juushika: Screen capture of the Farplane from Final Fantasy X: a surreal landscape of waterfalls and flowers. (Anime/Game)
Be ye warned of discussions of pet health/aging/death.

A little while ago, my family's dog Jamie (a fourteen year old black lab; lab life expediency is 10-12 years) had a health scare that resolved to be a probable brain bleed, collapsing, some seizing, labored breathing, etc. We did the entire routine of family panic, "the dog may be dying" phone calls, considering trips to the emergency vet; the crisis resolved overnight and they were able to take her to her normal vet the next day. She's been acting old-dog normal since, with all the ongoing health issues but no new ones. But the vet still believes she won't make it through autumn, if only because they see most old animals die in spring and autumn when the changing seasons add new stressors.

Talking about this with Mum after the fact, she said that she'd used me as an example of calm and acceptance when everyone was doing the crying freakout thing—which startled me to hear, but makes sense. I've seen so many companion animals die, both recently and generally. I am on intimate terms with non-human animal death, in ways I never am with human death, even when I know the deceased. These dying animals are in my care or care-adjacent; their lives and deaths and my responsibility. None of that has a negative connotation, and I have gotten really good at calmly accepting end-of-life events.

When Mama died, so quickly, despite lifesaving measures, we still had a sense of absolute certainty. We watched her transition from skittish bedraggled stray to a playful, profoundly affectionate, calm housecat, and that was our doing; we also helped her in sickness, and made the decision to euthanize her, and that was equally as beneficial to her wellbeing. I cannot have one of those things without the other, nor would I want to. This one thing, providing love and care to animals, is within my ability, and there's nothing I'd rather do.

My sister got a mini red merle Australian Shepherd named Tiber last year, and, I mean, he's a good dog, but I was watching my family replace Jamie, not with intent but because it was easier to bond with a lively young dog than to accept Jamie in her old age, with her failing body, her loud panting, her constant need to Be With. They were looking after her physically, but their emotional energy was diverted. And, to be honest, I don't think Jamie knew or cared; with her blindness and exhaustion came a particularly dogged affection, a love unswayed by physical or social concerns. But seeing the impatience and distraction she received bothered me.

When I explained all of this to my mother (everything except the quiet judgment, obvs.), my emphasis was this: I was sad when she seemed like she might be dying, but not afraid and not sorry, because I regret nothing about Jamie, not the life I had with her, not who she is now, neither her eventual death. It's not an inconvenience or a price to be paid for the better parts; it is part of an experience, and that experience is the thing I value most in my life.

I don't expect them to do that, to turn tolerance into engagement and value Jamie-now as easily as Jamie-then. But not everyone engages with companion animals the way I do, and to be honest my engagement is something I've severely fucked up and undervalued in the past (and that I do regret). But her health scare woke them. They know not to take for granted the time she has left, and so to engage with her in that time, even if that requires patience with her old dog ways. I'm glad to see it, because she deserves the world—they all do, these animals we pledge ourselves to, but Jamie does in particular.
juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (Default)
Hello, internet! We have a new cat.

It's been long enough since Mama's passing that it finally feels like the right time. Dee's been watching the humane society's website for cats with special needs but affordable upkeep, and when Daredevil showed up see seemed like a good fit. She's blind due to a congenital defect, but well-adjusted, outgoing, and highly affectionate. She's also so teeny-tiny.

Medical details and her history. )

She came to us at two years old-ish and 6.5 pounds which, if you were counting, is super teeny omg. She's nearly half August's size. She makes tiny-man Gilly look big. She's a short-haired tortoiseshell.

Dare takes a little bit of time to adjust to new spaces and stimuli, but is proactively engaged with her environment; she's bright and observant, and has already conquered the bathroom and is eager to get out to the rest of the house. Disability isn't inspiration porn, even in cats, but the degree to which this cat is engaged with her environment is amazing. She tracks sound so well it seems like she's making eye contact with what she's "looking" at; she's a great example of how much cats use their whiskers to explore and navigate their environment. Being blind from birth probably helps, since she's unaware of what she's missing; it probably also helps that she's bold and friendly. She's refined the tools she has to engage with her environment, and damn but does she use them. She makes my cats look like lazy slackers.

She has a teeny little meow, and is moderately vocal (a good bit of meowing for attention, but so far no yowling for the pure pleasure of making atrocious noises), purrs persistently, and kneeds a lot—that last is winding down a touch as she gets a little less frantic for human interaction, but I'll still be maintaining the hell out of her claw trimmings. She's quite playful, and absolutely able to bat and chase cat toys. It will be interesting to see how her behaviors change as she adapts to living her and to plenty of human interaction—Gillian, for example, was very needy when he first came here and now is happy to take his humans for granted.

And she is so wildly different from Mama that there's no hidden regret or sense of betrayal. Dare is her own unique cat, not a replacement.

Juu, who cares, show us pictures.


(From the humane society's adoption page.)


(Taken by me, on her first day home.)


(Taken by Dee.)


(Taken by Dee.)


I do dumb liveblogging/picspamming on my tumblr (cat tag) these days, just fyi.
juushika: Screen capture of the Farplane from Final Fantasy X: a surreal landscape of waterfalls and flowers. (Anime/Game)
Dee and I have a tradition when a pet dies—we go to the humane society. We do it because we have the bodies cremated there, and/or because we have their materials to donate, which helps clear out bad memories and supports a good cause, but we stay to look at the animals.

I don't want to hear other people's pet stories when I've just lost my own, but I want to know that there are pets out there, cared for, loved, and soon to find the perfect home. Oregon Humane Society's save rate is 98% (and both Odi and Loki came from OHS), so it has a sense of willful goodness.

This time, we met Bartholomeow Winchester, a big old mancat—literally: 10 pounds, 13 years, a longhaired tuxedo with the yellow chin and no-fucks-given attitude of old age who was aggressively affectionate. Someone adopted him that day.

We saw Ash, who was already on hold: an 8 month medium-hair blue of this most distinctive color: not a velvety frosted blue, but a silky coat like August's in a remarkable shade of deep, saturated gray. I've made it my life's goal to only have black cats, but I think I've decided that certain varieties of black and white count—like Gilly's white flecks, like handsome tuxedo mancats, and like breathtaking deep blues. I discovered that Ash looks precisely like (although is probably not) a Nebelung—a cat breed "best defined as semi-long haired Russian Blue." I want one keenly.

The last weeks have been devastating. Mama was a remarkable cat, and Dee and I very much shared her—all we've ever wanted for her was the absolute best that we could give, and coming to terms with what that meant has been heartbreaking. But there's no regret. No regret in knowing her, or caring for her; browsing futurepets is a reminder of that: that all they really are is wonderful.
juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (I should have been born a cat)
Warning for discussion of pet illness/pet death.



We euthanized Mamakitty two days ago.

Her initial improvement when we started her on a feeding tube was short-lived—she had issues keeping food down, digesting well, and regaining loss weight. More than that, she was miserable—wheezy and lethargic, uncomfortable, and distinctly exhausted by everything happening to her. Her Prednisone dose was meant for immediate relief but was having no effect, and was therefore unlikely to have an effect in the future.

The only reason to continue life-sustaining treatment was if she wanted her life sustained, or if her quality of life would improve in the near future. Neither was true.

We brought Mama inside two years ago, in January; the entire time we knew her, from befriending the timid local stray to petting her tummy while she snoozed on our beds, all we did was make Mama’s life better. She was a miracle for us, and us for her, and we have no regrets. Euthanizing her was one last thing we could do to make things better, and it was an easy decision.

(August has been glued to me since then, never more than an arms-length away, which has made all of this much easier.)


juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (I should have been born a cat)
Warning for discussion of pet illness/death.

Mamakitty's two week bloodwork didn't show all the results we were looking for, so she went in for an ultrasound today. Based on the state of her lymph nodes, she most probably has cancer and it's progressed beyond the point where it could be treated. Ascertaining more information about the disease would be invasive and is incredibly unlikely to help us save her life. The vet says that even if we sunk all the energy and money in the world into her treatment, there's probably nothing we could do. In a way, that's liberating--we don't have to choose between treatments or measure the value of her life.

She's on Prednisone to treat the cancer symptoms, and her feeding tube continues as normal. We'll deal with what can be dealt with, getting food and meds in her, and we'll make her remaining time as comfortable as possible. No matter how long that is, we've already given two miracle years, inside and loved and happy.
juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (I should have been born a cat)
Mamakitty is doing well!

The scariest part was bringing her home—that's when we saw the symptoms the vets were expecting: weight loss, lethargy. But Dee and I adjusted well to the feeding regimen, and Mamakitty rallied quickly. But the 9th (only 5 days-ish after surgery) she was up and about again, significantly more active and affectionate, and was even eating a few dry kibbles. Tuesday the 10th she had her one week checkup: the incision site is clean, the tube remains perfectly placed; her jaundice is significantly improved; they're still worried about her weight, and increased her daily food.

This is a longterm effort: Mama has to have the tube in until she's been eating normally for a minimum of two weeks, because the tube longevity is fantastic and insertion is the big stressor/health risk. She doesn't get bloodwork redone for another week—it's too early to get a reliable read on the effect of treatment.

But, in brief, Mama is alive now and she probably wouldn't be otherwise, and everyone (cat and people) are coping well with her treatment.
juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (I should have been born a cat)
Warning for discussion of pet health issues.

Mamakitty's always had a complex relationship with food, but her eating slowed to a near stop a few days ago, so we took her into the vet; she has a pretty sick liver. We had to make some weighty choices (between euthanasia, attempting at-home care with little probable success, and opting for expensive, effortful longterm care), and decided to pursue treatment, which meant an overnight vet stay for fluids followed by anesthesia & feeding tube insertion, and the beginning of a number of months of regular medication and feeding times.

She did totally fine at the vet, came home groggy, is still very tired, but is doing fine with the tube and feeding. Her chance for recovery goes up every day we get food into her, and without treatment she probably would have died.

I'm not taking pictures of the bandaged, exhausted kitty, because she has enough stressors right now. This is healthy, gorgeous Mama:



This comes on the heels of—god, I can't even say; I've been in a depressive episode for 6+ months, my sister is very ill, my extended family is fairly ill; I am so far beyond exhaustion that I can no longer describe it. But this is a miracle cat and we are doing right by her, with no regrets. I figure we changed her life once already, when we took her in. We can try our damnedest to do it again.

Good thoughts are welcome. Advice is 10000% absolutely not welcome unless you have dealt with this exact thing (liver issues in cats and/or cats with feeding tubes) before.
juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (I should have been born a cat)
Following a seizure or heart attack or similar cataclysmic event that left him physically impaired, Dee had Spike euthanized on March 23rd. He was two months shy of 19 years old. More. )

Mamakitty reached her two month quarantine mark, had negative results on her second round of viral tests, and has joined the household! It only took about one day of supervised cat socialization before I felt comfortable letting everyone have free access to the entire house and each other. Mama is settling in beautifully. The only roadbumps are ones I expected: when Gillian is annoyed or feisty, he tries to take it out by chasing other cats; Mama is a little skittish and uncertain around Gillian and August, and remains easily startled by sudden sound or movement.

But while there is no cat cuddling, neither have there been scuffles; at most, there's bit of hissing. Mama has learned to get excited for foodtime (sometimes she even meows!); she eats and sleeps in Dee's room. She's turned out to be surprisingly playful—perhaps because play is still so novel, she's even more active than Gillian. She's sweet and cuddly, and learning that she doesn't need to jump off the windowsill or bed and go hide whenever someone enters the room. In short, she's learning to enjoy the freedom of the house and growing comfortable with it, and us, and the other cats—and what it means to be an indoor cat who has safe places and soft warm places and people who have love and toys and treats. She is still timidly exploring downstairs, and still adjusting, but both Dee and I are delighted to see how well she's doing. She retains the markers of a cat that was outdoors and unsafe for many years, but this is a good home for her and we all know it.

I've been feeling a little strange, lately; I'm not sure if it's back pain or depression, or both or neither, or just a minor strangeness I'm wallowing in, but I've mostly just been staying in and playing too much TERA and reading a lot. I don't feel awful about it. If I disappear from the universe for a few days it's not the end of the world (and not really that different from any other day).
juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (I should have been born a cat)
Busy weekend!

The 31st was Devon's and my 10th anniversary, which, yes, is impressive. Unfortunately a coworker quit a few days before, and it's the middle of a lot going on at work, so he only came up for two and a half days during which a lot else went on. We hope to have a longer time together next week or around Valentine's Day, and maybe actually do something to celebrate ten years. (I say this glibly, but the truth is I'm upset about the uncelebrated anniversary. I hadn't seen Devon since Christmas and would appreciate doing something a bit more concrete for these celebrations, especially such a big one—I just don't have the spoons to orchestrate anything myself.)

More to the point, Devon came up and three of Dee's Washington friends came down for the weekend because we all went to see Emilie Autumn on Sunday. The concert will be in a subsequent post, because I have Thoughts. But it was a good visit.

In part because of anniversary-related anxiety/depression, in part because my back has been pretty awful lately, I was chronically low on spoons over the weekend. I would honestly be surprised if this were ever not the case. It still managed to be the time with this group that I was most myself (quiet girl with sudden complex opinions! instead of just quiet girl), which helps; it helped also to load up on pain meds pre-concert. I now have plenty of quiet time to recharge, although the fact that Devon is also gone sours that.

It was a bit hard on Mamakitty: the first time she got shut in a bathroom with Devon alone she panicked, scrambled up to the windowsill leaving clawmarks on the wall behind her, and tried to escape out the bathroom window. When I went in there to calm her down she meowed emphatically in a way that can directly be translated to "PLEASE OPEN THIS WINDOW THAT I MAY ESCAPE." Dee and I forget, because we got to know her when she was outside and unconstrained, but she is still fairly skittish. We ended up putting her in Dee's room (with Spike, who was near-insensible to her presence) for a chunk of time so everyone could use the shower, etc., without traumatizing the cat. She was a little on edge on Monday, but she's back in the bathroom now and asking for cuddles.

Odi was surprisingly good, despite disrupted schedules and many visitors. Gillian slept with the guests downstairs. I let August sleep on my special Juu-only no-cats-allowed blanket because I am a pushover and always need to apologize for inviting guests into her home.

Washington folks got in Saturday early afternoon; that evening we took public transport into downtown and went to Powell's and dinner. It was my first time taking the MAX, and minus the drunken post-Blazers crowd I loved it and would be happy to use it again—it may run less frequently, but it's such a lovely quick shot across town, especially compared to the roundabout route of the bus. I found two books at Powell's, both new to me and neither of which are in the local library system. (These days I prefer to buy books in three categories: authors I know and love and want to own everything by forever; books I've read before and love enough to reread a dozen times; books I suspect I will like enough to own, which are not in the Portland or Corvallis library systems. Inter-library loan exists but lacks the convenience of local lending, so buying some not-at-library books without reading them is a justifiable risk. These books were category 1 and 3, and totaled $7.) As usual after Powell's, we went to Deschutes Brewery for dinner—busy on a Saturday night, but as good as always. The only real hangup of the evening was the learning curve for the MAX, which mostly went waiting twenty-five minutes for our ride home to show up.

The concert was Sunday. All the women save me wore fantastic corseted outfits; I wore one of my best dresses, a long black sleeveless thing with a square neckline and corset lacing in the back, and for once actually felt ... content with my self-presentation. The only major problem with the concert was transportation: We intended to take a cab for convenience sake. Doors opened at 7:30; when we called to schedule they said the cab may be up to half an hour late, so we scheduled a 6:00 pickup. At 6:30 they weren't there; at 6:40 we called, and they said it could be another half hour; at 7:10 we called and they said they still hadn't even located a driver. We took two cars out there ourselves with minimal fuss and no problems finding parking, and got there well before the show started, so nothing was lost, but here is your announcement: WARNING WARNING boycott Broadway Cab at all costs, they are so unwilling to lose your business that they will not even tell you they are an hour and a half late locating a cab, good grief.
juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (I should have been born a cat)
Mama just had her initial vet visit! She got a microchip and flea treatment and rabies/distemper vaccines; she is also FIV/FeLV negative; she's in fantastic overall health, at a good weight, no ear mites, good heart and insides and yay. This is the best of all possible outcomes, and she was even good at the vet—skittish, happiest if mostly covered by a towel, but surprisingly calm and not at all aggressive.

I've provided bits and pieces of Mama's backstory, but now that Dee's adopted her we've heard a bit more detail from the neighbor who was looking after Mama. There's still gaps in our knowledge, but as it stands... )

We're still planning to do a two month quarantine, like we did for Gillian. Gillian had a possible (but unlikely) previous injury when we first found him, so there was a bit more concern about incubating viruses; Mamakitty isn't at such high risk, but a two month quarantine will give her, as it did Gillian, lots of time to bond with us, explore the house without interacting with other cats, and learn August and Gillian's scent. Gillian's introduction to August was largely drama-free, and I think his quarantine contributed to that. Hopefully it'll have the same positive effect on Mamakitty.

Dee'll buy a FURminator soon and I can begin the gleeful process of taming Mama's crazy fur; she also has a few mats that need trimmed out. The vet trimmed her nails; we'll want to upkeep that if at all possible.

Mama has been doing beautifully in the bathroom. She prefers to hide under things—the bench, the towel rack: low-down, covered safe dens. But she comes out for pettings, and she's learning to put most of her body in a lap so she can purr and drool and cover your nice black clothes with calico fur. So far she's been quiet and relatively uninterested in leaving the one room; this may be subject to change as she adapts.

All in all, healthy safe happy cat who will continue to be one. This is the best news.
juushika: Photograph of the torso and legs of a female-bodied figure with a teddy bear. (Bear)
ALERT ALERT MAMAKITTY IS IN THE BATHROOM

Dee and I took Odi into St. Johns today, to stop by Starbucks and drop books by the library; it hovered and then dropped below freezing, and my fingers are still just cold enough that it's hard to type. Here at the house, the upstairs bathroom is toasty warm and Mama is surprisingly calm for a cat in a new situation; I lifted her onto Gillian's microfleece blanket and she kneeded it, pressed her cheek onto it, stretched out on it all comfortable and warm. We wanted to bring her this winter in part because Dee wanted to adopt her (of course) and in part to spare her another year of cold and rain, and while Gillian and financials set that back a bit this is all very right. We bring light into the winter so early, and then January and February stretch cold and dark before us—but in the midst of freezing temperatures, we brought a fluffy sweet kitty into the house.

When I sing aloud to Florence + the Machine, Odi (in his crate downstairs) hears me and whines.

I should charge my camera battery and then CAT PICTURES.

But yep. Mamakitty in the bathroom. (She'll be Dee's, not mine, but I'm giving her her own tag [rather than putting her on the pets: not mine tag] because she'll be an about-the-house cat and I imagine will show up in a number of posts and pictures.)
juushika: Photograph of the torso and legs of a female-bodied figure with a teddy bear. (Bear)
I was playing Animal Crossing and thinking late-summer thoughts this evening, about to wrap up, when I glanced out the front window and saw Mamakitty's tail whisking by the corner. (Should you need a refresher: this is Mamakitty.)

Here's an open secret (secret insofar as I'm afraid that if I say it will happen, something will go horribly wrong; but if I keep a veil of "probably not definitely," then I cannot be disappointed): Dee and I are planning to adopt Mama when the weather gets cold this year. We felt awful for her in the chilly, raining winter last year—and in the intervening months, Odi will have more time to grow up and learn to be not quite so OMG A CAT A CAT. But this is an idea we've been flirting with for some time, and all my caution aside it will most likely happen, and I can't wait. In preparation for adopting her, Dee's begun feeding her—taking over the duty from our next door neighbor. It's heartbreaking, the number of cats we're now feeding on the front porch: fascinating to watch while eating breakfast, but you just don't know how many neighborhood strays/outdoor cats there are until you're providing food.

After the tail sighting, I grabbed a few treats and went outside. One of the cats that eats the food is a skinny almost all-black shorthaired beast that I'd thought was skittish—but after I sat on the porch for a few minutes that kitty just came over to me and demanded in-depth scritches. So many scritches, in fact, that when Mamakitty came out from under the porch the black kitty batted at her with a territorial NO MY PEOPLE HANDS MY TOUCHIES. I did some wide-armed dual-cat scratching to pacify everyone until black kitty got bored, and then it was just me and Mama.

When I tried to go back inside she stared at me through the window screen and made me feel sad, so I ended up spending quite some time with her and she got oh so many treats.

You can sense the death of summer, now. The hundred degree days have passed (fingers crossed and fate willing); apples are falling from the tree out front, startling Mama with each thick thump. I found an over-eager red maple leaf on a tree when I walked the dog today. It's not imminent autumn, but it's the inkling of it: end-summer dry deadness promising a blaze of color; early harvest promising abundance.

The gray wood and white rails of the porch, those dead dry leaves, our seedy and still beautiful front garden all flatter Mama, bringing out the calico in her coat and the contrasting white blaze. She's a beauty, this cat, and absolutely ridiculous. She's fluffy and stout, a round thing; she gets awful mats, but our neighbor has been brushing them out of her and that means, one day, I'll be able to do the same (I love grooming animals way more than a simple "love" would imply). She's skittish, but loves treats and cuddles; she'll reach her paws towards you if you try to walk away, and when she's happy she drools so much that she leaves polkadots on the floor. All cats are perfect, but this one is especially magical and she'll fit right in to our house of strange people and weirder beasts.

But today she was right at home on our porch in the cool breezes at the dying end of summer.

That's nice, Juu, you say; how about some pictures? Well, okay.

Mamakitty through the window. )

On the porch with Mamakitty, 1

Hanging with Mamakitty on the porch, +2. )

With bonus:

August drinking from a water glass
Oh where, oh where has my cat's dignity gone
Oh where, oh where can it be...

For the record, this was a whole lot funnier before August knocked over a glass, spilling water onto my keyboard and causing apparently permanent damage: the "p" has been broken for a week, and the primary enter button seems to come and go. How many words really do use p, you ask? SO MANY WORDS and I have to use the onscreen keyboard to complete all of them.
juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (I should have been born a cat)
Mamakitty on the porch
We had a visitor today.

Forgive the shitty snapshots—I still have not read the manual for my new camera (soon!) and I am shooting half-blind (and very confused) as a result. Forgive my (relative) brevity: I'm dealing with a resurgence of my on/off repetitive stress wrist pain.

Do you remember Mamakitty? She's the neighborhood stray who went from wary to running across the yard for treats, although she's still skittish. Today she was out on the front porch, which she does sometimes although we usually see her out back. I gave treats and pets, but she was jumpier than usual—perhaps because it was a new environment for interacting.

More to the point, August was downstairs with me and so was able to stare intently at Mama through the window (rather than infer her presence through the back door)—or at least play a joint game of pretending to be horribly unconcerned about that other cat.

+3, and more blather. )

That has been your daily dose of picspam. Perhaps one day the pics themselves will go back to not sucking.
juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (I should have been born a cat)
I am barely conscious and I can already tell it's gonna be a fuck my life sort of day, so here, have a picture of a kitty.

Meet mamakitty
Meet Mamakitty.

Mamakitty is a medium/longhair calico tabby stray that our neighbor (the other half of the duplex) has been looking after. If I remember correctly, when the neighbor began to do so Mama was pregnant (thus the name) [ETA: see comments for a more accurate bit of background]; she's since been spayed and eartipped, and gets daily meals on our neighbor's porch. Mama was initially pretty skittish and shy around the two of us, but after a few months she got used to seeing Dee and me around, and was willing to come up to us if we had food bribes, and then turned out to be the most lovable ball of fluff—she's still wary of unexpected movement and won't take treats out of hand, but she will run over to us and look expectant and turn into a purring weaving pet-me floof creature. Then she took to sitting on our back porch and staring up at the door with a look of "please" on her face. She's a remarkable cat, what you might call big-boned, stout and thick but compactly so, and you just know all that floof and fullness is what keeps her warm at night, and she's so beautiful. It's a hard thing for both of us not to take her in, and she'd probably do well indoors as long as she had a private space to hide in and was able to set the terms for social interaction. But she has the best of a bad situation with one and a half households looking after her and a relatively outdoor cat-safe neighborhood (insofar as there is such a thing) to live in.

And she's a love.

+1 more. )

While I'm posting snapshots of horrible quality, I might as well include two of the various resting positions of August.

August pancake
Back when it wasn't too cold to keep her blanket in the window: It's an August pancake.

+1 more. )

Adopt one today! Adopt one today! Adopt one today!

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juushika: Drawing of a sleeping orange cat. (Default)
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