dclarion: (Default)
Some background information for those who might not know:

Weasel is Winston's Special Friend. Winston and Weasel have had a Meaningful Relationship for, perhaps, seven of Winston's nine years.
For virtually all of her life, Miranda has been She Who Hates Everything That Is Not Miranda (with the possible exception of my lap).

Today, I saw something that floored me. Winston was out of The Studio, doing Winston Things™. Miranda was keeping watch over Weasel while Winston was gone.  How do I know this?  Miranda was on a hair-trigger, the slightest sound causing her to spring to DEFCON-2.

This is not the Miranda I know.  Deb, we need to talk.  Whether directly or indirectly, you are having a profound effect upon my crew, perhaps as profound as the effect you have had upon me.



dclarion: (Default)
It's been a while.  A lot has been happening, very little of it to me.

One thing that I have been doing is turning on an audio recorder program while I talk to myself.  No, these are not the psychotic ramblings of a crazy cat lady, these are audio notes.  The story is this:

Yesterday, on the way back from a therapist appointment, I stopped into Lane Bryant to buy a pair of panties, wanting to take them home to test them for size and comfort of the style.  The store was devoid of customers, so I got to talking with the counter help, making no attempt whatsoever to hide who and what I am.  The conversation turned to my perspectives on the transsexual life, and at one point, I had one of those split-second "episodes", for lack of a better term, wherein I saw myself as an observer might, from the outside, so to speak.  I was all smiles, speaking rather animatedly about my life and times, in a style about halfway between an informal lecture and standup comedy.  I suddenly had the insight that I might want to carry a tape recorder around with me, recording myself during these "presentations", because I saw what I was doing as what I had in mind for a presentation I would like to deliver at a Mensa convention upcoming in September.  Once I got home, I didn't see anything that might serve the purpose, but I did check out a microphone and audio record program, finding them to work well for occasions when I might ramble on to myself at home.  By the way, the panties are perfect for fit and comfort; Lane Bryant has a customer for life.

So...  That was yesterday.  Today, I recorded about a half hour of rambling which was rather choppy, possibly due to the lack of an audience, but it was a start.  I'll transcribe it later.  Thus primed, I was babbling a little while washing a couple of dishes.  In comes Celia, circling and rubbing against my feet.  Perhaps, she liked the sound of my voice, although I know not why.  To my own ear, I sound more like a nerdy adolescent boy than anything approaching a mature woman; I need to work on that.  Horrible human that I am, I picked her up and cradled her in my arms.  A Brian Auger album was playing, out in the Studio, so I took her out there, settled in my chair and continued cradling the Celia-kitty while gently rocking.  After fifteen minutes or so of being inordinately comfortable, a pair of kitty eyes began to slowly close.  It didn't take long for those same kitty eyes to suddenly snap open, their owner looking around with an expression of "What?  Sleep?  Me?  No!  I'm a big girl!  Big girls don't do that!"  With that, she climbed out of my arms to take up her usual station, i.e. as far from DC as possible.

But, there it had been: A once-feral kitty, now happy and comfortable, asleep in my arms.  Thank you, Celia.
dclarion: (Default)
It seems that Celia likes it here.  At least she doesn't mind when I make kissy on her.
dclarion: (Default)
Celia, I love you dearly, but you brought uninvited guests with you.  Therefore, The lady of the house is removing various foodstuffs and other sensitive items in preparation for a bathe-and-bomb run.  If anyone can direct me to some sturdy chain mail, it would be greatly appreciated.
dclarion: (Default)
Celia is clear of internal parasites.  She can join the crew!  Yay!
dclarion: (Default)
I have been told that Celia's FIV and FLV test will be run today, and that I will immediately receive word upon a positive result.  Yes, I'm frightened, but I will deal with whatever happens.

Celia

Dec. 30th, 2011 02:49 am
dclarion: (catlady)
Perhaps I jump the gun here, but may I introduce all of you to Celia, the newest resident of my heart.  She was one of the neighborhood kitties; she was instantly affectionate toward me when I met her, sometime around September, I think.  By early December, I had given her a name, and I knew that I was in trouble.  I took her in the day after Xmas.  She is now in quarantine; as she hasn't protested her new surroundings, I'll be making a vet appointment by Monday.  Once she clears the major checks, the process of introduction to the rest of the household can begin.


Four down, sixty-eight to go.
dclarion: (Default)
I woke a few minutes ago, to that feeling of a full bladder that is another gift of spironolactone.  On a box of videotapes at my feet, DC was curled up, asleep.  Upon lifting my head from the pillow, I saw Miranda curled up in the pile of laundry at the head of my mattress.  I rose to go into the bathroom.  Miranda followed me out, as she always does; when she saw me make the turn from the hall to the bathroom, she continued on to the kitchen.  Very shortly thereafter, I heard the familiar crunching sounds of a kitty partaking of breakfast.

Winston hadn't been in the bedroom when I woke; when I went into the Studio to lower the volume of the Apollo 11 air-to-ground that was my lullaby the previous night, I discovered him on the couch.  He seems to like the VHF-colored voices.  He did not, however, neglect to insinuate his head under my hand, nibbling at my fingers to remind me that it was time to pet the kitty.  Meanwhile, DC entered from the Library to take up station near my chair.  This round of petting -- the first of many that will occur today -- complete, Winston returned to the couch to enjoy the sun shafting in through the window.

My Studio is full of clutter.  It is also full of love.  How blessed I am to be had by these three!  When I would forget myself and mention them to my father, he would bitterly chastise me.  Perhaps he was jealous of them, perhaps he was bitter that they loved and accepted me while he would not.  As my transition has progressed, they have even grown closer to me.  DC brushes and snuggles against me now.  It is the rare occasion when Winston does not sleep with me, whereas a year ago, it was the rare occasion that he did.  Miranda's self-injuring behavior of the previous thirteen years has, within the last two months, all but ceased; I have to sincerely doubt that it is merely coincidental that this is also the period of my latest antiandrogen dosage increase.

There are those who vehemently deny the ability of non-human animals to feel the emotions they ascribe solely to humans.  I know better.  These three show me, on a daily basis, that they love me.  For that, I am eternally grateful.

May 2013

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