An Inspector Calls

My title refers not to the Priestley play, nor to the 1954 film adaptation starring the incomparable Alastair Sim. Indeed, there no indication meant of any sort of police officer. No, the reference is instead to a building inspector. I don’t know what he looks like, so he could very well resemble Sim.

I received an offer on my house earlier in the week. The offer is conditional upon a building inspection being made. I expected one to be conducted, so this did not perturb me. The examination was completed yesterday. It took two hours and, since it ended late in the afternoon (at five o’clock), I was not apprised of the results at the time. I still have not. I was told that the news would come in ‘the next few days’. I will call my realtor and inquire this afternoon.

Needless to say, I am anxious concerning the outcome. An inspection was completed when I moved into the house five years ago and though nothing disastrous has occurred in the interval, there is the chance that something may have happened unnoticed that will derange the deal. If there is nothing major, however, I and the cats will be leaving this house within the month.

Where, you may be wondering, did the beasts go while the inspector was poking and prodding my property? I didn’t want to leave them in the house. This would not be a visit like a realtor conducting a potential buyer through the rooms. Nor would it be similar to an open house. The inspector would be leaving doors open everywhere and I did not feel that it was wise possibly to antagonise him by leaving notes about putting the onus of my pets’ safety on him. Mainly, I was worried about the cats.

In anticipation of selling the house, I had already rented an apartment. I can afford to do this only for a month, but I believe it is worth it. As I may have written in this blog previously, the chances of finding a truly pet-friendly rented residence in my town are slender. Those landlords who call themselves pet-friendly actually fine pet-owners at least $250 per pet. I did not want to give up $1,000 to greed. Besides, the apartment I chose is comfortable, safe and conveniently located.

Anyway, it is empty but available. So the cats stayed there for several hours yesterday afternoon, accompanied by a friend from the rescue-group to which I belong. This allowed the inspection to be completed on time and without interference - and without worry on my part. At least not worry about the cats.

So now I wait for the word on the inspection. If it is satisfactory, then plans will be laid for my move. It will make for a hectic Christmas season, to which I do not look forward with relish. But once the beasts and I are settled in our new home, a new year will have begun, and, hopefully, a better one than that which has passed.

An Interesting Day at Home

I had another ‘open house’ this weekend, in my continuing attempts to sell my house. It was a different kind of open house, however. Before the event, I wanted to confirm it with the realtor, and found to my surprise that the open house is scheduled for next Sunday - he had not put the ad in the appropriate places by the deadline, though he had five days to do it. This put me in a quandary, as I had advertised on Facebook and Kijiji that the event would be this Sunday (yesterday). I figured people might show up based on that. So I called my realtor and asked if there would be a problem with me hosting the open house, if he was not scheduled to do so. He acquiesced and so I got ready to receive any visitors.

It turned out well. There were five parties, three couples and two singles. Two seemed promising. I liked that I was able to answer the questions they had about the house and the neighbourhood, and at least one of them expressed satisfaction at being able to meet the owner. It occurred to me that having the owner present might be an advantage, as he would know much more about the house than the realtor, and would give the viewing a more personal aspect.

I had designed a colour brochure about the house and was able to print off some copies to give to the viewers. As a friend of mine pointed out, there should be something that the viewers can take with them, to keep the house in their minds and differentiate it from others that they may see that same day.

But of course my real worry was over the cats. I felt that with me still present, I did not have to confine them in the spare room downstairs; I simply had to watch the doors to the outside. I need not have been concerned. Three of them spent the two hours of the open house in the bedroom. Cammie was the big surprise. This cat who frequently hurries under the kitchen sink or the bed when strangers arrive remained out and about the whole time. She watched people walk by, she sniffed their shoes, she looked out the window. She was curious about the doors when they opened, but I think that was more an attraction to the fresh air and smells coming in. I was quite proud of my princess.

Renn stayed on the cat-tree by the bedroom window, while Josie was largely apathetic on the bed. Tucker spent the time under the bed. Strangely enough, with about fifteen minutes remaining in the open house’s schedule, all of the beasts came out and circulated in the building, as if they were sure there would be no more visitors. Nor were there.

Now, paws crossed that the day will produce some results.

The Best Defence

Having successfully placed a video on my blog on Monday, I’ve decided to place another. I had included a video years ago; it showed Tungsten playing, back when she was still spry and limber, or relatively so, though she was twelve at the time. I could not replicate the placement of that video with others; I don’t know why. But I have lately found a way of reducing the size of a file without destroying the image. Thus, I have videos to show you.

This second of the week is actually an old one, from a couple of years ago. Cammie was relatively new to the household, but she was already possessive of the place. Witness the consternation she and Renn suffer at the appearance of another cat outside the window. To be honest, I think the stranger just wanted to be friends.

You will have to turn your heads sideways at some point. I apologise for that but, though I have discovered how to place videos here, I haven’t figured out how to right them when I tilt the camera during filming…

It's on YouTube, as well. Search under "John Bellen".

A Brush with Something Different

I’d like to thank everyone for their thoughts and best wishes regarding Cammie during last week’s bout of ill health. She is eating (more on that below). She is, however, sick again. This time, she has caught a bit of a cold. This is less serious, I think, than what she had; it is probably making her feel miserable but is very likely not dangerous. She has a snotty nose and is sneezing, but she is hungry and she is keeping her food down.

She has, in fact, decided that she likes another kind of food. She loves her Fancy Feast, despite my continued attempts to have her try something else. For years, she has favoured the ‘ocean whitefish and tuna’ variety. She has, in the past week, wanted little of it. I had, however, opened a tin of ‘seafood feast’, which Renn likes for the time being. I gave some to the princess, and she gulped it right down. The ingredients are sketchy: ‘ocean fish’ is the first in the list. I believe that may cover about four hundred thousand different species of marine life. Anyway, she is eating it, and it is giving her a bit of variety.

Cammie has done something else new. Last night, she allowed me to brush her. Previously, she had hissed at the very smell of the brush. Perhaps now, with a clogged nose, she can’t sniff the scent of other cats on the implement. The other three perma-cats loved their long brushing session yesterday, so I thought I’d attempt it with Cammie. Lo, she permitted about a minute and a half of brushing. As her cold subsides and her sense of smell returns, she may hiss again at the brush, but I will push my luck in that regard until she does.

The third interesting thing about the princess is her reaction to a new house-viewing. Once again, she had to go to the spare room, along with her roommates. She had ensconced herself in the downstairs cylinder cat-tree. Instead of prying her out of there, I simply pushed the cat-tree into the spare room; Cammie remained in it. Once in the spare room, though, I opened the door of her cage, and down she climbed; she walked into the cage without a fuss.

Are these deviations of character due to a foggy head induced by her cold? Are they permanent? I don’t know the answers, but I do know that Cammie keeps things interesting around the household.

The Good Patient

Tucker suffered through another ‘curve’ again yesterday. He co-operated very well, as always. The curve did not go as low at its nadir as has been the case in the past. In fact, it started and ended higher than previous curves. I will be speaking with his doctor about this today. However, as I observe the roly poly one’s behaviour and actions, I think he is still doing very well.

In addition to being poked in the ears every couple of hours, the he must of course receive his insulin injections twice a day. I simply have to let him smell the insulin pen, and he goes to lie down in preparation for receiving the shot. I made a short video of how well this sausage of a cat takes his medicine, and have founds a means of compressing the file to a size that will allow it to be loaded on the blog. (Tucker is a little distracted by the camera during his injection this time, but only a little.)

Isn’t he a wonderful fellow?

It's on YouTube, as well. Search under "John Bellen".

The Weight on My Shoulders

Cammie threw up but good following dinner yesterday. I was beginning to worry about her, as I know that cats cannot go without food for more than a few days before their internal organs are adversely affected. She was hungry - I heard her stomach growl - and wanted to eat, but could not keep anything down.

So I tried another tactic. At snack-time, I fed her only half a teaspoon of her favourite soft-food. She wanted more, but I denied it to her. It was hard to do it, but I thought that her stomach might be able to handle a small amount better than a large. I would give her a similar amount a couple of hours later, if she retained the first.

This seemed to work. At ten o’clock, I gave her another half-teaspoon. This too appeared to stay put. I did not hear any wretching during the night, and found no evidence of it this morning. I was concerned that Cammie was drinking a great deal of water; my concern was that too much water with not enough food could upset her stomach. But if she was throwing up, she was losing fluids, and needed to replace them.

Whatever she ate last night must surely be digested by this morning, which means some nutrition has been absorbed. She ate a small breakfast - again a reduced amount - and this too was kept down. I am less anxious about her being hungry than about her keeping down whatever she does eat.

I think Cammie may now be over the worst of her illness, whatever it is. I’ll know for sure when I go home tonight. Such incidents take years off my life; I am listening constantly for the sound of a cat throwing up, looking at her to see if she wandered off to vomit where I can't hear her, and wondering if she can stand a bit more food.

But we had a good time last night, as well, my princess and I. She enjoys a session on my chest when I lie down, so I took a comfy position on the couch, made sure the other cats were occupied sleeping and invited Cammie over. She purrs continually, and it’s the only time she pushes her head against me. The photographs here are bad, as I took them with one hand with my telephone while also stroking Cammie's head and back. I enjoy such times as much as she. This is a weight on my shoulders I can manage.

Recipe for a Princess

I was going to write about Cammie’s use of the heated cat-beds, but that topic has become merged in another.

Yesterday, Cammie was feeling ill. She threw up several times. That is unusual for her. She will give a heave now and then, often when she is eating from the hard-food bowl. I don’t think she chews properly and the kernels don’t get all the way down her throat. But yesterday, she threw up her food a number of times, soon after eating. At snack-time, about eight o’clock, my princess gamely came out to have a small bowl of her favourite soft-food, but her stomach, though probably empty, wasn’t ready, and she left the food untasted.

After hiding under the kitchen and bathroom basins, she retreated for much of the night to the cylinder-house cat-tree in the basement. These are spots to which she resorts when she wants to be alone, especially when she is feeling poorly. I make sure I know where she is, and leave her to rest.

Just before bedtime, however, she emerged and was, I think, a little better. She came to say hello to me in the parlour and spent the night upstairs, rather than hiding. She did regurgitate some hard-food just before I got up the next morning, but she was eager for her soft-food breakfast. I suspect her stomach was now quite hollow. I was cautious about feeding her too much, but provided her with a couple of small portions. Then she had a drink of water, which I was afraid would trigger another retrograde nutritional sojourn. Sure enough, a few minutes later, I heard the sound of vomiting. Fortunately, it was Josie. (Sorry, my Chubs, but in this instance it was fortunate.) Josie has always had a sensitive stomach, and she gets rid of her food now and then. It does not mean sickness in her case. When I left, half an hour later, Cammie had kept her food down, and was still upstairs.

My princess has taken to using the heated cat-beds, which I believe will provide her with some comfort, especially when she is sick. I had noticed for a while that she seemed a little chilly lying in her usual places, now that the weather has turned cold here. She loves the heated towels in the parlour, of course, but Renn and, lately, Josie, have been availing themselves of that warmth. They, however, do not need it, as I think Cammie may. 

So when I saw that Cammie had found the cat-beds were also heated, I was pleased. I turn the thermostat down quite a bit at night and when I go to work, so I am gratified to know that my newest perma-cat has warmth and comfort to enjoy while getting some rest. Sometimes that is the best recipe for recovery when one is under the weather.