Euthanasia of Dirac, The Older Of Our Two Beloved Cats

Dirac's kidney insufficiency when it recently was diagnosed after three months of various puzzling illnesses, including the highest temperature the Vet had ever seen and a front leg's abscess the size of a ping pong ball, logged in at a quality-of-life-destroying sixty five percent.

Dirac being only five years old made his developing the disease unusual as it is seen typically in much older cats. In any case, it is mostly a hidden sickness. As the damage spreads, super cells, nephrons, take on the burden of purification until they, too, give out, and that's when pronounced symptoms appear like bloody vomit, loss of appetite/weight, lacklustre fur, lethargy, excessive urination, and disorientation. The earliest symptom is gradually increasing thirst which was not easy to note in Dirac as he went outdoors a great deal. A cure is not possible, only a treatment consisting of three days of IV to lessen the accumulated toxins that his kidneys are no longer able to filter. He spent the nights with us, but his vein was kept open via a device and bandaged until the treatment was finished. He improved for a week during which he went out to sniff out intriguing smells and climb trees, manicuring his claws with great enthusiasm all the time looking at me with bright eyes. He again deteriorated to the point where he stopped eating and couldn't walk in a straight line because his eyes no longer tracked his head movements.

Before we brought him to the Vet for the last time, we had discussed euthanising Dirac and continued to so while he was in his carrier letting out feeble cries from time to time in the back seat. When asked how much suffering he was experiencing, the Vet stated that no one knows exactly how much, but since his quality of life was so diminished, that he without a doubt was suffering. I also kept in mind that one Vet had written on the Web that constant tail waving in cats, unlike dogs, is the equivalent of crying in humans; the last two days Dirac's tail never stopped wagging. She informed us of the enormous damage his kidneys had sustained and that the positive effects would last just a week, necessitating repeated bouts of the invasive treatment.

Once those two aspects were made clear, The Calm One and I nodded in silent agreement that Dirac would be euthanised as soon as possible. She put him to sleep while we gently touched him as we wept. Then The Calm One remained and I left to wait in our car while she finished administering the second injection, the one to stop his heart. As I saw The Calm One approach, he was dangling the empty carrier, the carrier in which he had carried Dirac so many times in the past three months. His face was marked with anguish but his step with determination. To do the right thing is never easy. 

I have decided not to post a photo of our beautiful boy when he was healthy as the biggest ordeal for me was to see him get progressively and irreversibly unhealthy of which I had the hardest time to accept though I eventually did. He was sick, very sick, when we authorised his death. What I want to remember is despite his bad state he died in dignity, with our loving him to the end (we placed our caressing fingers as close to his nose as possible so perhaps he could smell our scent and know it was us, that he was not with strangers) and the Vet calmly, expertly ending his misery. That scene will be lodged in my memory always. The following day I remarked to The Calm One that I felt remiss I was no longer offering constant care to Dirac, to which he replied, that by ensuring him a peaceful death, I fullfilled an important aspect of that care.

Our three-year old cat, Eli, bounds with energy and loves his food. Cats are marvels.

Fruit, Veg, Flowers & Feline

Fresh April green here and there has morphed into verdant lushness all over. The first fig crop is forming while the second and more substantial one will happen in autumn.

Little fuzzy olive-green eggs are dotting the peach tree.

The strawberry harvest at present is enough for making a strawberry banana smoothie every other day. Peak production will be reached in several weeks.

Rhubarb is being picked now, the peas will be in a few weeks, and the potatoes at end of July.

The soft green of fennel (the herb, not the bulb) cosies up to flowering sage.

Comfrey is putting out young leaves and buds. It's an amazing plant for other plants as it is used as a fertiliser tea and a compost accelerator.

The weigela's flower-laden branches are draping the front garden in crimson.

The peony is continuing to set just a few blooms as I suspect the last couple of winters were too mild to give it the cold required for abundant flowering.

Hardy miniature gladioli loves to self sow where I dare not to as in smack up to this ivy-covered pergola pillar.

The Ferdinand Pichard Bourbon rose is paying no attention to Dirac the Cat napping in the southwest sous sol window as all of its blooms are leaning directly towards the south to get as much sun exposure as possible.

À la prochaine!

Late Winter 2019: Colourful Gardening Accessories, Decorative Blown Glass Flowers, Early Blooms & Cat

Time to mosey down to the neighbourhood plant nursery . . . most certainly . . . but with a list please, said my adult to my inner child.

Sturdy but still flexible gloves, chitting potatoes, blue-flowered sunhat & flower seed packets

Chartreuse sabots! I knew the size of the old pair was too large, but I had no desire to hobble on one leg to try on a better fitting pair, or so I thought, until I spied a slim, portable bench placed strategically near the racks of shoes. So not only did I snag probably the most beautiful colour available, I won't be stumbling over my own sabots this season. Not to mention I will be treading on the most cushiony peau de pêche (peach skin!) with which these lightweight sabots are lined.

From the vantage point of my lounge chair under the ivy-draped pergola

Stained glass is a great love of mine. If I had my way all the windows in the world would be stained glass as nothing is more merrier than dancing light. But I make do, as in this case, with Museum Selection's (same place where I ordered that wonderful, blue-flowered, linen hat in the first photo) trio of blown glass flowers. From the online catalogue's photo, it seemed that they would be fairly small and delicate instead of the flamboyant, large beauties they turned out to be. The pansy is bursting with many colours.

The bluebell is more demure, but still, what a charmer.

I stuck it in a large tub of blueberries

Though the pansy and bluebell are gorgeous beyond belief, it is the foxglove that exerts a trance-like influence upon me as I find myself peering into swirling depths of seemingly liquid burgundy longer than an industrious gardener should be doing.

Though our 'lawn' has been cut several times already, I do try to spare the dandelions because insects including bees appreciate them for nectar and pollen, especially during this time when there is little else blooming. The perky english daisies (Bellis perennis) however are all over the place as their kind is wont to do, so I leave a selected expanse of them alone. It's easy, even for me, an avid and knowledgeable gardener to take nature for granted, as in what we see is what is, for example how pollinators are attracted to flowers. Sure enough, chemistry, that is, colour and scents are no brainers. But how about this?

Pollinators are attracted to flowers by chemical and structural features. One of these structural features may [be] the interaction of light with regularly arranged, microscopic surface features. The ray florets of Bellis perennis have distinct microscopic furrows produced by cylindrical, transversely-striated cells. Under laboratory conditions these surface features produce diffraction patterns which may attract insect pollinators. However, under natural light conditions these effects are lost, indicating that such features are unlikely to attract the natural pollinators of Bellis. In Bellis, pollinators are likely to be attracted by the contrast between the capitulum's ray and tube florets. (Source)

Triumph tulips (Seadov) have those characteristics of red nail polish, that is, being remarkably shiny and deeply pigmented, but just in their case, also being as soft as a spring breeze.

Heather is just past peak bloom & rose foliage is sprouting as are calla lilies

Blossoms on the peach tree are opening. Each day I peer into their centres, hoping to see a tiny peach. When I do, then I know I do not need to worry any longer about a surprise freeze killing the blooms before they can be pollinated.

A well-loved garden colour combination of mine is pink and blue; the former is provided by a plum cherry tree while the latter by flowering rosemary.

View from the east side of our house towards the front garden

Dirac the Cat has many places where he naps, but sleeping on the sous sol potting room's padded window sill is one of his favourites. Bags of potting mix wait patiently while I get around to making up flats and pots for seedlings.

Spot the lounge chair! Clue: it's the same colour as the peach blossoms

À la prochaine!

Mid-Autumn Garden 2018

November has its particular gardening tasks. I sat under the ivy-covered pergola thinking, oh my goodness, I haven't transplanted the recently arrived nursery shipment. Up I go.

Inspiring perspective offered by my humble lounge chair

Getting lots of small-sized shrubs sent allows a great choice and lower prices than can be found at neighbourhood gardening centres. Doing this in the autumn is my preference ever since a Yorkshire nurseryman informed me a few decades ago that the selection available is less pot-bound than what can be bought in the spring since whatever doesn't sell sits through winter until when purchasing pick up again as the weather becomes mild enough. Eight Japanese holly, six ball-shaped, two conical, got their own bed and were  mulched. The focus is to get transplants done several weeks before the first frost to encourage root development. Because box plants have become susceptible to disease, Japanese holly, with their small, dark-green and permanent foliage, have become one of the most favourite substitutes to create precisely clipped shapes and topiary.

Back under the pergola I go! Looking at the 'Sky Rocket' juniper which when transplanted from its nursery bed this past February at the tender height of 30 cm, I noted its height now is closer to 90 cm. Encouraged by the fruits of my past labour, I get up . . .

. . . to position 100 daffodil bulbs. This bounty came from just fifteen ones that were planted about eight years ago. That small patch stopped blooming last spring as is the way of overcrowded daffodils. So I dug them up and was delighted to see how much they propagated. Once they were placed on the prepared bed, the length of a hand trowel was driven into the soil, shifted to one side, and the bulb dropped down around 15 cm deep. After they all got done, the surface was patted down with the flat side of a spade. Around February, this centre bed will be aglow with golden blooms.

The leafy bed behind the daffodils is filled with tansy, a cover crop, that soon will be mowed down so as to mulch the soil through winter

One of the projects completed this summer—one that I wanted to do years ago—was putting plastic (a large potting mix bag cut open) over a dodgy former drain, circle it with roofing tiles, thickly layering wood chips (diligently chipped by The Calm One via our new chipping machine), and placing on top pots of shade-loving plants like heuchera and ferns as this area is situated under box elder and cherry plum trees.

After years, the ivy has taken hold and covers much of our east-facing property wall. It is a major beautifier. It need about 2-4 trims yearly so it will become a bush-like growth up to 180 cm beyond the top of the wall. When ivy runs out of vertical support, it becomes bushy and laden with berries which are wonderful winter bird food.

The narrow iris bed flanking the central path will be replaced with a selection of plants that will look good all year round and not just during May. Some of the candidates are Japanese holly, moss pink, heather, perennials like penstemon, and long-blooming annuals like asters and cosmos.

Mound of leaves covered with netting in the background will become mulch by spring

This critter with the delicately pink nose is Eli the Cat.  He found a bag full of leaves to be exceedingly comfy. . .

. . . while Dirac the Cat chose a sunny sous-sol window sill.

À la prochaine!

The Tulips Keep Coming . . .

The plethora of tulips planted in the front garden last autumn are about three-quarters into their season. Pieter de Leur, a lily-flowered variety, present their glossy, huge, crimson blooms in front of still-in-bud, late-season, Sky High Scarlet cottage tulips.

Surrounding lavender bushes are putting out new green growth

This single Pieter de Leur looks as if it's floating in green ether.

Nearby, Apricot Parrot tulips dazzle with their flamboyant form and colour.

Some Pieter de Leur and Apricot Parrot along with pink Miss Elegance and Daydream (starts out yellow then blends into apricot) wind up in a flower brick.

Viridiflora tulip, China Town may be demure, but also unforgettable, with its shell pink streaked with vibrant green.

The entrance path separates the plum tree, abelia, and tulips from some purple bearded irises.

Varigated Lamium galeobdolon loves the shade, self propagates readily, and its foliage and yellow flowers look wonderful against grey rocks.

Dirac the Cat opened an eye to let me know that he is safely tucked within the candytuft away from rambunctious Eli the kitten. I warned him not to let down his guard so soon . . .

. . . as he has left a telltail.

In the back garden, the potager is being prepared for some more sowing. Potatoes and peas are in, and soon carrots, kale, and beets will take their turn. Tomato seedlings are sitting pretty in their mini-greenhouse. Rhubarb has had its first harvest and the asparagus bed is sprouting about a kilogram of spears weekly.

That's the wild area of mostly brambles in background for hedgehogs, lizards,  birds, and insects

À la prochaine!

Sun Then Snow . . .

Though last week has been cold, I couldn't resist getting bundled up and strolling through the garden. The daffodils waved hello. How can they flaunt such exuberance? It's because last season their leaves were allowed to rot in place so as to nourish the underground bulb which became this out-of-sight powerhouse waiting to generate what we are seeing now: ornate lanterns requiring no light to shine.

Sweet violets are superb ground covers because they are evergreen shade-lovers, have fragrant late-winter flowers that can be candied, and spread readily through ballistic seed dispersal (click here to see it happening) plus myrmecochory (foraging worker ants carry the seeds back to the colony). To maximise flower visibility as the vigorous foliage can obscure the flowers, in late summer I take a line-trimmer to the beds and mow them down to a couple of inches above the ground.

Overwintered blue tansy (Phacelia tanacetifolia) cover crop has done its soil protection job well. Soon it will be cut down and forked in so it can do its soil enrichment task also.

Once ivy reaches the end of its vertical support, it morphs into a robust bush that bears fruit which nourishes birds throughout winter. There's lots of ivy chez nous. Some grows up the pergola's pillars onto its roof. There has been this one starling who I have been observing from my office. She flits in and out of the ivy, plucking and swallowing berries in a flash. Once I witnessed her indulging in a fast food feast consisting of ten berries which she ate in a New York minute.

What beverage to go with that dish of ivy berries, my dear starling? Water, preferably of the liquid kind, please. Freezing temperatures the last few days mean that ice is slipped out of the birdbaths so they can be filled with fresh water.

The daffodils and heather cheer me up each and every time I peek out my office window.

Just before the temperature dropped even further, Dirac the Cat, with the aid of fedar (feline radar set for profiting from anything) popped out to relish sunny warmth before . . .

. . . snowflakes came floating down . . .

. . . and kept coming down . . .

. . . until all was leaden grey, but with the dreariness made less by white fluff. By that time, we were inside; Dirac the Cat was munching a treat and I was sipping something gloriously hot.

À la prochaine!

Happy Thanksgiving to our American Readers!

Once Dirac the Cat was informed that La Grand Fête Americaine (the Great American Party) is approaching, he promptly exclaimed, bon appétit, tout le monde!

The Calm One says, gobble, gobble, gobble. And I say, yeah baby, cook up a storm. 

For all the harried and hurried cooks out there, the team at Food 52 is here for you:

And if anything goes awry in the countdown from now until Thanksgiving dinner, the Food52 Hotline will be humming, and we’re making sure you get answers in 10 minutes or less. You’ll get a response from either the cooks in the Food52 community or from me, Amanda, Merrill, or another Food52 editor or recipe tester. We’re all on call—come one, come all, even if your turkey is purple. It’ll be okay!

À la prochaine!