In case you think that Tungsten is demoralised by the sudden tactic of subcutaneous fluids, I’d like to point out something new that she has taken to doing.
It is her habit to come to bed after I have gotten settled for the night. I generally sleep on my side with my head supported by the pillow. This allows the orange one to come up and lie against my chest, with her feet in the palm of my hand and her body curled so that her head rests on my fingers. She likes that. I like it, too, though I will want a change some time during the night.
Turning over to lie on my other side is fine with Tungsten. She will follow me. But now and then, I will lie on my stomach. This leaves my top-cat without a place to lie, or so she sees it. She will then commence to whine. She whines in a very small voice, like a stage-comedian on helium asking “Hmmm?” over and over. Sometimes I will give in and lie on my side again. Sometimes I try to outlast her.
If I attempt this, Tungsten executes Plan B. This comprises stepping onto the small dresser that serves as a nightstand on the near side of my bed. There she finds keys, loose change, pieces of paper and other items amongst which she may poke, and knock about. And she does just that, on the principle, I believe, of not permitting comfort if she herself is denied it.
I find it reassuring, in a very aggravating way, that she can still devise means of annoying me, even as she suffers from her ailments. As long as she can do that, whatever else may be happening to her, she’s Tungsten nevertheless.