It’s that time of year.
Cat check,-up time.
Lucy got a mostly good report except for two things.
She has one eye and the doc. seemed just a bit concerned that it’s not quite right. Lucy declined the suggestion of complicated investigations.
We are to keep an eye on it. You’ll pardon the pun.
She has also lost weight, not noticeable under all that fur. She’s just a fluff ball.
She constantly demands treats but she eats very small amounts and there is no such thing as sneaking her extra treats! So, what to do?
Panther’s scale is now on the desk beside me (it was purchased when we had to monitor his weight, that’s why it’s called Panther’s.)
It has a nice woolly throw to make it appealing for cats to sit, and they do, but the thing is, you need to hit the “on” button before they climb aboard and of course they don’t exactly make an announcement.
With Lucy in particular, if you just lift her off for a second to turn the thing on, she streaks off across the room leaving you dabbing blood from whatever part of you she used as a launch pad. Cooperation is not Lucy’s middle name.
Lily who, like Lucy, is middle-aged at least, is a bag of bones, but apparently is maintaining her weight, so her only issue is the rodent ulcer which requires administration of ointment to her ear, periodically.
But Lily is a mind reader and I never saw a cat so effectively disappear, or run so fast. This morning she was doing her torpedo act around the house:
Starting at one end, she hurtled through the living room scattering mats and other cats to the wind and bounced off the wall at my end of the house, then repeated in reverse.
We never complain, though. Any cat who can muster that much enthusiasm and energy must be in good health.
Sasha, aka Dee Dee, is one of our younger kids and everything about her is perfect. She is Grant’s number 1 cat and she knows it.
She is at pains to remind him about it any time one of the others demands lap time or any sort of attention.
Sasha has probably the most expressive face I’ve ever seen on a cat. She does a thing with her eyes, just the tiniest squint or enlargement of the pupil, just the faintest tilt of head.
And she talks. Not just to her siesta basket. She has a speech for when she wants to go out, or wishes to be fed, or has an opinion about anything.
Lily may be the official top cat, Lucy the appointed one (Lily doesn’t want the job) but Sasha thinks she is.
Penny is our senior-citizen cat with arthritis and “issues”. Grant is currently running after her to collect a pee sample.
That was the first wave of cat bills . Now we are gearing up for another five visits, plus Penny’s follow-up.
Our attempts to get more food into Lucy I suspect will result in ten FAT cats and Lucy will still be emaciated.
You can only do so much.
The notifications of more vet visits came today along with another snotty note from the DAMNABLE bank. I opened the envelope with a sharp knife that I keep in my desk for these things and when Grant heard my rather explosive retort, he anxiously said “Carolyn, put the knife down!”
All I did was stick it through the bank’s correspondence rather forcefully. I really don’t think it is at all nice for them to launch two of their nasty missiles one after another, escalating their case to threats.
Threatening old people, whose money they are actually in possession of, with injury to their credit rating!
OMG, I think I’ll faint. I don’t actually give a rat’s about my credit rating because I don’t need it anymore.
I’ve a mind to change banks, but they are all the same.
In the past I used to write aggrieved letters when I was annoyed with some company or other. Once or twice I even got an apology, a credit even. But mostly it just gave me the chance to launch my own missiles. These days writing letters is pointless because I’m sure they go right in the bin. So I say bad things to no-one in particular.
If I was to go down there and talk to an actual person, I would just get tongue-tied, look like a fool and cry. So I’m not doing that.
This morning it took all my resolve just to get dressed and remain upright, so the bank’s letter was not well received and I threw a mini-fit.
Then I went out to the garden and took it out on the invasive vine that’s been throttling trees in the woods.
Between the choker vine last summer and the ice and winds of recent months, the woods are looking a bit shattered.
That vine grows wicked fast and strong. I pulled miles of it out last Fall but was afraid of knocking down bird nests, so I had to leave most of it.
Grant said the thing to do was cut it at the root.
Yes, well, I did that, except there are so many and I can’t crawl all over the hill which isn’t even my property.
When I started to cut the first thick root I found myself saying to it “I’m sorry, vine. I know you have to grow, but you kill all the other plants.”
Am I mad?
You know what else?
The first tick of the season found me.
It was bound to.