I am 30 years old, and in this picture, I look it.
Go fuck yourselves.
crocheted leggings help willow the deformed kitty walk tall
In a YouTube video, Willow, a young cat the color of sunflowers and cream, pauses mid-stride and gazes at the camera with striking amber eyes. Her back legs are twisted, and she drags them along as she moves across the room. It is a painstaking process, and she stops every few steps to rest.
But in the next scene, she is wearing a pair of crocheted leggings, which allow her deformed limbs to slide smoothly across the wood floor. She moves easily, as though she doesn’t know there’s anything wrong with her legs at all.
This simple pair of leggings proved to be a game-changer for Willow. Cats’ skin does not develop calluses like our skin, so Willow develops painful sores if her legs are allowed to drag. Her leggings keep her skin safe — and they look cute to boot. They were made especially for her by Leggings for Life, a nonprofit organization that connects an international network of crocheters to disabled animals in need.
Willow looks good in a sweater and crocheted leggings, which help her to walk more easily.
Wendy Matthews founded Leggings for Life in 2011 after she adopted Willow. Matthews has been rescuing and finding homes for stray and unwanted cats since 2006. In February 2011, she found Willow via Craigslist, which she checks regularly for animals urgently in need of a home. Willow was the only kitten left out of her litter. Because of her crippled back legs, no one seemed to want her.
“My heart was gripped,” Matthews says. “I called the people and immediately drove 40 miles one way in a snowstorm to pick her up. She was definitely wanted!”
Due to her deformity, Willow might have been euthanized if Matthews had not rescued her. The young cat’s back legs were facing the wrong direction, which made walking difficult and painful. But mobility issues weren’t the biggest threat to Willow’s health. According to Matthews’ vet, Willow’s main challenge would be painful ulcerations and open wounds, which would leave her prone to myriad infections.
Despite this disheartening news, Matthews didn’t let Willow’s disability stop her from giving her cat a full and happy life. By crocheting a simple pair of custom leggings, Matthews drastically improved Willow’s quality of life. Now Willow can run and play just like any other kitty.
Find out more about Willow and Leggings for Life at Catster.com.
Filed under crazy cat lady, shit that gets me every time
day 27: my boredom is a minefield
I have a friend who used to work in an office doing data entry. She sat in front of a computer eight hours a day entering numbers into spreadsheets. She hated it so much that the first time she saw the movie “Office Space,” she cried.
I can relate. These days my professional life feels like something straight out of corporate America satire: The ceaseless emails marked “urgent.” The standardized job tickets that are revised daily. The seemingly endless staff meetings. The strictly scheduled lunch breaks.
This is my adorable cube mate. He cheers me up a lot, and when I get so bored I think I’m going to turn to dust, he stops it from happening.
Don’t get me wrong — I am grateful to have a job. My coworkers are pleasant individuals, and my office is clean and comfortable. I get a paycheck every two weeks. I have insurance. I know a lot of people are unemployed right now. I’m glad I’m not one of them.
But I am a creative person, and I need to be challenged or I quickly become desperately bored. Here are four reasons my boring job might get me in trouble.
1. Facebook
Sometimes at the office I eat too much sugar (usual culprit: someone’s birthday) or drink too much caffeine (usual culprit: spreadsheets). This leads to the following:
Or this:
2. Strange Google searches
Some stuff I’ve googled lately:
- Vacation time in Europe (guess what — it’s way longer than ours)
- How your job is killing you
- Quotes about boredom (Here’s a good one: “Bliss — a-second-by-second joy and gratitude at the gift of being alive, conscious — lies on the other side of crushing, crushing boredom. Pay close attention to the most tedious thing you can find (Tax Returns, Televised Golf) and, in waves, a boredom like you’ve never known will wash over you and just about kill you. Ride these out, and it’s like stepping from black and white into color. Like water after days in the desert. Instant bliss in every atom.” –David Foster Wallace)
- What salary is a good salary?
- Flesh-eating bacteria
3. Cartwheels
On the way to the bathroom, I’ll occasionally pause in the lobby and look over each shoulder to make sure no one is coming. Then I will do a cartwheel. Then I will keep walking as though nothing has happened. The problem: There are cameras everywhere. They are watching me, and they probably do not like what they see.
4. I hate spreadsheets.
THERE. I SAID IT.
Filed under random
day 26: a fortuitous turn of events for a disabled kitten named pretzel
Carmen Bernard and her husband were driving down a country lane just outside of Jacksonville, FL, when they spotted something fuzzy moving in the road. Thinking it was an opossum, Bernard, a senior veterinary technician and wildlife rehabilitator, pulled over to help.
Once she got a closer look, she realized it wasn’t an opossum at all, but a tiny Siamese kitten. The baby cat’s back legs were twisted in such a way that they looked broken. Bernard thought the kitten had been hit by a car, so she scooped her up and took her home.
The kitten, later named Pretzel by her thousands-strong Facebook family, was only five weeks old when Bernard found her. According to the veterinarian Bernard took Pretzel to see the next morning, the kitten had not been injured but had in fact been born with several severe deformities.
“The vet said she’s not broken; she was born that way,” Bernard says.
Pretzel stood up on her new leg only a day after her first corrective surgery.
X-rays revealed that the joints in Pretzel’s right leg were backwards, and her kneecap was on the back of her leg. As a result, the muscles and tendons in her leg were also reversed, and the pressure was causing her bones to twist. These issues limited her mobility and caused her a significant amount of pain. Her left leg was impacted as well, although not as severely as her right.
In addition to her twisted legs, Pretzel was blind. Her optic nerves were not connected to her retinas, meaning her blindness was permanent. Because of these myriad disabilities and deformities, the sweet kitten was given a deadly label: “unadoptable.”
“The vet said, you have two choices: You can either stick in this for the long haul or you can put her to sleep,” Bernard says. “And I had to give her a chance.”
Read the rest and see how Pretzel is thriving at Catster.com, and join Pretzel’s Facebook family to continue following her journey.
Filed under random
day 25: wtf are these bugs infesting my apartment?
I keep seeing them everywhere, usually at the most inopportune times. One will be climbing the curtains while I’m showering or chilling on my bedroom window while I’m half asleep, and I’ll think, fuck. Then I’ll carry on as usual.
These bugs have been infesting my apartment for months. And I don’t have any idea what they are.
They don’t seem particularly virulent — in fact, they seem downright docile, content to calmly hang out on the lampshade until I either crush them with a paper towel or one of my cats decides to make a game of murdering them.
They don’t even try to get away. It’s like they’ve lost the will to live, and they’ve come to my apartment for the insect-world equivalent of suicide by cop. They know they’re not supposed to be creeping around my decorative throw pillows or scaling my shampoo bottle. They know the offense is punishable by death. Now, they just wait.
Their gentle nature makes me feel somewhat guilty for crushing their bodies between my fingers at least once a day and tossing them carelessly in the trash beside cat shit and rotting food. It almost makes me want to learn to live with them.
But dammit, I’m already strange enough without welcoming an army of unidentified bug guests into my home. Because I want the other humans to like me, I’m going to figure out what the bugs are and eliminate them.
They kind of look like lightning bugs, but less awesome. According to a quick Google search for “bugs that look like lightning bugs but aren’t,” here are two possibilities for what I’m dealing with.
1. Boxelder bug
They almost look like this, but not quite. Also, you’d think a bug with “elder” in its name would not be such a suicidal idiot.
2. Lightning bug
They look so much like this that I might be dealing with the real thing. Or perhaps an unfortunately mutated version of the real thing that lacks the ability to light up.
In any case, their resemblence to this beloved insect of my youth has been their saving grace. If they in any way resembled worms or larvae, they would all be DEAD DEAD DEAD by now. I would murder them in a joyful rage.
Any other suggestions?
Filed under suck it
day 24: snow day: a poem, inspired by prolonged isolation
It’s a snow day.
A whole city of humans
slowly going insane
in little boxes.
It’s a snow day.
I spent six hours squinting
down the street
through a curtain
of white gauze.
I couldn’t see
more than
a block away,
so I stayed home.
It’s a snow day.
I’ve kissed my cat’s forehead
a hundred times,
the smooth place
between her eyes
above the tiny gray spot
that appeared one day
out of nowhere
and made me worry
about cancer.
“Calicos are weird like that,”
my friend said.
I believed him
because I wanted to.
It’s a snow day.
I’m stuck at home,
but my mind
travels.
The icy trenches
I’ve dug while
shaving my legs
cooking some rice
waiting for the kettle to boil
all lead
directly
to
your
front
door.
It’s a snow day.
The hardware store is
out of shovels.
I wait for the next delivery
with fucking
Leonard Cohen’s
motherfucking
cold, broken hallelujah
and a metal stand
of fruit & vegetable seeds –
monster tomato,
purple tomatillo,
Spanish carrot,
jalapeno pepper.
The air smells of
toxic fertilizer and
unwashed jeans.
There are five of us
waiting for shovels.
We are all women,
alone.
I walk down
the center of the road
where the snow is packed
smooth and solid,
my new
ergonomic
snow shovel
resting on my shoulder.
On the sidewalk,
the snow comes up
to my knees.
My shoes
are not waterproof.
It’s a snow day.
I’ve communicated mostly
through clicks
and likes.
Memes remind me to
SEIZE THE DAY
&
DON’T WAIT TO SAY I LOVE YOU
&
NEVER SETTLE
&
KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON.
I like them.
I stare at my phone.
I refresh my email.
Outside, three people
tromp down the street
in colorful hats and scarves.
A moment later,
their photo pops up
on my newsfeed.
It’s a snow day.
The pumpkin candle
I got on clearance
smells more like
laundry detergent.
People outside are
shouting
laughing
sledding down the hill
in the park
across the street.
I’ve eaten
too many carbs today.
I put on
bright red lipstick
for no reason
and smudged it on
my coffee mug.
I’m scared all the time.
I’m not living right.
Filed under a motherfucking fucking spiritual journey, Kansas City, poetry
day 23: snow day: a poem, inspired by shit they say on the local news
Just a few degrees warmer,
it would have been a downpour,
a gift to the parched earth.
But that snow just keeps coming down.
Plow drivers work around the clock
to keep streets clear.
But that snow just keeps coming down.
A shirtless teenage boy makes a snow angel –
youth is wasted on the young.
A dog runs outside, loving it, loving it –
then decides “this isn’t for me,”
and scurries back inside to warmth.
The mayor has declared a state of emergency.
Traffic on 435 is at a standstill.
A truck stops to pull a car
out of the ditch.
They both get stuck.
But that snow just keeps coming down.
Thundersnow.
I’ve never seen anything like it.
It was a summertime thunderstorm
just pouring down snow.
Filed under Kansas City, photos
