It's no secret that mandatory maternity and paternity leave is a big deal in the US, at least if you listen to the political debates. I believe that Moms and Dads should be able to not only bond with their child at birth, but should be able to take them to dentist appointments and the doctor without having to sacrifice pay.
As a lifelong unmarried, childless woman, I've often been the one that worked the holidays so that others could spend time with their family. I can work after hours and on weekends when others need to take care of their kiddos. And that's okay with me - I don't begrudge folks with families; I'm happier without.
But when I have to take my cherished cat to the Vet, or need to bond with my new adopted kitten, or am grieving the loss of my pet, I want the same consideration as the Mom of a human. "It's not like it's a human being" is not a welcome phrase. My cats are more important to me than most humans; just like you, I celebrate their achievements, smile with delight over the cute things they do, and sigh with frustration when they break stuff (and they break a lot of stuff).
The United Kingdom has mandatory paid maternity and paternity leave. And almost 1 in 20 pet owners also get a benefit known as Paw-ternity leave. It ranges from a few hours to three weeks paid leave. New Zealand is also offering this benefit in many companies.
What do you think? Are we the new minority? Let's march on Washington and demand our crazy cat lady rights!
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
Wednesday, May 4, 2016
Cat People Are Smarter Than Dog People, New Study Shows
SAN FRANCISCO — "Dog people" and "cat people" really do have different personalities, according to a new study.
Source: Cat People Are Smarter Than Dog People, New Study Shows
Tuesday, May 3, 2016
Working as Designed
The term Working as Designed, or WAD for short, is a much-hated term in the software business. When a customer finds a feature missing and they're told it's WAD, they scream and rail against the system. Working as Designed has become the equivelent of Poor Design.
In real-life terms, we're all working as designed. And when we're designed with a body that's too fat, too skinny, too short, too tall, too anything, we don't like it anymore than a software customer. "I hate my fat thighs!" "I wish I was taller!" "Why can't I run a 5k in 30 minutes?"
In the software world, if a customer wants to change something, they open a Change Request, or CR with new requirements. We'll look at it, ask questions if we don't understand, and then have our developers estimate it. In real life, if you want to change something, you do something similar. You figure out what you want to change, and take the steps necessary to get to what you want.
And sometimes in both worlds, you might get one of the following answers:
And when I get either of the answers above, my inclination is to stomp my feet and whine "life is so unfair!". Even so, I work pretty darn well as designed, with a 66% up time (the rest of the time is spent in nightly maintenance), a strong frame (hardware) that allows me to do anything I want to do with just a little effort, and a mind (software) that lets me dream of the future.
In real-life terms, we're all working as designed. And when we're designed with a body that's too fat, too skinny, too short, too tall, too anything, we don't like it anymore than a software customer. "I hate my fat thighs!" "I wish I was taller!" "Why can't I run a 5k in 30 minutes?"
In the software world, if a customer wants to change something, they open a Change Request, or CR with new requirements. We'll look at it, ask questions if we don't understand, and then have our developers estimate it. In real life, if you want to change something, you do something similar. You figure out what you want to change, and take the steps necessary to get to what you want.
And sometimes in both worlds, you might get one of the following answers:
- You can do it, but it will cost you, either in time, money, or changing what you do today (I want to lose weight; I can do that by eating right and exercising (changing process), or I can pay a surgeon for a tummy tuck.)
- It can't be done. The product was built in a way that the desired change cannot be made. At least not now. Future technology might make it possible (I'd like to be a little taller please, and by the way, I'd like my Mom and Dad back).
And when I get either of the answers above, my inclination is to stomp my feet and whine "life is so unfair!". Even so, I work pretty darn well as designed, with a 66% up time (the rest of the time is spent in nightly maintenance), a strong frame (hardware) that allows me to do anything I want to do with just a little effort, and a mind (software) that lets me dream of the future.
Monday, May 2, 2016
Why Your Cat Scratches Everything In Sight
No, she's not preparing to eat you.
And no, I don't think you should declaw your cat.
Source: Why Your Cat Scratches Everything In Sight
Thursday, April 28, 2016
Bonnets and Bowties
Saturday, May 7th, is the 142nd "greatest two minutes in sports", also known as the Kentucky Derby. Women wear their finest hats (the bigger the better), and men dress in their finest spring attire. Mint Juleps are the drink of the day, and everyone cheers for their favorite horse to win.
The Speak Easy in Detroit Lakes is planning to celebrate in a big way, with southern specialities such as fried chicken and biscuits with honey butter, pecan pie, and of course Mint Juleps to wash it all down with. And even better, it's a fundraiser for my favorite place, The Marshmallow Foundation, a local animal shelter for dogs and cats. A $25 ticket gets you in to watch the Derby on the biggest screen in town, plus there will be all sorts of raffles, and silent auctions to bid on. And of course, there's a prize for the best bonnet and the best bowtie!
As a preview, Michael Mercil, owner of the Speak Easy, invited us to his home, where Lakes TV3 filmed his cooking show, The Easy Gourmet. Our episode will run all week starting Monday, and if you don't get Lakes TV3, you can watch the episode online. We wore our bonnets to mark the occasion, and had a blast filming the show. The best part? We got to eat the food after filming stopped!
So if you're in the Lakes area May 7th, why not combine a good time with a good cause? Let's all enjoy the Kentucky Derby lakes style!
The Speak Easy in Detroit Lakes is planning to celebrate in a big way, with southern specialities such as fried chicken and biscuits with honey butter, pecan pie, and of course Mint Juleps to wash it all down with. And even better, it's a fundraiser for my favorite place, The Marshmallow Foundation, a local animal shelter for dogs and cats. A $25 ticket gets you in to watch the Derby on the biggest screen in town, plus there will be all sorts of raffles, and silent auctions to bid on. And of course, there's a prize for the best bonnet and the best bowtie!
As a preview, Michael Mercil, owner of the Speak Easy, invited us to his home, where Lakes TV3 filmed his cooking show, The Easy Gourmet. Our episode will run all week starting Monday, and if you don't get Lakes TV3, you can watch the episode online. We wore our bonnets to mark the occasion, and had a blast filming the show. The best part? We got to eat the food after filming stopped!
So if you're in the Lakes area May 7th, why not combine a good time with a good cause? Let's all enjoy the Kentucky Derby lakes style!
Saturday, March 19, 2016
So You Think You're Not a Socialist
Socialism is a term that has come up more in the past few months because we have a self-proclaimed democratic socialist running for president. You say you don't believe in socialism? Okay then.
Your kids can no longer go to a public school. We taxpayers pay for that privilege even when we don't have kids of our own.
Forget about calling 911. I've never had to call the police for help, and my house hasn't burned, yet I pay my taxes to ensure that you're safe.
And speaking of being safe, who do you think pays the salaries of our men and women in the armed service? 25% of my taxes do. And I gladly pay for their benefits after they leave the service too.
Wanna mail a letter, or get packages delivered right to your mailbox? I guess you could count on UPS or FEDEX from now on, but the US Postal Service is taxpayer funded.
Socialism isn't facism. It's not communism. It's a concept that we've already embraced where we all pitch in a portion of what we have to ensure that the entire community is educated, safe, and well fed, whether they paid or not.
Oh yeah. In case you want to leave the country to avoid socialism, better not use a road. We paid for those too.
Your kids can no longer go to a public school. We taxpayers pay for that privilege even when we don't have kids of our own.
Forget about calling 911. I've never had to call the police for help, and my house hasn't burned, yet I pay my taxes to ensure that you're safe.
And speaking of being safe, who do you think pays the salaries of our men and women in the armed service? 25% of my taxes do. And I gladly pay for their benefits after they leave the service too.
Wanna mail a letter, or get packages delivered right to your mailbox? I guess you could count on UPS or FEDEX from now on, but the US Postal Service is taxpayer funded.
Socialism isn't facism. It's not communism. It's a concept that we've already embraced where we all pitch in a portion of what we have to ensure that the entire community is educated, safe, and well fed, whether they paid or not.
Oh yeah. In case you want to leave the country to avoid socialism, better not use a road. We paid for those too.
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
Saying Goodbye
Meep died yesterday. I get a little sappy and say that she crossed the rainbow bridge, because I love the prose of the same name. And, just like I have for every other cat that has passed on before her, I tell her story so I don't forget.
Meep was found wandering the streets of Detroit Lakes, MN alone and too young to be weaned. The woman who found her brought her to The Marshmallow Foundation because her teenage daughter worked there on the weekends in the cat room. The shelter was overflowing at the time. There's room for about 65 cats, and there were about 80 awaiting adoption, so Meep went into a kennel with 4 or 5 other kittens.
My first day at the shelter was orientation day. I noticed a kitten that looked sick, with a runny nose, and an eye that was clouded over. The shelter director told me that this was Meep, and she had lost the sight in one eye because of a respiratory infection, something all too common in shelters.
For several weekends volunteering, I spent hours cleaning cages and feeding cats. There was little time to anything but pull the cats out of the cage, remove their bedding, change their water, bleach, rinse, repeat. But Meep was already the darling amongst the crew, and several employees expressed interest in adopting her. I even made a video of her at the shelter just because she was so darn cute. Teeny tiny, she still managed to stand her own with cats 10 times her size.
The next weekend, she was gone, and I was secretly disappointed. Then I learned that she had gone to a foster home until she could be adopted. She continued to get sick, and living in a shelter wasn't safe for her or for the other cats. I made my intention to adopt her known, and as soon as I moved into my new home, I arranged for her foster mom to bring her to me. Turns out her foster mom is my next door neighbor, on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere!
2.8 pounds. That's how much she weighed when I got her. And she had gained weight during her stay in foster care; she was just a tiny thing.
About 10 days after she came to live with me, she got sick again. More antibiotics, with a dire prognosis. But she bounced back. I had the joy of watching her play for the first time, and run through the house chasing her brother and sister. And then I'd look down to see her at my feet, wanting to be picked up and held. Always on her back. She loved being rocked, and when she reached 4 pounds, I danced with her in the kitchen.
But always, she'd get sick. Soon it was every day, for hours at a time. She would breathe fast and loud, and no amount of shower steam seemed to help. More antibiotics, steroids, until she was on 4 different medications a day. Still, she would have periods during the day when she could breathe, and though she didn't play anymore, she still loved to be held.
Yesterday was like any other. Her breathing was noisy; had been all night. She jumped into my lap while I was working, and was content. Suddenly she leaped straight up and raced out of the room. By the time I got to her she was having a full blown seizure. I put her in a quiet place and called the vet. "Come on in", they said.
She had another seizure on the way there, and a third while with the vet. At that point, my vet said that her best chance was to take her to Minneapolis, where they had specialists and equipment like MRI machines. I left with her immediately for the 4 hour drive. By the time we reached the clinic, she had had 9 seizures, and had a 10th as soon as they got her. They gave her valium, hooked up an IV, and the doctor met with me.
She had the records, she said, but wanted to hear her history from me from the beginning. Then she gently started to tell me what the options were, and what the possible prognosis was. I said, "is it FIP?"
Startled that I would know what that was, she said yes, I really think it is. FIP is almost impossible to diagnose; it's a diagnosis of exclusion. So Meepers had already been tested for everything under the sun, with negative results.
FIP is always fatal. Always.
So I could keep her overnight at the hospital, let them run the same tests she'd already had, then go to another specialist for an MRI to check her brain, but if it wasn't FIP, it was something equally as deadly. So, the day I knew was coming since the day I adopted her had at long last arrived. They brought her to me wrapped in a blanket, sleepy from the valium, and obviously traumatized from a day of seizure after seizure.
. I held her as she fell asleep and said my final goodbyes. The doctor asked if I wanted more time with her; she herself spent two hours holding her dead cat after being put to sleep, so she knew what I was going through.
I was ready. Meep was already asleep, and as the doctor pushed the syringe full of pink fluid into her IV, just like that, she took her last breath.
After she was gone, the Vet Tech got her paw prints for me to take home.
This morning, I baked the clay with the paw prints, and set it on the kitchen table. When I came out of my office, Maggie, my other girl cat, was sleeping in the middle of the table next to the prints. I've never known her to sleep there, but it made me smile.
And this afternoon I noticed the picture on my cat of the day calendar bore a striking resemblance to Meep, but healthy. I guess it was her way to let me know that she was home, and happy, and healthy.
Meep was found wandering the streets of Detroit Lakes, MN alone and too young to be weaned. The woman who found her brought her to The Marshmallow Foundation because her teenage daughter worked there on the weekends in the cat room. The shelter was overflowing at the time. There's room for about 65 cats, and there were about 80 awaiting adoption, so Meep went into a kennel with 4 or 5 other kittens.
My first day at the shelter was orientation day. I noticed a kitten that looked sick, with a runny nose, and an eye that was clouded over. The shelter director told me that this was Meep, and she had lost the sight in one eye because of a respiratory infection, something all too common in shelters.
For several weekends volunteering, I spent hours cleaning cages and feeding cats. There was little time to anything but pull the cats out of the cage, remove their bedding, change their water, bleach, rinse, repeat. But Meep was already the darling amongst the crew, and several employees expressed interest in adopting her. I even made a video of her at the shelter just because she was so darn cute. Teeny tiny, she still managed to stand her own with cats 10 times her size.
The next weekend, she was gone, and I was secretly disappointed. Then I learned that she had gone to a foster home until she could be adopted. She continued to get sick, and living in a shelter wasn't safe for her or for the other cats. I made my intention to adopt her known, and as soon as I moved into my new home, I arranged for her foster mom to bring her to me. Turns out her foster mom is my next door neighbor, on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere!
2.8 pounds. That's how much she weighed when I got her. And she had gained weight during her stay in foster care; she was just a tiny thing.
About 10 days after she came to live with me, she got sick again. More antibiotics, with a dire prognosis. But she bounced back. I had the joy of watching her play for the first time, and run through the house chasing her brother and sister. And then I'd look down to see her at my feet, wanting to be picked up and held. Always on her back. She loved being rocked, and when she reached 4 pounds, I danced with her in the kitchen.
But always, she'd get sick. Soon it was every day, for hours at a time. She would breathe fast and loud, and no amount of shower steam seemed to help. More antibiotics, steroids, until she was on 4 different medications a day. Still, she would have periods during the day when she could breathe, and though she didn't play anymore, she still loved to be held.
Yesterday was like any other. Her breathing was noisy; had been all night. She jumped into my lap while I was working, and was content. Suddenly she leaped straight up and raced out of the room. By the time I got to her she was having a full blown seizure. I put her in a quiet place and called the vet. "Come on in", they said.
She had another seizure on the way there, and a third while with the vet. At that point, my vet said that her best chance was to take her to Minneapolis, where they had specialists and equipment like MRI machines. I left with her immediately for the 4 hour drive. By the time we reached the clinic, she had had 9 seizures, and had a 10th as soon as they got her. They gave her valium, hooked up an IV, and the doctor met with me.
She had the records, she said, but wanted to hear her history from me from the beginning. Then she gently started to tell me what the options were, and what the possible prognosis was. I said, "is it FIP?"
Startled that I would know what that was, she said yes, I really think it is. FIP is almost impossible to diagnose; it's a diagnosis of exclusion. So Meepers had already been tested for everything under the sun, with negative results.
FIP is always fatal. Always.
So I could keep her overnight at the hospital, let them run the same tests she'd already had, then go to another specialist for an MRI to check her brain, but if it wasn't FIP, it was something equally as deadly. So, the day I knew was coming since the day I adopted her had at long last arrived. They brought her to me wrapped in a blanket, sleepy from the valium, and obviously traumatized from a day of seizure after seizure.
. I held her as she fell asleep and said my final goodbyes. The doctor asked if I wanted more time with her; she herself spent two hours holding her dead cat after being put to sleep, so she knew what I was going through.I was ready. Meep was already asleep, and as the doctor pushed the syringe full of pink fluid into her IV, just like that, she took her last breath.
After she was gone, the Vet Tech got her paw prints for me to take home.
This morning, I baked the clay with the paw prints, and set it on the kitchen table. When I came out of my office, Maggie, my other girl cat, was sleeping in the middle of the table next to the prints. I've never known her to sleep there, but it made me smile.
And this afternoon I noticed the picture on my cat of the day calendar bore a striking resemblance to Meep, but healthy. I guess it was her way to let me know that she was home, and happy, and healthy.
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge.
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together.
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....
Author unknown...
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