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What is it about a freshly ploughed field that makes it so appealing?
Partly that they are neat, tidy and fresh, but I also enjoy the sight of rich, healthy soil.
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It certainly beats the sight of concrete.
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Recently, I’ve come to appreciate what it must be like to live with small needy children.
There seems always to be a cat either poking me for attention or loudly demanding food.
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And one that periodically has to be persuaded not to torment his sisters.
The cats make me smile, but I know if I’d had children, my patience would have run short quickly.
While I compare them to children, lately I’ve been seeing a different parallel. It is possible for aging animals to develop a type of dementia.
It’s more a matter of confusion or disorientation, probably, noticeable in changes of behaviour.
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It was always Muffin’s habit, at night, to jump on the bed for a 20-minute visit after which she took herself off to her own chosen spot.
Last night she went off only to return minutes later and she did this several times, until I put the light out. It seemed to me that she looked confused.
When she’s not asleep, Muffin is constantly hungry despite being fed on demand.
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There is no sign that Muffin suffers and in the absence of that, it is impossible to evaluate quality of life in another species.
While I will reluctantly help end the life of an animal I know to be in distress, I couldn’t do it because a beloved pet is old and needy.
Muffin looks tired, but the aged are and cats have a way of letting you know when they have had enough.
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As many times as I’ve seen the look and known euthanasia was the humane thing to do, I have forever after beaten myself up about taking the life of an animal that trusted me.
Now I am doing the reverse. What if I am resisting doing the right thing because I can’t face it?
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Luckily, these days I don’t have to make these decisions alone. It really helps to have a second opinion.
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Coming back from Wilton yesterday I took a few photographs in which the sky looks blue though it was actually smoke-filled and rather ominous.
We hoped to see Highland calves but had to settle for seeing their mum…
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After six years, we finally got around to stopping at the Saratoga Monument in Victory Mills.
Finding a door open, we went inside and managed to climb halfway up, whereupon we encountered a work team coming down. Grant politely said we would wait only to be told:
“Technically, you’re not supposed to be in here.”
“Technically,” he replied, “there’s no sign that says we can’t be!”
However, when I tilted my head to look, I realised that there was no chance I was going to make it all the way to the top, so we retreated, which is just as well judging by the twinges in my thighs today.
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On a clear day, the view would be nice but perhaps we’ll go up the Bennington Battle Monument on such a day.
That one has an elevator!
Thank you, Carolyn, for your fantastic photography, the fields, the beautiful cow, musing on looking after elderly cats, and the folly of trying to climb those steps in the Saratoga Monument. I admire Grant’s quick wit.
Joanna
Pets can and do get dementia, and the signs are similar to those in humans. Though the best thing is, that unlike humans, they don’t forget who you are.
Best wishes, Pete.
Apropos of nothing, I was once based in Dover and lived in Burgoyne Heights!
Well then!
I can now relate about a newly ploughed field – I was just thinking this morning how nice it was to walk between these fields on the farm! As you say, if there are no signs that Muffin is suffering, then you make her life as comfortable as possible until such time. And I love Grant’s answer – why can I never give such witty answers!