Waterworld

Boy, I tell you. It is always something with cats.

In the last couple of months Willow decided that the water bowl is her personal plaything. I'd fill it up in the mornings, and she would respond by sitting by it, pawing in the water until the bowl was mostly emptied all over the floor. I kept the bowl on the tile floor downstairs, but still.

A huge lake of water on the way to the couch was not a good situation. I skidded through puddles several times and nearly killed myself.

To say nothing of the fact that the other cats never got a chance to take a drink. The bowl was usually empty by the time they got to it, unless they wised up and ran down there to drink first. Percy usually got to it first, but after him, Willow would take over.

She didn't just paw and aerate the water. She would swipe her paw through the water with such force that it would arc out of the bowl and splash across the floor. And she would sit there and watch it, so I know she knew exactly what she was doing.

She eventually lost interest in her own bowl and started seeking out Tess' water bowl upstairs as it is bigger and metal, and I don't know, maybe she liked to look at her reflection while she was soaking my carpet.

Two instances of a completely soaked carpet prompted me to either keep Tess' bowl outside, or on top of the dresser. I'd put it down periodically in the evenings so Tess could drink.

Willow managed to get up on the dresser, despite the obstacles I set up to block the bowl and still ended up drenching the books sitting on my dresser.

Boy, was I mad.

And also, she's not allowed up there in the first place. The placement of a water bowl does not change the rules just because she is so damn spoiled that she thinks a water bowl means she can play in it, no matter what.

After I managed to keep Tess' bowl completely out of range, she went back to the smaller bowl. Day after day of wet tile was starting to get on my nerves. Then she started doing it at night too. As soon as I went to bed. I'd turn out the light, close my eyes, and like clockwork, I'd hear bloop, bloop, bloop! SPLASH!

She earned her nights in her kennel after that.

Needless to say I was getting super frustrated. I started supervising the water drinking, and removing the bowls when I wasn't home. Or if I didn't feel like watching the bowls, I'd stuff Willow in her cage. It wasn't a good situation. The cats couldn't drink whenever they wanted, and really, I couldn't just keep Willow in her cage indefinitely. Plus, making sure everyone got enough water was a full time job.

Who's codependent, me or the cats?

So finally I went online, looking for a solution. I typed into my friend Google, "How to stop cat from playing in the water bowl."

There were a ton of sites addressing this apparently very common issue.

Sheesh, if there is an issue out there, one of my cats has it or will develop it. As soon as I solve one issue, they develop another stupid habit.

Every site suggested purchasing a kitty water fountain, and one site went so far as to tell me that if I'm not currently using a fountain, I'm severely endangering my cats' health because only a fountain can ensure they ingest enough water. Cats like their water fresh, aerated, and moving, and how dare I still use a bowl which infringes on their ability to drink properly?

Well, I was really more concerned with the fact that I really don't have the time to sit around monitoring water drinking, and if I don't monitor it, Willow will empty the entire bowl on the floor and everyone will go thirsty anyway.

So I took a chance and went out to purchase a fountain. It's really cute. It's a little bucket with a water pump attached to the bottom that pushes the water up through a filter and a plastic daisy to form four streams of water, and a pool bubbling out the middle. It wasn't overly expensive, and I didn't want one of those fountains that cascades into a bowl. I think that would just exacerbate the issue. Then not only would Willow have moving water to flick around, she would still have a pool that she could swish her paw through, splattering water to the other side of the room. Plus there would be twice as much water, and she could do it all day long before the stupid thing would finally be empty.

I shuddered at the thought of that mess.

I brought the fountain home, assembled it, plugged it in, and stood back to gauge everyone's reaction.

Percy was immediately in love. He marched right over and began to suck down water like he hadn't seen any in a week. Which he probably hadn't. That poor cat drinks a gallon of water a day. People ask me if he's diabetic, but he's not. He drinks a gallon, pees a gallon, and then starts all over again. And with the recent issue of not having water constantly available to him, thanks to Willow, he probably wasn't getting enough.

So Percy was thrilled.

Willow, on the other hand, was terrified of the thing. Go figure. She wouldn't go near it. And Puckett was just too fat and lazy to haul her ass up to the kitchen where I had the fountain plugged in, so I still had to leave a water bowl out for the girls over the weekend. I figured it was fine, as I was home all weekend and could watch.

Willow doused the floor twice in the two seconds my back was turned, and I decided, "You know what? You can either get used to the fountain, or die of dehydration." It's not like she's drinking the water out of the bowl anyway. She just wants to make a mess.

I removed the bowl and ignored the irritated looks I got from both Puckett and Willow. Puckett eventually gave the cat equivalent of a shrug and gave the fountain a try. She seemed to be fine with it and went on with her life. It took Willow a day longer to finally resign herself to the fact that she is now going to have to live without a water bowl and drink from a fresh stream of aerated water.

The horror.

You'd think I was asking her to actually get in the fountain and take a bath. The drama involved when anything tiny changes around these cats. It's like the world has ended and things will never be the same.

When I last left them, all three had happily partaken in the water of the fountain and seemed quite content with it. Plus, no one has to take turns anymore. They can all drink at the same time. So I'm hoping this will solve the latest issue.

Until Willow comes up with something else stupid.

And don't worry, she will.

Why are We Depressed?

I've been reading the book, “Lost Connections: Uncovering the Real Causes of Depression – And the Unexpected Solutions” by Johann Hari. Hari is actually a world renowned journalist, not a mental health professional, and because of this he got a few bad reviews on Amazon, reviews that stated since he was only a journalist, he is ill qualified to make any assessments or conclusions in the field of mental health.

The funny thing is, if one actually reads his book, one realizes that he's not so much making assessments or conclusions as he is doing what journalists do best: trying to find answers. And because he is a journalist, he goes all in, traveling around the world, interviewing doctors and experts alike, asking the deep questions nobody really wants to ask, and researching.

He never once claims to be any kind of expert – and yet cites many of those experts and doctors in a well-researched, logical book that, when one really thinks about it, makes a lot of sense and is almost painful in its simplicity. He has thirty-six pages of notes and citations, and a full index backing up and supporting the research in his book.

I can't understand why anyone would give this book one or two stars in a review except maybe someone who is still in denial. Although one one-starred review was given strictly because the reviewer claimed Hari as an atheist, and there is no way one can not be depressed if they don't have spirituality and religion in their lives.

I discount reviews like this. They have nothing to do with the subject matter of the book, and they just make the reviewer look silly.

I have long been a skeptic of modern medicine and doctors, and no, I am not anti-vaxxer. I'm not against antibiotics or doctors or hospitals. If I break my leg, you bet your boots I'm going to call an ambulance and have my ass hauled to the emergency room to get it set, and yes, to get a nice prescription of painkillers.

I just don't believe that doctors know everything, and I don't think the almighty pharmaceutical pill is the answer to all our woes. And anyone who thinks that the pharmaceutical companies actually want to help people feel better are extremely naïve. This is a country of capitalism, and the first goal of any company is to make a profit. If you don't believe me or Hari, just YouTube an antidepressant commercial and set your stopwatch for how long it takes them to list the side effects. No, I believe if you want to feel better and healthier, it is your job to take your health into your own hands and do as much reading and researching you can to figure out what works best for you.

I've struggled with depression and anxiety for several years now, and I am in treatment for it. The one thing I absolutely refuse is to take antidepressants. That's my choice. But I understand why people do take them. As Hari points out in his book, clinical depression is defined as a chemical imbalance in the brain, as if something has gone haywire, one's supply of serotonin has run out, and one is then prescribed an antidepressant to boost serotonin levels and bring the brain back in balance.

Hari actually discusses in Chapter 2 the history of how the, as he calls it, “serotonin story” first began, and it was quite by accident. I guess this made a lot of people angry, because as long as we hang on to the idea that there is something wrong with people's brains when they are depressed, then there is an easy way to fix it (antidepressants) and we don't have to talk about it so much.

Or you just sweep the loonies under the rug with their drugs, and call them cured. I have actually likened antidepressants to a lobotomy in the past, but only in my own situation. I can't even take Midol without going a little crazy, so pharmaceuticals have never really been my bag. As Hari points out in his book, he is not trying to take away antidepressants, or tell people they can't take them. If something is helping someone, by all means, they should continue its use.

What he is saying is, what if there is more to the story than just serotonin levels? What if instead of just putting a pill shaped bandaid on a person's mental health, we dig deeper and try to discover what is really going on here?

And this is what I think is so painfully simple. It really isn't that far of a stretch to believe that someone is severely depressed after they discover their spouse of twenty years is cheating on them. Or after the death of a child. Or because of some repressed trauma from childhood. Or being fired from a job they were working for fifteen years and then suddenly, pink slip. Or even some physical illness or pain that won't go away. These people are given an allotted time to grieve, and then told to get over it and move on with their lives, as if there is some kind set-in-stone time period for grieving.

I started getting depressed about the fact that for almost a year I had constant stomach issues and no doctor was able to tell me why, and then all they did was prescribe Nexium and tell me I had acid reflux. When every single thing you put in your mouth is a perpetual minefield, that starts to weigh on your mood. It's of course not the only thing that was causing my depression, but it was a good bit of it. So I got Nexium for my stomach and Prozac for my depression, and no one, except my naturopath practitioner thought to ask, hmmmm, are these two things connected and what can we do about it?

It's ridiculous to me that more people don't wrap their heads around the fact that our bodies work as a unit. We so often treat symptoms. Stomach ache? Here's some Pepto. Allergies? Here's some Allegra. Depression? Let me get the Prozac. But is it really so hard to believe that an issue with one body part might have something to do with another body part not working right? Dr William Davis of Wheat Belly and Undoctored fame says that all health begins in the gut. When the stomach ain't happy the rest of the body is miserable. But of course people don't want to adhere to that when it means that most of what we love to eat is the number one problem. Me included. I have to give up wine? And chocolate? And horror upon horrors, CHEESE? Well, shit.

Hari outlines nine causes for depression and anxiety in his book, at least the nine he feels he has uncovered so far. There are probably many more, he writes, but these are the nine he focuses on.

Cause One: Disconnection from Meaningful Work

• Basically, we are trapped in a rat race of the most mundane, ridiculously boring work that takes up twelve hours of each day, and pays us shit. And what's more, companies don't care about their workers, won't give them decent health insurance or care, and can fire them on a whim (my state particularly is a right to work state). There is more to this story, but that about sums it up.

Cause Two: Disconnection from Other People

• People are lonely. They can't figure out how to connect with each other anymore so they withdraw into that twelve hour work day that treats them like garbage, the Internet, or overindulging in substances or food. There was an interesting anecdote Hari added about gaming addicts, and how some people are so starved for some kind of connection they get hooked on online games just to have someone to talk to. I have actually seen this happen to a couple people in my life.

Cause Three: Disconnection from Meaningful Values

• We are obsessed and addicted to stuff, and acquiring more and more stuff. Materialism has taken over. Every three years people buy new cars. They try to keep up with the Joneses. I'm guilty of it too. I've become obsessed with collecting tea sets. One really only needs one teapot when you think about it, but I just love them, so I have four.

Cause Four: Disconnection from Childhood Trauma

• People who have suffered horrible things in childhood tend to be more depressed and anxious into adulthood. This is not to say that everyone who suffered childhood trauma is depressed, or everyone who is depressed has suffered childhood trauma. It's just another big factor.

Cause Five: Disconnection from Status and Respect

• There is a reason why Facebook exists. It gives people the opportunity to post about themselves, screaming "look at me, look at me!" Hari discusses an interesting anecdote about baboons and the relationship between stress and status in baboon tribes. The omega baboon is infinitely more depressed than the alpha, unless it's "Fight for position in the tribe" time. And then the alphas are more stressed, trying to protect their status. Now we are not baboons, though we are related to them genetically (although, come to my job with me for a day, and tell me we are not baboons).

Cause Six: Disconnection from the Natural World

• We crave nature even if we think we "don't do nature." I actually took that from Hari, who readily admits that he "doesn't do nature." And I laughed out loud. How do you not do nature? It's everywhere. A thirty minute walk outside with my dog peps me up more than anything else sometimes. I've started gardening every summer, because just being outside in the dirt is therapeutic. I don't have much a green thumb, but I still try. And waking up every morning to see the mountains in the near distance has still been one of my favorite things in the world.

Cause Seven: Disconnection from a Hopeful or Secure Future

• Depressed people can't see the forest for the trees (to use an overused cliche), and I've been right there with the rest of them. It's almost impossible to look into the future and see anything good when one is at the bottom of a well of despair. 

Cause Eight and Nine: The Real Role of Genes and Brain Changes

• This one I really found interesting. It's almost a chicken or the egg question. Are depression and anxiety caused by a changed brain, or do depression and anxiety change the brain? And as it turns out, according to one neuroscientist, the brain is always changing. And of course experiences over the years, and life in general is going to change someone's brain. The brain looks different from when someone is severely depressed as when that person is no longer depressed.

What it comes down to is that it's easier to “fix” a problem by doing nothing other than swallowing a pill. To believe that a problem stems from a chemical imbalance and all one has to do is take a pill and “fix” it, like an antibiotic, is intoxicating. One doesn't have to face issues. One doesn't have to change one's lifestyle (buy less, eat healthier, exercise, actually get outside and enjoy that tree). And the big one, society doesn't have to face the fact that in actuality it is sick and needs to change. One quote from the book stood out to me: "In a world that thinks there's no such thing as society, the idea that our depression and anxiety have social causes will seem incomprehensible" (pg. 258). And then, "But it turns out we are all still living in a society, even if we pretend we aren't. The longing for connection never really goes away" (pg. 258).

And maybe that's why Hari got one star reviews on his book. Demanding that society change is always a risky business.

And yet, having just looked at Amazon, the book is temporarily out of stock and listed as a bestseller.

I'm Tired

I've been channeling a lot of Designing Women lately.

That could be because a lot of their episodes just resonated with how women think, feel, and act. Even thirty years later (since Designing Women aired in the eighties) the conversations they had and the issues they dealt with are still relevant.

One episode in particular sticks out to me this week when Mary Jo sat on the couch looking a bit dejected and said, "Boy, I tell you Julia, I am tired. Tired of going to the grocery store. Tired of standing in the checkout line. Tired of doing the laundry. As a matter of fact I pulled this shirt out of the dirty clothes hamper this morning and pressed it."

Julia: "Mary Jo, I can't believe you did that!"

Mary Jo: "Oh, come on, Julia. You live in another world. Everyone has done that at least once in their lives except you, and maybe Queen Elizabeth. I'll tell you something else, I'm tired of shaving my legs. I'm not dating anyone. So what's the point? It's not like the kids care. They don't say, 'Gee, Mom, your legs are so smoooooooth.'"

Boy, I know how that feels. I'm tired of going to the grocery store. I'm tired of doing the laundry, especially since I know any day now, that wash machine and dryer are going to go completely kaput and I'm going to have to replace them.

I am definitely tired of shaving my legs. To say nothing of other areas. And I'm not dating anyone anymore, so what is the point?

And honestly? The thought of starting to date again, or "Get back on that horse" as people who are happily coupled up like to tell losers like me who can't seem to keep an engagement together, just exhausts me even more. It's like one more thing to do on the errand list:

Go to the grocery store
Do the laundry
Vacuum
Dust
Pick up dog poop
Clean that infernal closet
Clean cat boxes
Clean cat boxes again
Clean cat boxes a third time
Date in order to find new relationship

And the thought of all that just makes me want to go back to bed. That just means I'll be back to reading Evan Marc Katz's blog, reading articles on how to understand men and what they want in a relationship, and how to avoid red flags.

Those articles themselves are exhausting. For example, click on this one and learn all about why men pull away and how to deal with it. By the time I finished reading the article I had lost interest in the man in question, and I wasn't even dating him. Honey, if it's this much work to keep you interested, then I'm no longer interested. There is a nap I could be taking instead.

Which brings me to my next question: Where are the articles for men, Why Women Pull Away and How to Deal With It? Where is the book, The Men Who Love Too Much? Where is Evana Mary Katz and her blog for men on how to understand women?

Exactly, because men don't read stuff like that. Because men don't care about how to attract women (unless it's to attract lots of women in order to have sex with them and up their numbers) or how to keep women interested or how to understand women. That's because in this world, there is always another woman out there for these men, and if one doesn't work out they happily move on to the next one.

And on that note, there is a reason I don't Google my favorite celebrities or read about their personal lives, and the reason is this:  Most of them are pigs. I broke my own rule the other day out of blatant curiosity when I scored tickets to a Bryan Adams concert in June. I have loved Bryan Adams since I was thirteen, since before Viggo Mortenson but still after Luke Skywalker. My favorite album that I wore out listening to was Waking Up the Neighbors. I joined his fan club and was a member for about six years. So I learned all kinds of fun facts about him like he's Canadian and lives in Vancouver, he loves animals and advocates for whales and is vegan, and he has a soft spot for women and advocates for breast cancer research.

He also really loves women.

The man slept his way through the Victoria's Secret lineup in the 90's. I stopped reading about him when I dropped out of the fan club and decided to leave him on the stage. Then he stopped singing and performing for a while when he decided to do photography, and I kind of forgot about him (especially when I discovered Viggo Mortenson).

One day a few years ago, Bryan Adams was blessed with a daughter. I thought well, how cool is that, and went on with my life. Then the other day, after scoring tickets to this concert because seeing Bryan Adams perform live is on my bucket list, I made the mistake of Googling him and discovered that he was with his long time girlfriend when he slipped up and impregnated his personal assistant with said daughter, and then refused to admit to it for the longest time. Girlfriend #1 cut and run, and he tried to reconcile with her but she was having none of it. He finally ended up settling down with personal assistant and mother of his child, and had another child with her.

But I bet he's still seeing models on the side.

Creep.

This will not stop me from going to see him live and enjoying his music, but that fun dream I had about him a few months ago where we got married and everyone in town turned out for the wedding, well, that remains a dream. I don't want to marry him. The man is a pig. Any woman who willingly goes for him is doing it for star power, bragging rights to "I slept with Bryan Adams," or the money. After all, he owns three or four houses in various foreign countries and his net worth is more than I will see in three lifetimes (see how much you can learn on Google?). I'm not saying there is anything wrong with this, but if you are going to get involved with Bryan, just make sure you are aware that he is a pig and will probably eventually cheat on you.

Kind of like the Drug Dealing Felon, but that's another story.

Talk about a pig.

The thing is, if someone wants to be unfaithful or realizes that they can't be monogamous, that's fine. Just be up front about it. Just tell prospective dates, "You know, I really like you, we have a lot of fun, but I have to be honest. I am not the monogamous type, and I  just can't be faithful." Then that person is free to make a decision based on the information presented. Then if that person gets upset at infidelity, they only have themselves to blame. Quite possibly going into a relationship with Bryan Adams, knowing this information, maybe I could have a whole ton of fun with him for three months or so, before releasing him back to the wild to find a new plaything. But at least then, I would have all the information, I could make a decision accordingly, and I could guard my heart accordingly.

But people want their cake and eat it too, and I'm already exhausted just thinking about a relationship with Bryan. I will never have one with him, thank God. I already know without the shadow of a doubt that I would not be able to handle it. He would be like one more pet to clean up after. I'd have one dog, three cats, and a Bryan, all of whom make nothing but messes for me to clean up. Instead of going home to clean litter boxes and scoop poop from the backyard, I would also be chasing after my man's many infidelities, trying to keep him from completely humiliating me and populating the world through five other sister wives.

Of course we are talking about celebrities. Most normal civilian men are probably not quite as much work as this, though they probably still require infinitely more care than my animals. And my animals are higher maintenance than most.

I mean, the Drug Dealing Felon was super high maintenance, and he wasn't nearly as cute as Bryan Adams.

And frankly, I just don't have the energy anymore. I'm not just being down on men. I wouldn't wish myself on any of those poor bastards either. If they are too much work, I can only imagine how much work me with my baggage of crazy pets and mental illnesses can generate. I exhaust myself.

It's all I can do just to get through the day sometimes, just going to work, then coming home and cleaning everything. Then there is still dinner to cook, laundry to do, novels and short stories to work on.

So I tell you, like Mary Jo, I'm tired. My energy is dwindling.

And apparently, according to Bryan Adams who is 58 and has tons of energy (loosely quoted from some dumbass interview I read after Googling him), going vegan is the best decision you can do for you health and body.

So if I go vegan I will be more energized to do the grocery shopping and the laundry and stop being so tired of my life all the time?

Maybe, but I'm still not going to want to marry someone like Bryan Adams.

Seriously, Bryan, what is going on with your hair?

But, still a cutie.