This, my friends is our little Mr. Hobbes. A few days after we got Lyla– Rhen walked through the door with this little imp–and oh–myyyyy…what fire cracker he is!
In fact, he wasn’t in the house 5 minutes before he—well, see for yourself.
He pounced on poor Lyla before she had a chance to introduce herself. I could just hear her mumbling, “How rude!” as she walked away from this uncultured ruffian.
All in all, I do believe these two l will be great friends. Someday in a year or two, Lyla– being 3/4 Maine Coon, will likely be much bigger than Hobbes. That seems like a dirty trick on the one hand. On the other–it might just even the score.
Either way, this little guy doesn’t seem too worried about it.
Welcome Mr. Hobbes. We sure do love you!
You know when you’ve always, ALWAYS had a little kitty in your life, how when all of a sudden there isn’t a kitty in your life, well…it’s a problem?
So, to ease my heart a bit, I went on an internet search to find the perfect little feline–assuming that it would take weeks, months even. But that’s not how the kitty fairies work. At least not that day.
My son saw the picture of this fluffy sweetheart and instead of saying, “You can’t take care of a kitten yet. Your foot is still in a cast,” he said, “Ohhhhh she’s cuuuute!”
The owner and I texted back and forth during the whole Christmas party. I was thinking if she could just hold her for me for a week, I’d have the cast off and be ready. But the owner said if we were serious, we’d have to come get her the very next day from Price, Utah– 75 miles away! If we couldn’t come, someone from Idaho wanted her. That was the deal.
She fussed and cried to get out of the crate the whole ride home, but I was too scared she’d scramble under the car seat if I let her out. I talked to her and sang to her and squished my fingers in the holes of the carrier.
When we finally got her home–she wouldn’t come out of the crate at all. She was too nervous to face the great big world. I had to reach in and get her.
Meet our sweet Lyla everyone. She is 3/4 Maine Coon and 1/4 Persian. Tiny and soft and dainty and gorgeous.
Welcome home baby. I hope you’re with us forever.
I woke up feeling pretty perky. Embarrassingly so. Apparently, I told the doctor all about my natural pain killing methods that involved piping a few layers of Frangipane under my knee cap to make it nice and cushy. Good. Grief. They should definitely muzzle a chick on pain meds. No question.
I couldn’t really see my knee because it was all wrapped and covered most of the time. So, there was nothing to do but to focus on the food. Haha. Believe it or not it was great.
They had me get up and stand real soon after I woke up, then walk over to a chair sit. It wasn’t painful but it was very scary. On day two a therapist came in and walked me all around the nurses station. Still being on medication from the original surgery made me think I was really brave and tough, but the nurses told me it would wear off soon and then I would feel it. So, I had Rhen put Frankincense on the bottoms of both feet–so I’d be ready for the sensations that were coming. I wasn’t sure if I needed to hide my “hippie oils” from the medical folks or not. Turns out that one came in and said, “Ahhhhh, frankincense! I LOVE that one!” So, I knew I was going to be fine.
When the feeling came back to my leg– it wasn’t any big deal AT all. The oil prepping was doing just what I’d hoped.
Yay! New knee!
We are off to Mountain View Hospital in Payson to replace knee #1.
Problem is…I don’t really do “hospitals.”
That’s it. Really.
Do I look apprehensive? I am.
Do I look nervous? I am.
Do I look…scared? I really, really am.
Excuse me while I channel my inner sturdy mountain woman.
I think she’s hiding under a rock.