Happy Holidays to All

Christmas Kitten says "merry, merry," or was what meow? 

We have a house guest with cat now, who arrived with cat because the cat care pooped out at the last possible moment.  The cat, a half-grown adorable kitten is napping in the guest room (where else?) after her long ride from NYC.  The ginger cat, formerly known as the orange cat, is quite aware that there's another cat in the house.  Thisbe, the neurotic cat, has disappeared, probably under my bed.   A household with 3 cats and soon to hold 3 guests is a busy household, plus we're taking care of the neighbor's dog next door.   4 animals, 3 guests, 2 householders.   We'll have to see how it goes.  Some excursions planned too.   I'm just hoping it's not too chaotic.

Comings and going at Logan tomorrow.  Decent weather, still.  The Pats won today after a fingernail-chewing first half.  Food is under control, presents under the tree.

 The first Christmas I remember, in  Parsons, Kansas, I got a little toy cooking pot filled with pink mints.  Odd the gifts one remembers.  We also got a chocolate turkey and carved a slice off him every day.  My juvenile mind didn't understand why we couldn't just eat the whole thing.  Memory is weird, as Proust will tell you.  For 2,000 pages he can tell you.   Joyeux Noel, and Merry Christmas to all.

Just A Spoonful of Sugar or Maybe Moist Food

Last Thursday morning, we jammed Thisbe into the cat carrier for a vet appointment. She has been eating and drinking like crazy, and we thought that maybe her diabetes was back. It is.

This means I have the honor and privilege of giving her a shot of insulin every day. Just one.

So, the fun began. First of all, a huge (to me) vet bill for the exam and the test. Then I picked up the prescription which could be filled anywhere. We headed to Walmart, hoping that was cheapest.

Oh God, then the fun really began. First of all, the pharmacy was closed for lunch from 1:30 - 2:00. So we cooled our heels buying potting soil and looking for cat grass, which nobody but the pet stores carries anymore.

The pharmacy opened and the pharmacist was very nice, and he didn't say anything when I blanched at the $100.00 price, and the thing is, the medicine is only good for one month and Thisbe only gets one millileter. I got needles and meds and we came home after an expensive detour to Kohl's where everything was so cheap you just had to buy stuff.

Back home, I did a trial run on the needle and the medication, and all was not well. I couldn't seem to make the plunger take the smallest amount. In the meantime, Thisbe got the wind up(who knows how) and disappeared under the bed.

I decided to call it a day.

Yesterday, I practiced with another needle and water, and became quite adept at getting the itsty-bitsy amount of insulin into the needle. Thisbe disappeared under the bed about the time I was thinking about the first shot. She came out to eat, took one look at me, and disappeared under the bed again, into the basement, anywhere, anywhere but in the vicinity of her mistress.

In the meantime, I had somehow expelled the insulin from the syringe.

Today we decided to take a day off, but Thisbe was not fooled and disappeared under the bed after breakfast. When I went up to get dressed, she usually comes out and we have some Mommy/Kitty time. Not this morning.

The damn cat really does have ESP. We're going to play it cool until tomorrow. Maybe she'll calm down.

The fact that the insulin has to be kept in the fridge and the needles sterile and the cat swabbed with alcohol first add to the complexity, as this point the impossibility. Maybe the smell of alcohol triggered a bad memory. Or a new memory from the vet. Maybe she remembers her former experience, when I used to distract her with catnip or get her while she was eating.

She has the wind up. Don't know what to do. And we have $300+ worth of meds, tests, exams and needles going for naught.

Some days you just want to drown your troubles with a cup of hot cocoa. Or something.,

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Thisbe Remembers That She is A Cat and Other Tales

Thisbe loves to see the sparrows on the feeder take off when she steps onto the front porch. The doves fly away with outrage and noisy wings, and the chipmunks and squirrels dive for cover. Such power. Such respect.

If some small creature comes back, Thisbe is ready to pounce, so long as the neighborhood is free of people, other animals and cars, along with any unrecognizable noise. Discretion is always the better part of valor in Thisbe's feline life.

She endured an entire week without catnip while I was gone, and yorked up a hairball in retribution. I like to think. In the meantime, we've had lots of Mommy/Kitty time.


Yesterday, on the march thru Salem neighborhoods for Obama, I saw some weird sights. Curtains so shabby they hung in shreds. People sitting at the kitchen table and refusing to answer the doorbell. A woman who would never vote for a Democrat again because of "how they treated Hilary." A haunted house, (almost).

For sure a lot of houses had no doorbells, and it was obvious to the casual observer that no one ever used the front door. Lots of cars in the driveway but no one home.

Is it true that if someone gives two excuses, that person is lying? Such as "I'm eating lunch and I have company." Dunno. Human nature is infinitely various.

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Cat Tales

A degree of difficulty occurs when I have to key around Thisbe's tail on the keyboard. She is in one of her "moods" today. Let me rub her tummie and fondle her paws this morning, acts that on other days are greeted with claws and jaws. Complained that the food dish was empty but didn't eat when I filled it. Just likes the idea of the dish (with food) being available. But what am I thinking? Today is not cat blog day.

Today is the day I send Festival Madness in to an editor. I think I must have gone over the manuscript at least 10 times, changing, refining, critiqueing and honing my craft as they say.

Now to get going on the California novel. I want to write it in a year--no more of these 2.5 year lengthy projects with too much time spent not writing. We'll see, we'll see.

Onward to the after Christmas sales and the after Christmas cooking, and the cleanup and all the attendant tasks, part of the process. The tree is guzzling water like a man who just crawled across the Sonora--shedding needles, too. We have the cutest little wren that visits. Don't know if she's a house wren, a winter wren or a Carolina wren. Could get out the bird book, I suppose. Goldfinches in droves on the thistle feeder. Love the winter birds.

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