Forty-nine Weeks

Today, things are getting back to normal in more ways than one. Cammie seems well; last night, she visited the litter-box after I went to bed. I checked and saw that she had wet and pooped. I am a bit concerned that she is going to the boxes only once a day. As Kari, in a comment, pointed out, one big visit may be unusual. Trying to recall, I think it is. However, Cammie had been without food and water for a couple of days and only small amounts of both for a two days after that. She may have had need of much of it. But I will be watching her visits nonetheless, and speaking to the veterinarian about it today.

Unfortunately, the other part of normal is work: I’m back at it. Not only does this cut into the enjoyable things in my life, but it keeps me away from home so I can’t keep an eye on Cammie. I am glad that she recovered from the worst of her ordeal before my holidays ended.

My three weeks off were very good. I accomplished a great deal around the new apartment, though there was certainly less to do than at the old house. I was able to relax, read, write, watch movies, listen to music and spend the time with the beasts that they deserved. I was also able to clean the cat-trees. I took so much fur off of them that I could have constructed a fifth cat. I think I’ll call him Follicle. It was funny seeing the cats go to their familiar spots and smell them, wondering where their scents had gone. But everything is back to normal in that regard, too.

And so I await my next holidays. They are, after all, just forty-nine weeks away. Until then, I may feel a little bit restricted in my freedom and activities, a little bit caged. My life is a good one, but not entirely my own. Rather like that of a house-cat…