The day began quite early, with a bruised sky.
Intentions of rising at 0530 failed when the alarm in my phone did not ring.
Instead I woke to the sound of Grant clattering up the stairs shushing cats aside that for once had had their slumber disturbed.
Not that we were really late, but when we have an appointment we like to arrive with time to spare and feeding 11 fussy cats doesn’t happen in five minutes.
Then there’s the birds and I couldn’t not photograph the sky and have a cup of tea.
All of that was really not the problem.
Some cats will eat whatever they are offered. May God bless them. Our cats sometimes deign to eat what’s on offer but mostly a lot of swapping around goes on.
And these days we have to deliver the bowl to the appointed room, the chosen square of carpet…
…whence we must tiptoe away so as not to disturb the little blighters.
Muffin aka Sikkim is particularly fussy and we can’t spend all day trying to satisfy madam’s delicate palate. We know that eventually she will find a leftover that suits. But….
Over the weekend we began to notice a little drooping of madam’s spirits, a little less pep in her loud conversations.
She looked a bit more sad than usual.
By this morning we decided something was up.
Never a good thing when you are trying to make an expeditious exit.
Particularly as we had a pretty good idea what was waiting at the end of our road:
Not quite a ravine but certainly a significant rut.
Although we left without our usual 15-minute cushion of time, Grant pulled up at the medical office just in time and I scurried inside for the latest set of injections.
All transacted in record time, during which Grant had called the vet to discuss our ailing kitty.
So we tootled quickly home, through the ditch to grab the patient, who was much affronted at being shoved into a carrier.
Back out we went to drop her off and then once more home, across the deepening groove.
By now, just our passage alone was widening it.
Two hours later, off we shot again with our muddy windshield. Somehow cleaning it hadn’t seemed like a necessity this morning.
Grant eased one wheel and then the other into the trough and then bravely navigated the rut-filled road to the state route.
Quite a lot of rushing about, really.
When we got back this time, someone had come with a truckload of dirt and filled in the hole.
Although there is a fair amount of ice still to drain and tomorrow..we may get snow…
All of which is of no importance.
En route to the vet
Muffin was thoroughly checked over by our very nice doctor who could find no serious “defect.”
A bit of gas, a slightly sore tooth perhaps…
Being manipulated for the x-ray presumably moved the gas….upon her return, the little lady expressed an interest in taking food, “Oh yes”, she said, “that will do nicely. Is there more?”
One thinks “so why did we panic?”
The thing is, cats conceal suffering. It’s in their DNA from before they were domesticated.
If you live in the wild and show any sort of weakness, you will become someone’s lunch.
So often one is not aware that one’s feline friend is in trouble and once it is noticed, it is not good to hesitate.
Cats can go down fast and with the difficulties of getting to see a doctor, time is of the essence.
So we panic. It’s what we do.
Muffin demanded to be let out, to stretch her legs and have a natter about her ordeal.
….and then she sauntered in.