Metro Monday?

Quick.... picture metro Detroit!  Can you see it?  If you have no working knowledge of Detroit, substitute what you know about other major cities and create a picture in your mind.  Got it?   OK, did it look something like this?

My Detroit... I see this nearly every single day.

The metro area surrounding Detroit is built on a grid of mile-marked roads that run east-west and fan upward in number as you drive north.  These start with 5 Mile Road (don't ask me why), pass the famous 8 Mile Road which is the border between the city and the suburbs, and go all the way north to 34 Mile Road in my area.

My house is just south of 26 Mile Road.  When I was a kid growing up south of 5 Mile Road, this area might as well have been Outer Mongolia or Timbuktu.  As the suburbs creep northward, neighborhoods have been built in the countryside.  My particular area is an interesting mix of rural and urban.  Brand new subdivisions and schools popping up between barns.  If I drive 26 Mile Road to my destination, I pass farms of all shape and sizes.  It's quieter here... a little less traffic, a lot less stress while driving.  We get the best of both worlds, city convenience mixed with bucolic charm.

Leaving my neighborhood.  Looks like any random new-ish subdivision... wide streets, brick houses, young trees.  Check out the red building.

The old barn, complete with Mobil advertising, has been surrounded by our neighborhood.  Complete with farmhouse... they have horses too!

This barn, which you saw in the very first picture of the post, is just a few miles away on the way to my younger daughter's elementary school.

I prefer to drive these country roads and get there a bit more slowly than finding the nearest Interstate to race down... probably a good thing since it takes me at least 25 minutes to reach any of roughly half-dozen freeways to travel through and around the city.  Last week, during an epic heat wave, the kids and I decided we needed fresh ice cream from the dairy.  This is where we ended up:

Wonder which flavor she makes?  ;-)

I had fully intended to get "classic" Detroit photos this week, but life has a crazy way of intervening.  Between 100-degree temperatures, frighteningly intense storms, and a new batch of kittens with health issues, I stayed closer to home.  But I'm working on it for next week!

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The Health Report

Penny bounced back quickly after her spay (re-spay? spay attempt?).  She is completely back to normal... snuggling, friendly, playful.  The plan is to introduce her slowly to the permanent residents over the next few days so we can open up our family room and return to life with only one foster room in the house.

The kittens (sigh... the kittens) are hanging in there.  I'm seeing steady improvement in many places:  No fleas!! I haven't heard Henry wheeze in days.  Porter's eyes are clearing up beautifully.

The ringworm has become a bit more challenging.  All three kittens bloomed into ringworm spots Thursday and Friday.  Eloise and Henry healed very quickly with medication.  The sores are gone, their skin is smoothing out.  They act as if nothing happened.  Porter, however, looks like he's going through a war.  It blossomed on his face, around both eyes and his mouth.  He ended up with a spot on each of his front legs too which appears to be the same spot he'd use to wash and dry his face.  Some moments, I swear he's looking better.  Others, I want to cry for him.  He's still playful and a sweet snuggling baby... although he is getting skitterish and shy because of the frequent need for bathing and medication.  All I want to do is kiss him and tell him everything will be okay (and then I worry about the health of my lips if I do).

The good news is that the vet has decided they really only need the baths 2-3 times per week (whew... they weren't all that happy about it).

"Why, Lady? Why??? What did we do to you???"

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Porter

Porter, also known as Pork Chop, Porter the Porker, and Porter Prince, is approximately 4 weeks older than Henry and Eloise.  He's three months old (roughly 12-13 weeks old right now).  He is noticeably bigger, outweighing Henry by half a pound and Eloise by a full pound-and-a-half.  Because of that, I sometimes refer to him as "Cousin Porter" but he really does fit into this litter beautifully in terms of personality.  He loves Henry and Eloise and they love him.

When I first met Porter, I was shocked at the resemblance to another one of our fosters in terms of markings.

Look at that sweet white marking on his back.  Almost looks like a little heart!

Another beautiful kitty with a white mark in the center of her back.

Nose splotch on a white face.

Nose splotch on a white face.  If I wasn't already acutely aware that she's been spayed, I might think she had a kitten after all.

Porter is the quietest of the three hellions living in my front room.  When I enter the room, I'm greeted by a stampede of kittens telling me all about their day, demanding attention, affection, and food.  Eloise is the opera singer, capable of holding out a note for much longer than you would think possible.  Henry is the consistent peeper.  Porter throws in an occasional squeak if he feels he's being ignored.  

For the past couple days though, Porter has hung back a bit... afraid to have me touch him in case I might have medicine in my hand or a bath on my mind.  But Sunday evening, he started to come back around and we're still working on bringing him out of his shell again.  He has a purr that you can hear across the room and isn't afraid to use it.  He's the Washington kitty that gives kisses.  He likes to sit on my lap and purr until Henry shows up to start a wrestling match between my legs.  He's meeker than wild child Henry, but that's not necessarily a bad thing ;-)  I found a ping pong ball under one of the kids' beds that has quickly become Porter's favorite toy.

I purposefully didn't include many pictures of Porter's face because I don't want you to worry,  He looks worse than it is and (unless I'm putting medication on it or bathing it) he acts like his face is just fine.  You'll see more and more of his beautiful mug as we pass the time here.

Surprises and Setbacks

Hmmm.... How to describe Thursday's events in Teeny Tiny Tabby Town?  Newsworthy?  Interesting?  Odd?  Unbelievable?  All of the above?  Sure, why not?  

After a very late night of neighborhood fireworks that shook up the animal population here, I made the groggy trip to the vet first thing Thursday morning with Penny and the munchkins in tow.  Our not-so-pregnant princess Penny was due to be spayed and receive her vaccinations, taking her next step to adoption.  

You remember Penny's story, right?  She came to our rescue "pregnant" from an Up North animal shelter.  When our vet couldn't detect the pregnancy, we had them shave her belly and look for a spay scar.  Finding none, Penny came back home for a 4-week waiting period to either deliver her kittens or prove herself not-so-pregnant.  Since her month was up and we were still kitten-free, I scheduled the spay and vaccines for Thursday.

Showing off her shaved, non-pregnant belly

My normally quiet and reserved Penelope became an opera singer on the way to the vet clinic.  I should have known she was trying to tell me something... something important.  But since I don't speak fluent feline, we kept driving to the clinic and checked in for her procedure.

A few hours later, while I was in the physical therapy clinic rehabbing my elbow, my cell phone rang.  It was the vet office.  "The doctor was wondering how long you've had Penny," she asked, "Has Penny ever gone into heat while she's been with you?"  After answering "Since Memorial Day weekend" and "No, she's never gone into heat here," the vet tech dropped a bombshell....  "Well, we're in the middle of Penny's spay and the doctor didn't find a uterus."

Um... what???  Insert a photo of me looking shocked here.

"Well, I tried telling you..."  PS... this is not me ;-)

Our dear sweet darling Penelope, who everyone thought was pregnant in May, was not only NOT pregnant but she has already been spayed.  It's mystifying.  There was absolutely no visible spay scar.  There was also no uterus, no ovaries, and nothing left to remove.  The vet stitched our girl back up (I imagine she will definitely have a visible spay scar now), gave her the vaccinations and pain medications, and sent her to recovery.

My opera singer was completely silent on the way home.  She's still groggy and a bit unsteady on her feet (it's an hour after arriving home as I write this), but she's resting comfortably at home.  We're going to take it very easy this weekend.

"Why is everything tilted?"

"I can't believe this is happening to me."

"I think I need to lie down for a while... maybe until next Tuesday."

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The kittens had an entirely different kind of adventure.  Tuesday afternoon, after I had them home for just under 24 hours and was ready to declare them flea free and all systems go for recovery, I received a phone call from my fearless foster leader Paula.  She had taken the remaining kittens from the home where my trouble triplets were rescued.  The remaining babies had ringworm, which I have since learned is neither a worm nor necessarily in the shape of a ring.  My kittens needed to be checked for this highly contagious fungus.  They were put on the vet schedule for immediately following the holiday, which coincidentally was when Penny was headed to the clinic herself.

"Hey!  I just got here!  I don't think I like where this story is going..."

"I'm quite comfy here, thank you.  I don't need to go to the vet."

"Okay, I'll go.  But can we take the window with us?  This is my most favorite spot ever."

I held onto hope on Tuesday and Wednesday... the kittens with ringworm amazingly did not have fleas, which seemed impossible since my babies were so completely infested with them.  While I was careful to make certain I kept clean and avoided cross-contamination with the other animals in the house, I told myself that my kittens couldn't have been infected, that they probably were kept isolated from these others and everything would turn out just fine.  

I received a second call from the vet clinic Thursday afternoon with the news on my kittens.  They went under the black light... and they glowed.  ARG!!!!!!!!!  I was still savoring being flea free and now we had fungus.  That will bring you back down to earth quickly.  Each kitten has a small infection... Eloise and Henry on their ears; Porter on his muzzle.  I brought them home and let them loose in the foster room to run off a day's worth of pent up energy.

If I thought the treatment for fleas pushed all the buttons of my OCD tendencies, the treatment of the ringworm just might shove me over the cliff.  Bathing each kitten in medicated shampoo once per day for 14-21 days (Say, what????? If I had a photo of myself looking shocked, I would insert it again right here)  and applying ointment to the infected spots.  It's a very good thing that I already love them very much.

Ringworm is completely unknown territory for me.  If  you have experience dealing with it, please feel free to give advice as often as you like.  The kittens are under strict quarantine and I am enforcing strenuous handling and hand-washing rules with the rest of the family to avoid contaminating the other critters in the house.  

I'm heading to the store to purchase anti-fungal medications to treat my hands this month.  In an excellent stroke of luck, my husband is leaving on Saturday with the kids for a week's vacation to North Carolina so there will be more control over the kittens' environment and their health regimen.  I'm hoping that they're mostly healed by the time the family returns.

***I've always called this week "Sanity Restoration".  My husband is frequently deployed and away from home.  One week per year, he plans a trip (usually camping, but this time meeting family at the beach) and takes the kids away without mom so I can get a much needed break.  I'm not sure how relaxing this week will be with Operation Destroy Fungus underway, but at least I'll have extra time to concentrate on the battle.

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Today was supposed to be our day to introduce Porter.  Because today's post is so ridiculously news filled and potentially conversation provoking, I'm waiting for his post until Monday.  Here's a picture of him to get you through the weekend ;-)

"Hey, wait a minute!  I have a complaint!!  I was supposed to be today!!  Henry got his day.  Eloise got her day.  How come I have to wait all the way until Monday?"

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FRIDAY MORNING UPDATE

After talking with Paula, I've learned that out of all the kittens taken from that house our babies are the healthiest (isn't that frightening?) and have the least amount of ringworm "glow".  I had noticed a spot on each of them... Eloise and Henry on the tip of the ears and Porter near his nose.  But (and here is the great news)  after one application of the medication, the spots have cleared up!  I'm not naive enough to believe that the ringworm is gone... we'll keep up with the program and be careful about contamination.  But it gives me hope and that's good enough for today.

Penny is much like herself this morning.  She's eating, drinking, purring, and seeking out affection.  Her information is being put on the website this weekend, so she's officially adoptable now.  If you know of anyone in southeastern Michigan who's looking for a fabulous cat, send them our way please :-)

Elegant Eloise

It only took me 38 hours to heed the lesson imparted by other kitten fosters...  Always wear pants in the foster room.  Heck, I want one of the suits that attack dog trainers wear.  Forget weapons of mass destruction.  Kitten claws can take down an army.

"I'm sorry, Lady.  Did you really think we were just sweet little fuzzballs with marshmallow fluff filling?  I come programmed with mad-Ninja skills!"

The introduction of pants appears to have made them even wilder.  Just as McDonalds is the official fast food of the Olympic Games, my pants have become the official playground of the front room.  They are part climbing pole, part monkey bars, and (when I'm sitting on the floor with my knees raised) an excellent tunnel for use in stalking your brother or sister.

Please ignore the scattered cat litter on the floor.  Concentrate instead on the adorable baby kittens playing peek-a-boo underneath the curtain.

Pictures are getting harder to come by... as they get healthier, they get blurrier too.  Just when I think I've got a good shot, something distracts them and they're gone at the speed of light.  The convinced my camera is the BEST TOY EVER.  The dangling lens cap and camera strap are distracting and need attacking frequently.  If I leave the camera on the floor, they swarm it for a thorough investigation.  I may need to bring a second camera or my iPhone to get a shot of that.

Did I mention that they're into everything?

"Hey guys!  Look!!!!  The lady bought cans at the store!!!!"

"I'm sorry, Lady.  I cannot allow you to put away these cans until you pay the proper toll.  One can plus a snuggling ought to do it."

We're off first thing this morning to take Penny to the vet for her spay.  The kittens are coming along to get a quick check.  Apparently, the exams of the remaining kittens to come out of their foster situation revealed a bit more to look for in these guys.  I anticipate all will be well...  Porter's eyes are clearing up; The fleas are meeting their match; Henry's wheezing seems to be quieting; Their energy levels and appetites are on the rise.  In short, our babies are ready to launch a blitzkrieg of epic proportions on anyone who is willing to step foot into their space.  Even Norman seems okay with staying in the foyer (and there's kitten crunchies in there!!!)

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Elegant Eloise

Our Miss Eloise is the petite princess of the foster room.  Shyer and more reserved than her brothers, she's the last to purr and doesn't need or push for as much attention from me.  But when she wants it, our Weezy has the loudest, most plaintive demand of the bunch.  She demanded that I drop everything yesterday afternoon to cuddle the itty bitty baby.  Of course I obliged her... laundry and vacuuming are overrated anyway.

"Ha!  So I made my sad little baby kitty face at the Lady and whined.  She laid down on the floor for over an hour so I could suck on her arm and purr.  Is she an easy target or what??"

Our teeny tiny tabby girl got her name from the Eloise children's books.  I have always wanted a kitten named Eloise who would wreak havoc.  While she's a bit more reserved with people, Eloise can take down both of her much bigger brothers in a quick second.  ((The boys would like you to know that they are merely playing gently with their sister and can handle her quite nicely if they got it in mind... which they will, in about 4.7 seconds.))

Eloise loves her brother Henry.

"Yes, I love him.  But don't tell him.  His head is big enough already."

She has the most nicknames so far of any kitten in the room: Ellie, Weezy (Jefferson, not a health issue... she's the healthiest kitten in the room too), Ouiser (Steel Magnolias is only the best chick flick ever, and our girl has a bit of Ouiser sass to boot!).  I'm sure we'll come up with a few more in the next day or so.

A study in stripes... Eloise is the smaller, darker, stripier tabby in the front.  Henry is the bigger, lighter, more spotted tabby underneath her.

Eloise is a brown tabby... darker and stripier than her brother Henry.  She has exceptionally short legs and resembles a Dachshund when she strolls across the room.  I'd say they're about half the length of Henry's legs.  He towers over her when they stand next to each other.  Ouiser also has the biggest, most bat-like ears I've ever seen on a not-quite 2 pound kitten.  I fully expect her to take flight any moment now.  The size of her ears and the length of her legs combined with her huge round eyes give her a unique appearance.  She tends to look overly serious in just about every picture I take, but trust me that the girl has spunk and personality and she's very, very happy to be here with her brothers.

Brothers to the left of me.  Brothers to the right.  Here she is... stuck in the middle with them.

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Update

Penny and the babies are currently at the vet's office for the day.  I wasn't expecting them to keep the kittens, but it makes sense considering it's surgery day.  They will squeeze in the babies' exam when they can and I'll bring them home with Penny late this afternoon.  I will update both the blog and the Facebook page with the news when they arrive home (and will, of course, have the full story in tomorrow's post).  Have a great day, everyone!

Update, Part 2

Penny and the babies are home from their day at the vet.  Penny is still groggy, but resting comfortably.  The kittens are running like their tails are on fire after being confined to a cage all day.  The story is long... one part complicated, one part unbelievable.  I'll tell the whole thing in tomorrow's post.

Handsome Henry

What a difference 24 hours can make in the life of a small kitten!  Our babies went from wheezy, sneezy, flea ridden messes to happy-go-lucky, animated, snugglebugs in just one day.

I'm not quite willing to declare the issue 100% resolved, but I think (I hope!) that we are just about to the other side of the flea drama.  Porter and Henry were clean all day following their dose of Frontline.  Eloise had noticeably fewer and fewer fleas throughout the day.  By mid-afternoon, everything that I took off her was already dead.  By dinnertime, there was nothing to remove from her fur.  I will remain at kamikaze cleaning pace for the next few days to make sure they are gone for good.

Remember when I said that I was just waiting for Tommy to bring down the living room blinds?  I think the kittens will finish off the foster room blinds first.  Notice Miss Eloise sizing up the end of the blind cord for her attack.

While one level up, Porter works on another set of cords.  Henry is trying so hard to attack both cord and sister down below that he's turned himself into a blur.

"Bringing down the blinds is tiring.  Hey Henry,  you take a turn while I rest here on your back."

And here I thought Henry and Eloise were the troublemakers.  Turns out Henry doesn't care who his partner in crime is... as long as they're willing to raise a bit of a ruckus.

((Psst... don't worry, I hung up the cords after I was done shooting the photos to protect both blinds and kitten))

Miss Penelope is enjoying her new digs upstairs in the family room.  She traded the full wall of windows for softer furniture and more frequent companions.  Crazy thunderstorms alternating with temperatures in the mid-90s kept the kids inside for the most part on Tuesday.  Between the television, the board games, and the books, Penny's room became the cool kids' hangout.  Sleeping bags and pillows moved in on Tuesday night.  I imagine Penny will be up until at least 2 a.m. giggling with the girls at her very first slumber party.

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Handsome Henry

And you'd better believe he knows how beautiful he is!!

For the rest of the week, I'll be spotlighting one of our fabulous kittens per day.  Leading off is our sweet boy Henry. Henry is a brown tabby with more of a marbled look.  He's covered in dashes, dots, and squiggles.  His coloring is much lighter than his sister Eloise and his legs MUCH longer.  He seriously looks twice her height.  I will endeavor to photograph both the markings and the height discrepancy for a later post.

Henry is a remarkable bit of sugary-sweet baby mixed neatly with hell-raising spitfire.  He is the first kitten to charge the door when I enter the foster room.  He has complaints... many of them.  Henry's demands usually include "Pet me!", "Hold me!", "Snuggle me!", "Kiss me!" and "Don't get up!"  I've very happy to oblige since in return I receive purring that's as loud as my son's snare drum in the school marching band.  ((Seriously, did you all know how loud baby kittens purr??  Sheesh, OSHA should recommend ear plugs for this job!))

Our boy never met a toy he didn't like, but he's especially fond of the track ball.  He's found a serious wrestling partner in Porter.  With the leaps, pirouettes, and sheer brute force that Henry incorporates into his wrestling moves, I anticipate a long and storied career with the USA Olympic gymnastics, or the Boishoi Ballet, or maybe even Mixed Martial Arts.   He is absolutely obsessed with my necklace, my bangs, and my nose and takes every opportunity to swipe at or nip each of the above.  The scratches on my neck and nose?  Henry.

Henry is the classroom monitor.  He must know everything that is happening at every moment in time.  Unfortunately, he takes this to extremes by following Porter and Eloise into the litter box... digging holes for them, burying as they go, and playing with their tails at inopportune moments.

Hey lady... that's a nice camera you have.  How about you put it down and snuggle me?

Henry has a gravelly, frog-like meow that's much like Cap'n Floof over at Love & Hisses (scroll down and play the video if you haven't already... it's great!).  I can't decide whether this will be his normal speak or if the congestion from his upper respiratory crud is affecting his voice.  Henry's still a bit wheezy when he plays hard but it doesn't slow him down one bit. 

We're kicking back to relax with kittens for the holiday today.  Here's hoping that whatever you do is safe, relaxing, and enjoyable.   Check back tomorrow for an in-depth look at our next kitten... same Bat-time, same Bat-channel  ;-)

They're teeny. They're tiny. They're tabbies. And they're here!!!!!

As you all know by now, I have been eagerly awaiting the arrival of kittens to the front room.  I assumed that we would be waiting until after Penny was spayed and vaccinated later this week, but apparently the universe had other plans.

I received a call early Tuesday afternoon from Paula, the wonderful lady who runs our rescue.  There was an emergency situation.  Was there any way that I could meet her at the vet's office and bring a few kittens home with me?  Um.... YEAH!  We shuffled the feline sleeping arrangements, moved Penny upstairs into our family room, and cleaned the front room in preparation for our new arrivals.

I will admit that I was not completely prepared for the situation that awaited me at the vet's office.  My new charges were rescued just that day... from a rescue.  Apparently, the foster mom who had my babies was overrun with kittens.  She took on much more than she could handle on her own and waited far too long to ask for help.  Our rescue is in the process of taking more than a dozen kittens from her home, in varying states of health, sorting out their issues, and getting them into new foster homes asap.  We have three kittens here... a mixed litter that we are combining into one (a pair of siblings and a singleton).

The wee ones were sleepy, sluggish messes to behold.  Our babies have a touch of upper respiratory infections.  One of the boys has a set of goopy eyes that we will be medicating for the next week.  They have worms.  The worst part, though, is that my munchkins were covered in creepy, crawly fleas.  I'm not squeamish, but this was disgusting, unnerving, and angering to see.  The boys were immediately dosed with CapStar at the vet's (our petite princess is too small to receive the meds) and each of them received a bath with Dawn dish soap in the laundry room sink as soon as we walked through the door.  Only one of them drew blood in the whole experience.  I'll try not to hold it against him.  I've only seen a few half-dead bugs on them or their bedding in the hours since.  Each will get a dose of Frontline first thing Tuesday morning.  The not-so-teeny-tiny set (already on regular Frontline) got another fresh dose right away.   After I sterilize their bedding and give the foster room another good vacuuming later today, I think we will be set.  In the meantime, I have already vacuumed three times, done 2 loads of laundry, sprayed down the car and carrier, and checked the kittens about a million times.  I'm heading to Petco first thing in the morning to pick up some DE.  I read that you can use it as a flea remedy too.  Everybody's getting some!!  And before you ask... yes, I am the mother that goes nuts and gets imaginary itches whenever a kid in my kid's class gets lice.  So I'm sitting here, itching imaginary itches, and planning to do another round of deep cleaning in the morning, just in case.

After a bath and a good nap, our babies are completely different kitties.  They are playful and adventuresome and complete snugglebugs.  I have witnessed each of them eating, drinking, and using the litter box (boy, can they use the litter box!), so I am relaxing by the minute and enjoying watching my little ones run and climb and play.

About their family name:  I have a BA in History and nearly an MA in Humanities.  I taught high school history before my kids were born.  I'm a history nerd and proud of it.  In order to keep the litters straight in the future, we figured out a plan to give them surnames of a certain order.  Especially relevant given the fact that tomorrow's the 4th of July, we are naming them after our U.S. presidents beginning at the first... George Washington.  The next litter will be Adams and so on.  

(Left to Right): Henry, Eloise, and Porter Washington snuggle into the foster room following their baths.

Henry says "Hi!" (Admit it.  You totally want to snorgle those belly spots!)

Henry's sister Eloise has some of the biggest ears that I have ever seen on a kitten.

Porter is the singleton.  He is roughly four weeks older than Henry and Eloise (they are about 8 weeks old, while he is estimated to be 12 weeks) but he is very close to Henry's size.  Goopy eyes, upper respiratory yuck, and bit more cautious than the trouble twosome, with the help of a little TLC he is already starting to blossom and is currently swinging from the upper level of the cat tree. 

Henry and Charlie are already anxious to meet.  I'll have more in-depth introductions as the week goes on.

Metro Monday

One of the great things about being a military wife is having the opportunity to travel the world. Over the past 17 years, the Air Force sent us to live in Texas, Idaho, Germany, Ohio, and Michigan.  Once you've set up house, started work, and settled the family, day-to-day life is pretty much the same as yours.  But the vacations (especially when living overseas) are exceptionally memorable.

Before my oldest daughter's 3rd birthday (and before her younger brother's 1st), my kids had been up the Eiffel Tower, fed pigeons outside the Louvre, seen Pisa and Rome, been blessed by Pope John Paul II, climbed Swiss mountains, visited fairy tale castles, and been to the Tower of London... with the Beefeaters playfully offering to find someone to baptize the baby in the chapel where Anne Boleyn is buried.  My youngest child, born almost 11 months to the day after we relocated back to the States, asked frequently as a preschooler, "But when will I be in the pictures??"  She was well aware of being left out of something magical.

One of the worst things about being a military wife is having your life uprooted on a tri-yearly basis.  Every few years, we would wait for the orders that told us where to move next.  Often you have little choice or influence in the matter.  While we awaited our orders to leave Germany, it had been indicated that we could expect a move to England next.  Needless to say, when the papers arrived with the word Ohio on them I was just a bit disappointed.  ((If you are from Ohio, I apologize for the way that sounded but I guarantee that if you had the choice to live in either England or Ohio, you'd pick England too.  By the way, I ended up with a soft spot for Ohio which is a remarkable thing for a native Michigander))  Being away from family for years at a time while your kids are small is no small issue, either.


In 2004, the Air Force offered my husband the opportunity to return home to Michigan as a full-time active duty member of the Michigan Air National Guard.  Full time employment, remaining in the military,  and coming home all in one fell swoop?  Yes, please.  Our first assignment with the guard took us on an extended tour to northern Michigan.  We bought our first house... a 1970's fixer-upper on a hill in the woods, less than a mile from a bike path that connected the entire town.  And it was so difficult to look at this view every day while driving to work every day:

So tough to spend summer days with your kids in locations like this:

Or this

Two years ago, my husband received a promotion (Higher rank = raise which always a good thing).  That promotion, however, meant that he needed to leave his position and take a command downstate.  For those unfamiliar with Michigan-speak... "Up North" is the northern portion of the lower peninsula.  I use  it to refer to anything north of the Zilwaukee Bridge or Saginaw.  "Downstate" is the southern portion of the lower peninsula, usually referring to south of Flint and generally means the Detroit area.  Don't worry, we haven't forgotten that there's an entire other peninsula... they're the "U.P." or "Yoopers" and they loving refer to us as "trolls" because we live beneath the bridge that separates us.

Traverse City and Detroit might as well be in two separate states, two separate worlds.  We were exchanging hills, beaches, and no-more-than 4 lane highways for concrete, asphalt, skyscrapers, and a daunting Interstate systems that ringed the city.  And did I mention this was Detroit???  We dragged our feet moving.  For the first year, my husband worked in Detroit and came "home" on weekends while we put our house on the market.  After ten months, the house sold and it was time for us to make our move.

The situation wasn't all bad.  In a way, I was coming home.  The daughter of a retired Detroit police lieutenant, I was born and raised on the city's west side in the days of residency requirements for city employees.  Yep, I grew up inside the city proper and lived to tell the tale.  Contrary to widespread belief, not all of Detroit is a wasteland.   Most people probably hear "Detroit" and picture this:

This house lies four blocks from my childhood home.  I was overjoyed to drive a bit farther and find this:

The house where I grew up, a bit rough around the edges and slightly worse for wear, but no victim to the urban blight and decay we all hear about.

Detroit has amazing spirit.  Even out in the suburbs, we're a bit sensitive to how it's portrayed to the nation.  Most suburban residents are only a generation or two removed from living within the city limits.  Detroit is "home" and you're far more likely to hear me say that I live in Detroit than Macomb Township (where my current home is actually located).  I think most metro residents would do the same.

So, without further ado, I introduce "Metro Monday"... a glimpse inside the good things about living in Detroit and southeast Michigan.  (Don't worry, it will be far less wordy in future weeks)

The Renaissance Center... a Detroit landmark for as long as I can remember... still magnificent in the June sunshine.  Somehow it's more impressive to me now that it was as a child.

By far, though, the best thing about discovering Detroit has been this:

There's a fabulous metropark mere minutes from my new house... hiking trails through the woods, bike paths, and

The lake, complete with two beaches for swimming.  We will be spending most of the holiday week somewhere inside this park, where it feels like home.  Woods, water, and Detroit.  I guess I am really home.

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TomCat spent much of the weekend destroying the inside of his nesting box to express his disappointment over TomKat's impending divorce.

"I really thought those two crazy kids were going to make it."

"I may just need to hang out in the laundry for a few days to recover.  Do we have any ice cream?"

Norman spends much of his day hanging out on the other side of Penny's door.  She's not quite sure what to make of this development.

"This is creepy.  Can you make him stop?"

You might think that Penny's got an admirer, but I tend to believe it's her food bowl that our old man is after. If he gets through the door, he travels in a straight line to the kibble.  After all, he's got some weight to gain!

Penny's on the spay list for later this week.  When she's healed and has been vaccinated, she will join the general population outside the foster room.  I know what this means.... do you?? Conversations are being had about the next residents of the room  ;-)