L.J. LaBree

Ah, the Joys of Pet Parenthood

July 16, 2018July 16, 2018 L.J. LaBree

In the early hours of Sunday morning, I had to bring my little black and white cat Pepper to the emergency clinic.

Let me back up a bit: I woke up to the smell of dark grey liquid-like foul odor of feline diarrhea. As I opened my eyes and sat up in the early grey morning, I looked around on the floor and found smears of the awful excrement everywhere. Jumping out of bed and tip-toeing over the splotches, I ran downstairs and found my other cat Binx laying on the floor just outside the laundry room. I gently lifted his tail and took a tentative sniff, half expecting to have my nostrils filled with the odor. Nothing. Surprised, I went back upstairs with paper towels and cleaning solution in hand to clean up the mess. As I cleaned up the mess, I found my little girl laying on the floor just a few feet from my bed. She was panting slightly, hardly moving at all, and her backside covered in hardened mats of poo.

Gently, I picked her up and brought her downstairs into the kitchen. I laid her on a towel on top of the table and started cleaning her up. Normally, she would protest and try to escape every which way she could. However, she simply let me wipe her bottom without even the slightest mew. I turned to my mom, who was watching everything from behind, and we both decided to bring her to the closest emergency clinic.

A little less than an hour later, we arrived to a clinic filled with people waiting for their animals to be seen. We probably waited for at least two hours, talking with other pet parents about our fur-babies’ ailments, including a very friendly 7 month old German Shepherd pup who was highly interested in making friends with Pepper.

A very disgruntled Pepper as we wait at the emergency clinic

At last, it was our turn. I watched carefully and with apprehension as the vet tech took Pepper’s temperature, weighed her, then took diligent notes of every symptom we witnessed. Then, the vet came in and talked with us about various tests that could be done to try and narrow down the problem, including x-rays and blood-work. Once we came up with a game plan, the vet tech came back in and took Pepper out of the examination room. We waited for what seemed like an eternity. The vet tech came back with a disgruntled Pepper, telling us she behaved well, yet was more than eager to come back to her human mommy.

After waiting for another 20 minutes, the test results came back. No failing organs, no stray chemicals within her body, yet her white-cell count was way higher than it should be. This meant she was either fighting a virus, a bacterial issue, or something along the lines of Pancreatitis. After some more discussions, we decided to take the route of antibiotics and bring Pepper back home for some much needed R&R.

I stayed up for almost half the night watching over her. She had decided it would be much better laying/sleeping in the litter box in my room, probably so she wouldn’t create any more messes. Then, right around 11:30ish, she had her first solid bowel movement, instantly gained some of her pep back, then jumped onto the bed and snuggled with me for the rest of the night. I didn’t care that she still smelled like a septic tank long overdue for a cleaning.

Earlier this morning, I am happy to announce her appetite came back in a voracious volume. She still has to take her medicine – which she absolutely hates, by the way, and spends as much energy as she can to try and spit it all back out.

During all this emotionally draining experience, I couldn’t help but to think: Is this what it’s like to be a parent?

Thought of the Day

Eye World Problems…

July 13, 2018July 18, 2018 L.J. LaBree

photo of person covered with brown textile — Photo by Noelle Otto on Pexels.com

You know it’s going to be one of those days when everything is going along fairly well – work was tolerable, dinner was satisfactory, and you even got home with enough time to spare and relax with the parental units – and then BAM! There’s something scratching at the fragile membrane of your eyeball. It didn’t feel like anything bad, like say… a cat claw to the face (That’s a story for later) but it was enough to keep your brain focused on it instead of other more entertaining activities.

It’s bad enough when you can see the little bugger when you peel back your lower lid and can see the small sliver of dark brown lash snuggling itself nicely between the irritated membrane, and the now bloodshot eye tissue. But when you search and search, yet still can’t find the lash, that’s when things get frustrating.

For instance, a few days ago my eye was feeling itchy and dry. No big deal, I thought. I’ll just go check it out in the mirror. However, once I got myself to the bathroom and peeled back my lower lid, I found nothing. That’s right, nothing. No lash, no tiny little sliver of hair, nothing. I washed my hands thoroughly and gently prodded all over my eye with a finger, pulling out occasionally to inspect and see if I managed to find it, but nothing came out. Just clear mucus that coats the eye.

I slipped a couple eye drops beneath my lids, then went back into the living room to catch up on some M*A*S*H. A few minutes later, my eye began to itch again! Groaning, I get back up and investigate with the mirror. Still nothing! I searched again with my finger (I washed it again – don’t worry!) and came up empty once more. I even lifted my upper lid and checked there! Nada. A few more eye drops, and still my eye felt itchy.

Frustrated, I added more eye drops and got myself ready for bed. It took twice as long to fall asleep because I was itching at my eyeball like a cat scratching at a particularly annoying dry patch of skin every five or so minutes.

The next day, though, my eye acted as if nothing had ever happened in the first place. The bloodshot look was gone, the membranous mucus was in stock, and all seemed right with the world.

Eye world problems, man. It’s always those eye world problems.

Thought of the Day

Me Needy Coffee

July 11, 2018July 11, 2018 L.J. LaBree

Ever have one of those mornings where you just can’t seem to get out of bed? Where it wouldn’t matter if the skies were bluer than a robin’s egg, barely a cloud in the sky, and birds twittering at one another and singing for their breakfast, but all you wanted was to slink straight back under the covers and close your eyes?

Yeah, that’s me this morning.

My cat, Binx, tried his usual best to wake me up in the wee hours of the morning dark, yet I didn’t wake up to pat him and say hello back. I almost didn’t wake up when my fitbit vibrated my signal to rise to face another day. I could’ve easily slipped back into sweet unconsciousness and flown back into the coercing adventures of dreamland.
By some sheer miracle, I managed to roll over and check the time on my phone, which blared the thin white numbers 4:57am. Mind you, I normally wake up at 4:35 to have valuable bathroom time all to myself before the rest of my family comes bumbling down the stairs in their slightly-disoriented-just-woken-up stupor. As my heart jumped about a foot up my throat, I leaped from the bed, almost cartwheeled down the stairs, and clumsily opened the food cans for four hungry mewling cats.

I don’t quite remember how I had gotten myself fed and clothed, yet there I was, standing in the bathroom with my work attire on and brushing out the mangled mess of my hair when I heard the heavy-set steps of my father. And not long after my papa, down came my mom, patiently waiting for me to grab my makeup so she could take her clock-work shower.

The rest of the morning followed similar suit. I remember getting into my car, yet the actual travel time between home and work are somewhat fuzzy. I can tell you that I listened to Adam Levine, Shawn Mendes, and several other songs that made me want to swing mindlessly to the beat and melody.

And so, as I sit here at work, writing this piece to keep myself awake, all that I can keep thinking about is: did I bring coffee??

Thought of the Day

What Separates Them from Us?

June 20, 2018July 25, 2018 L.J. LaBree

portrait of man

Alright, I’ve been debating even writing this since I first heard of it, but it seems I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut about it. For the past few weeks, we’ve been hearing about illegal immigrant children being taken away, more often than not forcibly, from their parents as they try to cross the border into the United States. Pictures of little ones with red-rimmed eyes, tears scratching their way down their cheeks, videos of children being held in makeshift wire cages like animals, and audio clips of babies crying for their parents have flooded our TVs.

Seriously? This is really even a debate?! These are human beings! Say it with me, now: THESE ARE HUMAN BEINGS!! Homo Sapiens! Just like us Americans! They aren’t coming to this country just to fudge things up! They’re coming here to escape the woes of their homeland, i.e. drug cartel, gangs, even their government! They aren’t cattle! We shouldn’t be treating them like a blight!! Good lord! Where is the compassion?! Where is the decency?! Where is the soul and heart of those who look past this with a blind eye, or worse, a smile on their lips?

How can we allow these people to be subjected to such cruelty and unusual punishment? This goes against everything our country stands for! No one deserves such traumatizing experiences, especially children!

What separates us from them, other than our nationalities? What makes their blood any less red than ours? What makes their tears any less salty than the ones running down our cheeks?

I want you to imagine yourself in their shoes: Instead of them coming into our country, we are flooding theirs. Drug cartels have taken over our government, shooting and killing anyone they please. Imagine the mothers and fathers of our country screaming, reaching out to their children as they are taken away by border patrol. Imagine those children – our children of America – being placed into cages, told to sleep on the floor with thin blankets and tiny pillows. Imagine, for even one second, the feeling of terror, exhaustion, and anguish going through the children’s minds, begging for their mommies and daddies until their voices run hoarse.

Imagine those children being Americans. Do you still turn a blind eye? Do you still smile? No?

Tell me, then, why do you turn a blind eye for someone who isn’t your kind? What separates them from us?

On another note, why is this even happening to begin with? Would Mr. Trump have signed that executive order had there been less negative feedback from the populace? Why did it take this long for him to even do so? Why did he even choose to enforce this policy of his? How is this even strengthening the border?

And so, I ask you as I would ask Mr. Trump if given the chance: if you throw out the nationality part, what separates them from us?

Thought of the Day

To Start a Blog or Not.

June 14, 2018August 14, 2018 L.J. LaBree

I’ve been seeing this a lot lately: someone somewhere on this Earth has written something on the inter-webs along the lines of “if you want to be a serious writer, then you must start a blog!” or “No one will ever look at you if you don’t have a blog/website.”

And, like a lot of people, I start up a blog/website to start my career. But, as I always seem to do, I start the blog and then forget it. I’ve probably started at least 4-5 different blogs, only to stop writing it, or forget about it entirely. I can even tell you the last time I posted an opinion piece on a website (May 20, 2017).

Sometimes it’s because I’m not sure what to write about. Other times I end up putting the website on a back burner because of…well… Life. I come up with the excuses of ‘I just started a job’ or ‘I’m too tired to write anything of interest’ or some other lame excuse. But the truth of it all is: I’m just not good at keeping blogs.

It’s true! I’m even terrible at keeping a diary or a journal. It’s not that I don’t have any thoughts (I have too many!) it’s just that I often don’t think anyone would be interested in what I have to say. That thought is often coupled with struggling to find a topic to stick with and write about.

I like to write about a lot of things: School, my animals, my thoughts about daily life, politics, the list really could go on for another page or two. And don’t even get me started on creative writing. I love coming up with stories in my head! Short stories, novel-esque stories, I even tell myself a story in my head to lull myself to dreamland. Sometimes it’s hard to try and pinpoint a single topic to base an entire blog on. I try not to dwell on one thing for too long and move on, otherwise there’s the issue the topic could consume me whole like some sort of giant python swallowing its prey. Have you seen some of the stories where one of those snakes have swallowed a man whole, with nothing more than his feet sticking out of the creature’s mouth?! That there is nightmare fuel in its own right!

I marvel at how some people can use their blog as some sort of live diary where others could read it and make comments. Some days I wonder if I could do something like that, just to see how people would react to the thoughts that swim in my head all day every day. But then I’m brought down from that cloud when I think that there couldn’t possibly be anyone interested in what’s going on inside my head.

Plus there’s the fact that I seem to veer off topic and start talking/writing about random things that have taken my attention for however short a period. I can honestly tell you that I have stopped and started this opinion piece more times than I care to count! (Of course, I’m also writing this while waiting for the phone to ring at my day job – but let’s not focus too much on that right now.)

In the end, it all boils down to indecisions, fear of not being appealing to the public, and not actively setting the time aside to write something – anything – down to later edit and post to the inter-webs. And whether or not I’m ready to deal with any negative responses.

That being said, I think – believe should be the more appropriate word – that in order to achieve our goals, we have to do things that make us uncomfortable and expose our talents to the world around us. It’s what makes the good in our lives all the more worth-while. It is in that experience that we become the person we want to be.

Aldous Huxley once said, “Experience is not what happens to you, it’s what you do with what happens to you.”

We confront experience every day – it isn’t something we can avoid. It’s the same for this blog/website I’ve created. Whether it is good or bad, this is an experience I need to take. And most importantly, it is what lessons I take from this exposure that define who I am.

I hope this helps any of you who are just as indecisive as I have been.