I wish I knew more Turkish.

Monday, March 28, 2011
More than once this weekend, mutual friends of ours exhibited surprise when I assured them that I want to continue to learn Turkish. Obviously, the classes I took weren't as helpful as I had hoped and I am nowhere near fluent (though I didn't really expect such amazing results from a 6 week class) but jeez folks - I'm not done.

My boyfriend's first language is Turkish. That is the language he is most comfortable using and the one he communicates best with. By choosing to not pursue a deeper comprehension of Turkish I would essentially be saying "I don't care about being able to communicate effectively with you, ever." At the very least, I feel I should know as much Turkish as he does English - it's only fair.

Something else to consider: healthy, happy relationships are based on the ability to communicate well with your partner. It's difficult enough when we have conflicts, but it is compounded by the fact that we think and speak in different languages.

Now, I just need Seattle to get with the program - how about hooking a girl up with more matriculation options, eh?

*hangs head in shame*

Thursday, March 24, 2011
Oh for the love of gawd - I am an awful blogger.

Bear's been here for almost a month now, this week we got our sweet-ass couch and dining set and soon we can show off the new digs with a housewarming party.

Days before he came home, my fantastic orange kitty Wilson got very sick and had to be put to sleep. Lord, that was rough. He was not even 4 years old and in great health the day before - I didn't see it coming at all.

So, we've all been adjusting to a new cat, Bear is settling in to his new home and I am learning how to live with a dude.

It's been more than interesting but honestly, I would change very little about these last few months of my life (except for the lack of blogging part, eh?)

Wilson and Bread

Wednesday, March 23, 2011
First of all, I want to sincerely thank every one of you who prayed for us and shared our pain on Facebook. It is always tragic to lose a part of your family, furry or not, suddenly or slowly. We were blind-sided and Serkan had no option but to offer as much support as he could while being thousands of miles away. Unfortunately this meant he was not able to have his own goodbyes with Wilson, and they loved each other so so much.

Truly, all of your kind words have touched my heart. I know many of you have been through the same thing or have a pet that you love so much you don't want to imagine ever being in the same position. As they say, "this ain't my first rodeo" and in my life I have said goodbye to many kitties, never on really pleasant terms. Wilson is incredibly special to me and I will never forget all of the things I loved; the last 4 days of his life are far outweighed by the 2+ great years I got to spend with him. He taught me things.

In the days after he passed, after separate heart-to-heart chats with Bear and the Madre in which I honestly expressed my desire to adopt another cat (I can't say it more eloquently):

"Unlike some people who have experienced the loss of an animal, I did not
believe, even for a moment, that I would never get another. I did know full well
that there were just too many animals out there in need of homesfor me to take
what I have always regarded as the self-indulgent road of saying the heartbreak
of the loss of an animal was too much ever to want to go through with it again.

To me, such an admission brought up the far more powerful admission that
all the wonderful times you had with your animal were not worth the unhappiness
at the end."

- Cleveland Amory

they both unknowingly presented me with the same, kinda freakin' brilliant, idea.

We'll have to back-track a little.

About a year and a half ago, a friend's bartender roommate was trying to adopt out two young adult Maine Coon mix brothers - he had agreed to house them for a friend whose new girlfriend had allergies or hated the cats or maybe she was just slightly crazy, we never really figured it out but she never attempted to regain ownership of the kitties even after insisting they be adopted out together. Since another roommate was allergic, these cats (who probably loved their original owner and home) were now forced to spend their days and nights in one room where the occupant was actually rarely there. I had Gizmo and Wilson in a one bedroom apartment so I couldn't rescue them myself, but I convinced my Mom that she had enough room to house them in addition to the 2 she already had - 17 year old BC and her youngin' Sawyer. I would have taken one if I could have, but ended up convincing my Mom to step closer to the cliff into Crazy Cat Ladydom.

The boys Bread and Puppet were named after The Bread and Puppet Theater: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bread_and_Puppet_Theater and holy crap they were *traumatized*. We all got scratched to pieces when we put them in the crates; one person even got blood poisoning. It wasn't pretty.

The Madre (aka The Cat Whisperer) quickly turned them around and they are mostly normal adorable cats, though Bread has a tendency to pick on Sawyer (who also never got along with Gizmo) and Puppet is still very shy around strangers. I adore them both, though Bread is really my fave.

One night while discussing our adoption options Serkan gently suggested that maybe Ma might let me take one of her cats off her hands and I immediately protested - BC needs to stay with her because of his age, Sawyer doesn't get along with Gizmo and the brothers grew up together. Puppet loves my mom dearly and I know he is too sensitive to be parted from her. I thought *maybe* she would consider letting us take Bread home but knew I would never actually ask her to consider it.

That same night The Madre called me to present the exact same idea. Two days later, she brought Bread to me.

It's been a rocky start with Gizmo - at first she was just confused, then she was pissed.

For me it's been pretty easy (minus all the growling and initial spats in the middle of the night) - Bread is a great cuddler. Oh my goodness he loooooves to spoon. And he's 17 pounds of adorable silliness.

I still have plenty of moments where I think "oh, Wilson used to..." or "that's just like Wilson..." and I am smacked in the face with grief, but life is getting back to normal as the kitties adjust to each other and we settle in with our new ball o' fluff.