without worrying about your kidneys.

I meant to go to Kendô practice today despite my vaguely achy metatarsus (figuring that fumikomi would either break it or cure it).
I meant to finally buy new jeans but didn't find any. Ah well, Gondor has no pants, Gondor needs no pants. Or something like that.

As there was nobody at home in Cologne between classes and Kendô (my own fault, should've checked with people beforehand) and I thought I'd forgotten my keikogi anyway I decided to drive home to pick up the gi. Also to see if 'náro had finally returned from his extended roam of the neighbourhood. (Normally he comes home around midnight to sleep on our bed; last night he hadn't returned, and as it was a very cold night, Jörg and I were rather worried).
Well, turned out that there had been a truck accident at one of the construction sites. Highway closed down - fortunately just beyond my interception, but between my current location (like, seven kilometers before hte interception?) and said interception there was The Traffic Jam Of d00m.
The seven kilometers took me THREE. DAMN. HOURS. In other words I would've been faster on foot, except then my poor car would've stood alone on the highway. THREE HOURS. After a while of growling and gnashing my teeth I actually made some use the time (which was mostly standing around for half an hour, then crawl a few meters, then stand around again) by finally finishing Orality and Literacy, composing a kitschy autumn poem (no, I will not let you read it!), and reading the introduction and first 250 lines of Beowulf (which was the only other book I had with me). So the time wasn't entirely wasted. But, GRAH.

By that time, I could either have returned to Cologne for the latter half of Kendô or... not. I decided for not, instead marching around calling for 'náro who chose not to react. At this point all kinds of horrifying scenarios began to form in my head, including but not limited to wild boars, stags, dogs, sumps and/or frozen rivers.

Our neighbour showed up to tell me that a parcel had arrived for us, and would I by chance need some eggs, her hens had been over-eager again?

Picked up parcel, declined eggs. Made tea to warm up. After another hour 'náro finally turned up, complaining loudly that he was hungry. Fed him and Darcy. Needed to go to bathroom but 'náro curled up on my lap and fell asleep. Charming kitten.

Thanks to the uninsulated roof, there isn't much point in heating most rooms. Have been wearing four pairs of socks and three pullovers all weekend, had no chance to do so now due to kitten on my lap. At least lap was warm. Think I caught cold anyway. That's what I get for being too proud of my generally tough constitution. >_>

On plus side, kitten is safe, and metatarsus has stopped aching.

First thing this morning when he got outside, 'náro challenged the bellwether from across the road to a staring contest.

He won; or at least when I next look, 'náro was still proudly sitting in the same place while the bellwether was trudging away.

That's my kitten!

- - -

IKEA have strange shortages in their basic stock. When I needed Gorm shelves in spring, they were out of Gorm shelves. Not just at one IKEA, either.
I got my Gorms eventually (so I'm no longer gormless, hah!) but only because at some point they had the legs in Cologne and the shelf boards in Düsseldorf.

Now Jörg needed another Ivar shelf and - they're out of Ivars (but they have hundreds of Gorms now). That is, I got the legs and four boards in Düsseldorf today - just barely: The shelves were hidden all over the place. But I got them. (I suspect there may be a law student looking desperately for his lovingly hidden Ivar boards, though. *ducks*)

At any rate, visiting IKEA shouldn't remind me of books set in the GDR, should it?

... they have lots of Astrid Lindgren DVDs though. EVIL TEMPTERS.

The people who keep saying that mankind would be so much better if we all learned from cats have never had to see a cat torture a mouse to death.

I think.

Or they have a really sick idea of "better".

I mean, for real. I love cats, I do, but I can love someone without believing they're perfect, can't I?

Item the first:
Happy Canada Day!
*dances to Arrogant Worms music*

Item the second:
The furry kinslayer hath* struck again. This night, he made his way into the bookshelf above my computer, where he wreaked havoc in the lines of his namesake's sons (poor Maglor was even cast off the shelf. Late revenge for throwing a Silmaril away?), threw a few books over, and eventually stole two dried roses and the pack of Moomin cookies my parents had brought from Finland, which he then dispersed on the floor of three rooms - the roses and the cookies, that is.
What a productive night.


Item the third: is of the linguistic kind.

Dear English-speaking world.

Please, please, please understand that in some languages, the little dots over the letters are not optional. Yes, I know, in your language, you only know them from "naïve", where they are diaereses and only necessary to show that the two vowels shouldn't be pronounced as a diphthong, but as two distinct sounds. The same goes for when they occur Tolkien-speak ("Eä", "Fëanor", "Eöl" etc). They're only necessary because the English language has been raped by several vowel shifts and its native speakers are now no longer capable of innately understanding that, for example, "ea" should not be pronounced like /i:/ ("eagle", "east", "ear", "neat", what have you). Even in French ("canoë"), the dots are just there to help distinguish the sounds; once you know the language, you could do without them, because you know how to pronounce the damn word.

It's slightly different with Umlauts. No, for fuck's sake, it's not "Fraulein" (unless you want to pronounce it the Middle High German way, in which case, however, it would be written "frouwlein"), it's not "Koln", and it's not "Herr Muller". I know your keyboards can't be expected to easily produce the special letters, but there's ASCII code, or ye goode olde copy&paste from a useful little file with the extra letters in it, if you think you need to pretend to use German words. And even if you can't do that: Germans use the nifty little "e" then to mark the Umlaut. "Fräulein" can be written "Fraeulein", "Köln" can be written "Koeln", "Herr Müller" can be written "Herr Mueller", etc.
You cannot, however, just drop the dots altogether. (There's actually a reason why they use the "e" of all letters, but that lies in the history of German writing, just like the reason for turning "sz" into "ß". But that would lead too far here).

Why?
Because in German (and, just so you see it's not just us Germans who're stupid like that, in Finnish, Turkish, the Pinyin transcription of Chinese, and a good lot of other languages, though some use other symbols), the dots actually indicate a change in pronunciation. It's like leaving the little hook out of the lovely French "ç". Yes, the hook is important. Otherwise, "ça" would be prounounced "ka", because a "c" followed by a dark vowel (a,o,u) is automatically pronounced "k" unless explicitly marked. - but I digress.

ä is not pronounced like the "pure" a (which the English language hardly knows anymore, although it comes close in cases like "far" or "darn"). It is pronounced pretty much like the a-sound in "man", though.
ö is not pronounced like a normal o. It's close to the "ur" in "purpose", or the "eu" in French "peuple", or the Old English "eo".
ü is not pronounced like a normal u, unless you're French and pronounce every u like an ü anyway. It's an "eeee" sound (/i:/) produced while your vocal apparatus is shaped all ready for an "oooo" (/u:/) sound. In Old English, Welsh and Sindarin, it's what's expected from you when you see a vocalic y.

You see, in some cases, these dots are actually important. "Lohnen" ("to be worth sth.") is not the same as "löhnen"/ "loehnen" ("to pay"). "Lauten" ("to sound" in the sense of "the new law sounds like this"; there isn't really an English equivalent, I think) isn't quite the same as "läuten"/"laeuten" ("to ring", as in "a bell rings"). ("au" is pronounced like the "ow" in "cow"; "äu" is pronounced like the "oy" in "boy"). There's also a small but important difference between "Plätzen"/ "Plaetzen" ("places") and "platzen" ("to burst")...
In some cases, it marks the difference between certain cases of a noun (e.g. the sing. dative of "foot", dem Fuße vs. the plural nominative, "feet", Füße/ Fuesse. By the way, note how this explains why the English plural of "foot" is "feet"!).


So. May I please ask at least you, my beloved friendlist, to henceforth go and spread enlightenment by no longer using "Fraulein" and no longer going to "Koln"? Please? Use the friendly little "e" if you don't want to look for the special characters (it's what Germans confined to using American keyboards do, too!). If someone tells you that's wrong, explain that they're sadly mistaken.
Also, learn that "Umlaut" and "diaeresis" are two different things. They both belong to the class of "diacritics", so if you just want to learn one important term, go for that. Will you do that? Please? Thanks.

Love,
The desperate anally retentive linguist

- - -
*Yes, the use of "hath" rather than "has" in combination with Fëanáro - and a consecutive linguistic rant! - was fully intentional, because I'm silly like that.

Which results in catbirthpicspam, of course.

You can see a tiny paw!
And now, an ear!
This is what Shakira has been doing pretty much all day: Cleaning the kitten.
Admire the tiny tail!
All this feeding business is a tad boring.
Hey! I could lick myself for a change!
Well hey there, little one!
There's more where that came from. [Rated PG13/R for naked cat breasts! [For the Americans in the audience.]]
Birthing is such hard work.
My second name is Adorable.
And here goes number 2
Wyrm!
Whee, something new to clean. [Special treat for those who can read the newspaper headline: It says '... like a lion'. *snerk*]
More wyrm!
Awwww, catkiss.
Dealing with the placenta...
A handful of cat (the firstborn)
And there's the whole (slightly uncoordinated) family

*adores*
I think there may be a third one coming, although there's nothing to be seen yet. But as there were 6 hours between #1 and #2, I guess it'll take a while until we can be sure it's just two...

And #1 keeps bullying #2. If he keeps doing that, I'll name him Fëanáro, whether Jörg wants it or not. Bah.
... even though I don't know whether it's a he or she, yet.

... I think the cat's in labour.

*panic*

ETA: ... yes indeed. She just cut No 1's umbilical cord.

ETA2: ... goodness, if No 1 isn't clean now, he/she'll never be. But it already knows how to drink.
*dies of ickle kitten cuteness*

Aaaand it's time for new catspam!

( Cut for photos. )

*cracks up*
The kitten is growling at the snowflakes. With head at ground-level and body all tensed, too. Cutest. Thing. Ever.
... now she gave me a dirty look for being amused by her hunting instincts. *snerk*

... why is the story I meant to spare for next NaNo attacking me with fully worded scenes now? I don't think I need another LoCreMo project, and besides, what am I supposed to write come November if I do it now? Stupid plotbunny.

- - -
( Wieso fährt man eigentlich 800km, wenn's vor der Haustür auch schneit? )
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