Crazy Furballs

The Care Center where I work used to have tons of animals running around. Kittens have been born left and right in the field behind the building and we even had a dog for a short while. Sadly, the dog had to be re-homed since a couple of our residents were inappropriate with it. (The story behind that simple sentence would be a zinger of a blog entry, however I am trying to stay PG-13 or better as much as possible!!) There haven’t been many kitties running around lately either.

At least until this week.

Tuesday morning started out like any other. I arrived at work around 10:00 and prepared to do my training and paperwork. Part way through the afternoon a maintenance staff came into my office and asked me if I had any cat food.

Cat food??? !!!

Apparently, a mother cat had decided that the care center’s filthy, cluttered junk storage area was the perfect place to raise a litter of kittens. Beautiful, sweet-faced, longhaired kittens. Skittish, fearful, wild kittens!! Since I didn’t happen to have a stash of cat food in my desk (Why, oh WHY would I have a stash of cat food in my desk??) I ran over to the local grocery store and picked up a bag of Purina One. When I got back someone showed me the area where the kittens had last been spotted. I put some food in a bowl and set it down on the ground near a water dish. I stood there quietly for a few seconds and then made some kissy, meowing sounds. Seconds later a small white kitten peeked out from beneath a pile of old boards and wheelchair parts. SO CUTE! The white one was followed by a couple of grays and a black/tan blend. It was hard to tell their true colors since they were all covered with dust and grime. Of course they didn’t let us near them and a few of them hissed when some of my co-workers put their hands down near their space. I admired them for a few minutes and then returned to my desk.

DH called me a short while later and in the midst of our conversation I mentioned the kittens. Oh, bring one home with you!, he said. Enough gushing about animals has been done on this blog to convey that we have a full house here at the Haven. With the addition of Gus, we had, what we thought was a complete crew. No More Pets, I told my DH. Again, he said Oh, just bring one home with you. We need one more kitty! I jokingly told him that I’d go out to the storage area and if a kitten happened to jump into my lap I’d bring it home with me. I hung up the phone, wrapped up some paperwork and went out to the storage area one last time. There, sleeping on the ground in a huge pile were the kittens. It looked like there were four of them. As I approached, they heard me and scattered like farts in the wind. All except for one.

There, sitting on the ground looking a little lost as to where her littermates had gone, was a small gray and brown baby. I stood there in disbelief that she wasn’t running away and for a moment we just stared at each other. Then I reached down and scooped her up.

For the first few seconds I wasn’t sure what to expect. A co-worker had caught the white kitten earlier that day and it had tried to take a piece of her face off, it was so scared. When a few seconds passed with no major drama, I carried her over to the lawn and knelt down on the ground with her. A light breeze was blowing and after a few seconds she crawled up into my lap and snuggled herself into the folds of the hoodie I was wearing. I called DH again from my cell phone and told him what had happened and he again told me to bring it home! Being the softy that I am, I finally gave in with the stern warning that this was the LAST addition to our zoo.

AND I REALLY MEAN IT THIS TIME!!

The kitty was filthy and the ease with which I caught her had me slightly worried that she might be ill in some way. She was a tad smaller than the other kittens as well which added to my concerns. I placed her in a box and headed towards the pet store near my home to meet up with DH. The introductions in the parking lot were a Kodak moment. DH fell in love the moment he saw her. At the time we weren’t sure if it was a “her” or not but we suspected as much. We picked up some KMR (Kitten Milk Replacement formula) as well as a bottle and a few cans of wet kitten food. We also purchased shampoo foam. The kind that you rub in and wipe away with a cloth; no water required. Then we headed home.

It took three foam scrubs before the black stopped coming off of her and it was a chore keeping her away from our other pets. Ya never know what kind of bugs she might have had, ya know? She took to the bottle faster than I expected she would, which was pleasing. DH acted like a little mother as he fluttered around the house looking for a soft towel for her bed and making sure we had a heating pad handy to keep her warm. To be honest, I didn’t let myself get too attached the first night since I wasn’t sure that she was healthy and I wanted to avoid heart-break if she didn’t survive long.

Wednesday morning was my early day at work so I was in the car and on my way by 7:00. The vet office at the pet store opened at 9:00 and DH was waiting at the doors as they unlocked them. After a quick check-up they announced that she was, indeed, a she and that she was in good health. They gave her a dose of worm medicine for precautionary measures and said that we were feeding her the appropriate amounts of the correct food. It was a relief to know that she was doing A-Okay. DH brought her over to the care center to visit when he was done at the vet’s office. Everyone “ooohed and aaahhed” over her and said how lucky she was to have us, which was a comfort to me since I was thinking we might just be crazy to add another pet to the mix. After much debate and pondering, DH named her Fluffy. I suspect he chose that name to please me since I had a cat with that name when I was a child. It fits her though and that makes me happy.

Fluffy has adjusted amazingly well in the two days that we’ve had her. She loves her bottle and is even eating some of the wet kitten food as well. Gus and Shelly are sweet with her and she follows them around when she’s on the floor. We have to monitor Gus a tad since he’s full of puppy energy and we don’t want him to sit on her. Chloe, the Weiner, is the most enthusiastic about the kitten, however I’m not sure if she wants to get her paws on her for a bath of kisses or if she plans to have a snack so we’ve kept her at a distance. The two cats, Gizmo and Basil, are still coping with the idea of a newcomer. Gizmo hisses and runs when he sees her and Basil just avoids getting too close since he doesn’t know what the heck is going on with her. I’m sure they’ll all be sleeping in a fur pile in no time.

In any case, she’s settling in and doesn’t show any signs of being wild. It’s nice to know that she’s not ill and that her docile attitude when I found her was due to her sweet disposition and not a medical issue.

My parents are going to freak when they find out what we’ve done. Oh, the joys and freedoms of owning our own home. Weeeee!!

Ms.B

Bampoo

Shortly after my arrival at work this morning, a co-worker shared a story she had heard on news radio. It is a fact that panda bears eat a lot of bamboo. Apparently, they eat so much bamboo that their poop is chock full of the stuff. According to the news anchors, people who live in the regions where panda bears are like to gather up the panda droppings and recycle it into paper! Can you imagine!?

So if ever you receive a letter from someone and it smells like doo-doo, just imagine--- it probably is!

Ms.B

If only I could Sympathize

One of my titles at the care center is that of Human Resource Manager. For the past two years I’ve struggled to hire people and get all the shifts fully staffed. Although there has been minor success at times, I’ve made the following observation: Swing Shift wants to be short-handed. Less than 5 minutes ago the supervisor of that very shift was standing outside of my office door complaining that there were only 4 staff working today. (Normally there are 11). It took every ounce of my self-control to keep from sticking my head out the door and telling the poor supervisor that if she would stop creating cliques within her shift and treated the people who were hired like human beings she might not be short-handed. If I were to count the number of people hired for Swing during the past two years, the averages would look something like this:

# of new staff hired: 10

# of staff who quit the first week after being treated poorly: 3

# of staff who quit after the first month because of being left out of the cliques: 2

# of staff who changed to another shift: 4

# of staff who actually stayed on Swing Shift: 1

There might be some times where they averaged TWO people staying on the shift, however it is rare enough that I hardly dare mention it. The supervisor has been talked to about treating the new peeps well on numerous occasions with no success. I understand that there are going to be staff hired who are genetically programmed to be flaky and not succeed in the work place. But the percentage of failure on this particular shift is just overwhelmingly horrible. I’ve personally seen Swing Shifters snap at new employees, as well as people helping out from other shifts/departments. I’ve heard the rumors and lies that spread through a building when they, the Swing Shift Regulars, decided they didn’t like the cut of the new guy’s jibe.

Can anyone else please explain to me why it is that this occurs? Why? Oh, WHY!?!? I am starting to think I work with morons. I wonder what that says about me.

Ms.B

I love my Brother

Parents have it rough

It’s hard to watch someone with lots of potential throw their life away. The emotions experienced as I see it happen make my chest ache and I feel a mixture of anger/confusion/concern all rolled up into one. And I’m just the sister!

My brother, J, grew up in a comfortable household with two loving supportive parents in a suburban neighborhood. He’s tall, slender, handsome and outgoing. He went to good schools, wore nice clothes and over-all had the life that some kids would only dream about. Wonderful, well-developed adults have come from less.

Yet, somehow, he has become a loser. I cringe to even use the term but it’s the only one that fits. He’s going to be 22 this fall and just made his second attempt at moving out of my parent’s home. The first try lasted about a month and a half, right up until his roommates and he were evicted for not paying their landlord. J insists that he gave the roomies money towards the bills and that they must have used it for things other than rent. This time around, J has already moved twice. First he moved into a basement semi-apartment for about a week with some girl he knows which didn’t last long after the landlord there became angry and threatened to beat J up when he was told that his renters were moving out. Now they have re-located to a condo owned by the parents of another friend, who will be living there with them. The second location is much nicer than the first, and the friend who’s parents are renting it out happens to be a guy with actual ambition and a real job.

I pray that this friend will be a good influence on my brother. As stupid as the things he does are, I love him unconditionally. I must add that it is okay for me to call my brother a loser, but if anyone else did I might have to kick his or her ass!

(Insert picture of me attempting to flex wimpy arm muscle here).

J has never had a real job. His first paycheck came from Jamba Juice. He started out gung ho and really impressed his managers there. They swiftly promoted him to trainer, and then to a supervisor. A few months later, he was working during a huge snowstorm and J decided that since there hadn’t been any customers for a while he would make the decision to lock up the store and leave for the day. Big mistake!! He got canned.

Second job was at my care center. Again, after the honeymoon period was over, he flaked out, eventually stopped showing up for his shifts and was marked non-rehireable. The supervisor at the time was an idiot (SHOCKER, it was NOT Mr. PBM at that point!!) and some folks understood why J would leave.

Third job was at the post office. It is hard to get a job at the post office. You have to be in the right place at the right time or know someone who knows someone. Government jobs pay really well and have great benefits so they are in high demand. In any case, J was told that he needed to study some detailed information in order to pass a test that would allow him to continue to work. Instead of studying, he partied, drank and smoked his evenings away, eventually failing the test and leading to… you guessed it: getting fired.

Job #4 was at Target. He started with lots of promise eventually being promoted to a managerial position after a couple of months. One of his duties was to re-mark sale prices on opened/returned items. A customer happened to return an I-Pod that had been removed from its package. J decided that it would be a good idea to mark it as $3 and buy it himself. Kewl idea! An I-Pod for $3. No, no NO. BAD IDEA. His boss found out, fired J and pressed charges. J pleaded no contest and now has a theft on his permanent record.

A few short-lived jobs later he started working at Village Inn. He is actually still there (at this point, but who knows what tomorrow brings…) but he wasn’t making enough money to pay off his debts and keep paying for his car. Because of that he needed a second job so my care center gave him a second chance. He came back and started slacking a bit but the supervisor wrote him up a couple of times and got him to toe the line. Eventually potential advancement at Village Inn made him decide to put in his two-week notice here. Good for him to finally try to leave a job on terms that would allow him to list it on a resume or work history. Wrong. He stopped showing up three days after he gave notice. I’ve told the supervisor, Mr. PBM, that he’ll have to list him as non-rehireable.

I guess it all boils down to the fact that I am very disappointed in my brother. The position of Dietary Manager could come available in the near future if Mr. PBM doesn’t pull his head out of his ass. J would have been the likely one to be offered that position. He’s made numerous comments about being envious of the people he grew up with that have good-paying jobs and have purchased homes. J’s dream has always been to have a job where he could make enough money for his apartment, car and bills without having to have a second job. The money he could have earned in that position would have been the answer to his dreams. Instead, he’ll continue to avoid going to college, jump from job to job, and continue to watch the kids he went to high school with grow up and have real careers.

And THAT, is why my brother is a loser. But I love him.

Ms.B

I'm no Gryffindor

Which Hogwarts house will you be sorted into?

I was:
Hufflepuff- 13
Ravenclaw- 12
Slytherin- 10
Gryffindor- 8

Harry Potter would be ashamed! Perhaps my desire for revenge is what landed me where I did.

*shrug*

Ms.B

Damn Dogs

It's safe to say that I am an animal lover. If it's cute, cuddly, or in any way adorable I want to bring it home and keep it forever. That said, I have something to share.

Ms.B's Deep Dark Confession #3: I hate the damn dogs next door!

About three months after we bought the Haven, the family who had been renting the home next door moved away and the property was vacant for a few months. Recently a new group of people moved in. So far I've counted four adults, 6-8 children, 4 dogs and a partridge in a pear tree. A nice bunch, so it seems, except that the dogs are left outside all day and all night with no shelter and minimal interaction. The Shih Tzu barked non-stop the first two days but has mellowed out a bit since then. The three pit-bull terriers are wild! One seems friendly (though I've not stuck my arm through the gaps in the fence to test this theory!!). The other two pits are semi-aggressive. When they see the monkey and the wiener in the back yard they lunge at the fence in an attempt to get to them. This wouldn't be a problem except that the back fence is one of the few projects around our home that need some attention. The boards are brittle and hanging on to the cross-beams by the skin of their teeth. A solid thud by a muscular dog pops them like a cork from a wine bottle.

*POP* goes a board.
*FIZZ* goes my temper.

So a project that I thought could be ignored until mid-summer is suddenly an issue that must be addressed immediately. Damn dogs! The sad thing is that we aren't sure who owns the house next door so we can't approach them to see if they'll pay for half the cost of new fencing. Chances are that they'd avoid doing it since they aren't there to enjoy it themselves anyhow. The plus side is that we can now just put up fresh slats on our side and not worry about what their side looks like. *insert evil laughter here*

I guess in the big scheme of things its not a big deal to repair everything a little early. We'll be able to enjoy the finished product for more of the warm season this way and there will be no fear of sending three dogs out for a potty break only to find a fat, satiated pit-bull, licking his chops, waiting for me when I go to call them back in.

And once the fence is done there shouldn't be any major expenses in the near future of our home. *knock on wood* At least not the kind that can be planned.

Damn Dogs.

Saturday Adventures

At first glance today seemed as if it would be a typical Saturday. I spent a few hours at work monitoring some rehab issues with the residents. I took the DH and the monkey with me so that we could could head right to puppy class at the end of the shift. Monkey went around the building and greeted everyone with his typical "kisses and love" style which made me proud. Growing up with an anti-social dog made me appreciative of a pet that is willing to bound into a total stranger's arms with little hesitation-- provided the fore-mentioned stranger is prepared to have a puppy bound into their arms, of course.

Puppy Class went well. I've gushed about it on this blog before so I'll contain myself a tad. Being the proud mamma, however, it must be stated that the monkey is the smartest little pooch I've ever owned. He sits, lays down, shakes a paw, Sneaks(crawls) and is now learning "roll over". *sigh* What fun we've had in that class. Next week is graduation. Not sure if we'll be signing up for the Intermediate Level.

After dropping Gus off at home, we next headed to the local hardware store to order the carpet for our basement and pick up some supplies for fixing the fence. This year's tax returns are being put to great use. The nasty, stinky brown carpet in the basement is going far, far away. It will be replaced by a nice Berber carpet called "Caramel". It's light enough that the basement will feel bright, but has enough color and pattern to hide a multitude of sins. PERFECT for a family full of animals, myself included.

The real adventure began when we arrived home after our shopping spree. Somehow, the pipe where all the water and sewage exits our home has become clogged and all our waste and water is now overflowing into our laundry room.

EWWWWWW!!

Not sure what happened, but we've narrowed the location of the plug down to a small area and my Daddy is coming tomorrow afternoon to save the day with his handy-dandy snake tool. At least, that is the plan. All fingers are crossed that a plumber won't have to be called since that could cost a pretty penny and we spent all the pretties we had on the carpet that will be installed in a couple of weeks. Oye!

Fortunately, we've discovered that if we avoid flushing toilets and running sink water, nothing pours from the pipe. We should be able to survive until tomorrow without those things though we'll have to miss church. I can't go without a shower and I'll be !@#$%#ed if I'm gonna rinse off with the garden hose in order to get cleaned up to go. What a great excuse for playing hooky! Ha.

We can stay home and work on the back fence instead.

Ms.B

Attack of the Killer Worms

Every once in a while a co-worker of mine comes up with some pretty entertaining stuff. Of course, the best part is that she acts sincere when she says it. Today, as we were discussing health issues in general (which is common considering our line of work) the topic of worms came up. Parasitic worms. With complete sincerity in her voice she informed me that everyone has worms.

"Tapeworms. We all have them! Round worms. They are in our bellies! Every person on the planet has em. You have worms, I have worms. We all have worms!"

I tried to explain to her that people with tapeworms and roundworm must go through special treatment to cure them and that if we all had those specific types of worms we'd all be on medicine. She didn't buy it.

"It's true. We all have worms. If you do a colon cleanse you'll shit a load of worms!"

O.o

Eventually the subject fizzled out and changed. But it made ponder: I know that we have bacteria and dust mites and all sorts of critters hanging out on us. But are there really sane people out there that believe we are walking around just chalk full of worms? Eeeewww!

Hrmm...

As soon as I had hung up with the credit card company this morning I called my DH to update him on the latest Michelle adventure. Shortly after I arrived at work he e-mailed me a link with all the local Michelle Mitchells on it, including addresses and phone numbers. As tempted as I am to really contact her I'm suddenly totally chicken! What do I say? "Hello. I have your old phone number and I just wanted to give you your messages for the last couple of years."

???

I'll sit here and plug away at my work and see if I can work up the nerve to call someone out of the blue like that. HA! Wouldn't she be surprised.

Someone's credit card isn't going to work for long...

*ring ring*

Ms.B: Hello?

Automated System: Hello. This is Discover Financial's Fraud Prevention department. Please stay on the line and a representative will be with you shortly.

Ms.B thinks: ... What the hell? I'm on hold? You called ME!

Automated System: Hello. This is Discover Financial's Fraud Prevention department. Please stay on the line and a representative will be with you shortly. (message begins to repeat over and over...)

Ms.B thinks: ... Wait, did they say fraud prevention?? Oh no! Someone has stolen my information and gone on a binge! I'll kill them. What is going on here?

Operator: Hi, this is Tammy. Can I please speak to Michelle Mitchell?

Ms.B thinks: MICHELLE? !! ??!@#$!@*!
Ms.B SAYS: My name isn't Michelle and I've had this phone for almost two years. Sorry.

Operator: I'm sorry. I'll take this number off the account.

*****

Odd. I'm normally rather annoyed at this point when Michelle's people call me. Today I just feel sad for her. Even her credit card company doesn't have her current phone number. I suppose she'll receive a wake-up call when she tries to make a purchase with her Discover Card in the near future and it has been deactivated to prevent further fraud. Ya know, now that I have her last name I should just search for her new number online, ring her and say: "Girl, your credit is about to bite the bullet. Contact Discover Card a.s.a.p. Oh, and by the way, call your mother!"


Ms.B

Glum weather, glum mood...

The annual February Cold that sweeps through work, wreaking havoc, making eyes puffy and voices gruff claimed a new victim this year. ME! Normally I have the stamina and immune system savy to avoid this nasty bugger. Do I get sick? Yes. But every other year I have managed to avoid this particular pain in the @$$. That it hit me the very week I began a second job is just kissmet. Luckily I managed to drag myself into both jobs with my "happy face" on and didn't let on how achey and tired I was. My voice managed to hang on until the weekend really began so all is well.

The rain that fell on Saturday and Sunday was a perfect reflection of how I was feeling. There were so many projects on the "to do" list this weekend. Little things that would tie up the last loose ends on some of the remodeling. Small starts for preparing for the next few rooms that need to be done. None of it was accomplished. Instead, I spent my time in my jammies laying in bed, sleeping soundly on my drooly pillow. When I did have energy I sat in my office chair at the computer, staring at the screen like a zombie. NeoPets was my entertainment. I must have been running around playing games for hours and I still haven't figured out how to get past level 1. Pretty sad considering that you can get all the way to level 250!

And now it is Monday. I'm at work and doing well, all things considered. I'll make it through the day, drive home, and have a personal "Poor Me" pity party (complete with icecream). By this time next week all my dreary thoughts and emotions will be forgotten.

I'm not a firm believer that time heals ALL wounds, but I know for a fact that it erases memories of pity parties.

Ms.B

I feel so... wanted

One of the many duties in my position at work includes being an Aide to the Speech Pathologist who works with our residents. There is no shiney frame holding a Speech Pathology diploma on my wall, rather my role is acting as the eyes and ears of the professional. Conveniently enough, my consultant also works at a nearby facility that is very similar to ours and this facility is always visited by the State Survey team prior to our own yearly survey.

This year, there was a lot of focus on dietary issues which is one of the areas that I, the Speech Aide, monitor. Both of our facilities have been doing a good job of ensuring that each resident is on the most appropriate texture of food. The issue that state has is that we need to be checking the residents on a regular basis to make sure that someone who has puree-textured food isn't able to eat ground food just as easily. The goal is that everyone be on the least restrictive diet possible. It's understandable that we should monitor this. When I am an 90 year old granny is a nursing home some day they better not be giving me mooshed up shit to eat if I am capable of gumming up regular food just fine. ACK!

My consultant has an easy "fix" for state's problem. We just have to document our efforts. In a matter of minutes, I created a form that we are now using for data collection on recent barrium swallow studies, doctor recommendations, and staff observations. If all goes well, the members of the survey team will think we are grand and we'll avoid being written out on that issue. The form I made is rather convenient. So convenient, in fact, that my consultant wanted a copy to use at the other facility as well.

During our meeting yesterday, she mentioned needing some assistance at that facility due to the staff there being slightly less than helpful. (Those are my nice words, she was less appreciative of them though she remained completely professional in her demeanor as we spoke.) She asked if I would be interested in a second job over there. I admitted that the money might be really useful since we are wanting to do some additional re-modeling to the Haven in the near future. The idea of being able to easily afford to re-carpet the small bedroom and basement Hallway is very appealing to me. The fence around the back-yard also needs some attention in the near future. Perhaps this other job could be very beneficial. So I told my consultant, (I'll call her Mrs. Rich), that I might be interested and to let me know exactly what would be expected of me. I anticipated that she would fill me in at our meeting the following week.

No sooner had I sat down at my desk this morning when I received a phone call from Mrs. Rich telling me all about the hours expected and what I'd need to do. She asked if I could call the administrator of the other facility and arrange to start as soon as possible.

!!! ??? AHHH!

I asked Mrs. Rich for the phone number and told her I'd be in touch. I've not called yet, but I did phone DH and ask him if he thought it was a good idea. A second job isn't a smart move if you don't have the support of your spouse. The mention of extra cash for the carpet and fence seemed a good temptation for him as well and since he sleeps during the day and the second job would also provide extra snoozing for him before I arrived home each evening, I suppose it wasn't too hard to twist his arm. I am now procrastinating the call and blogging instead. It's not that I don't want the job. It's a great opportunity. I just want to be sure I'm not losing my marbles. Am I too lazy to work a 10 hour day multiple times a week? I have friends who work 16 hours, 6 days a week, or more. Of course, they are insane so I hate to compare myself to them.

What the heck, why not go for it? I can always quit if it becomes too much. I just need to be sure to talk to my boss here so he doesn't find out I'm working at the other place through the grapevine. I am not sure why, but the two buildings are very competitive and Mrs. Rich told me that there is a good chance that the other place is most likely going to try to steal me. I can't imagine them matching what I make at my wonderful job, and even if they did, I have been here long enough that I earn quite a bit of vacation a year and as a management staff, I also have perks with regards to sick pay. I must make sure my boss knows where my loyalties lie.

And then I'll sit back and enjoy the attempts of the other administrator. It's always nice to feel wanted. Now where the hell did I put that phone number?


Ms.B