Stacy Horn

Today a kitten aspirated while I was bottle feeding him, and he is now in the hospital. I googled aspiration to see what his chances are of survival and it’s not good. I am a wreck, but I have to say, all the people at the ASPCA really rallied around me to assure me that it wasn’t my fault. My coach sat with me, she sent various people to me throughout the day to confirm it wasn’t my fault. AND, the fellow Nursery Caregivers kept stopping by and asking if I needed help, and I totally did.

I was just freaked out and off my game for the rest of the day and if they hadn’t stepped up to the plate and helped me feed my kittens and clean their cages I don’t think I would have gotten everything done.

AND, an hour or two later they gave me three new bottle babies who were born last night! I had to immediately start feeding them, these tiny, tiny things. I’m guessing it was a getting-back-on-the-horse thing, and my coach was with me the whole time.

A lot of people helped me, but I have to thank Colleen, Jess and Giselle in particular. I’m pretty sure none of them know I blog, and I’ve already thanked them in person of course. What else can I do? I should bring donuts tomorrow for everyone or something. Except I don’t know if they will all be there tomorrow. But they were all so professional and caring.

The kitten, Bodhi, was still alive when I left work, it’s just that I now know that if it got into his lungs he will likely develop pneumonia, and he won’t make it. So, yeah. He was one the first kittens I successfully bottle fed, so this will kill me if I killed him.

Another picture of Finney. His pain meds have arrived and I will be giving him his first dose in a half an hour (backstory: one of my cat’s cancer returned).

There’s a great article about Echo in the Atlantic, the online service I founded in 1989!! Thank you, Sandy. You did a great job.

An early version of our web page. I would love to go back to that. For nostalgia’s sake. I’d love to go back to our first, but I don’t even have a picture of it.

I picked up Finney the other day and noticed a lump in the same spot where he had his surgery. I was feeling so optimistic. I even ordered a year’s worth of insulin for him! But the vet confirmed his cancer was back. No more surgeries. Pain meds have been ordered. Being an inconsolable wreck is in my future. My poor little guy. I thought you had caught a break.

My section at the ASPCA’s Kitten Nursery has fewer kittens than any other, and I’ve been begging for more kittens. I’ve been warned to be careful for what you wish for, and even as I cry for more kittens I know what they mean. If I walk into an explosion of kittens I’ll be running without stop cleaning their enclosures and feeding them, and I’ll miss the days when I could take care of the ones I had relatively easily.

I’m always trying to come up with new toys for Bleecker (Finney is a laze-about cat now). This was made from cut up pieces of the cardboard tube from a roll of paper towels. I bunched pieces together and spaced them out along a piece of string. It was a medium success. He likes it, but does not love it.

I don’t watch the news anymore. When I read the Times I immediately scroll down past the main stories. The news is relentlessly bad and I can’t take it anymore. He demeans the office on a daily basis. In the window the Sex and the City building on Bleecker Street.