Josie at Square One

Josie’s visit to the veterinary hospital was inconclusive (read: waste of money). A sample was taken of the lump and, though it showed nothing harmful, the doctor informed me that it may simply have been that not enough material was gathered in the procedure. I could take my Chubs back for a second sampling, but that may yield just as little.

She does need a dental. Her mouth is not as bad as Tucker’s, which has been left untreated because of his diabetes, but it needs work, too. So, once I and the beasts are established in the new residence, I will make an appointment to have Josie’s teeth and gums seen to and, simultaneously, have the lump removed. I will have it sent away for analysis; that will cost extra, but I will save something in having two surgeries performed at one time. This is the theory. But I want to know if the nodule has been produced by anything sinister.

Josie does not seem to be in any discomfort. She is eating well, purring a great deal and enjoying her spots at the window and in a heated cat-bed. She also has her spot very close to my head at night, on the bed. She likes to occupy the location whether I am facing her or not. With my Chubs pinning the bedclothes down on one side, and Renn on the other, it makes for a tight fit. But I’d rather have the beasts with me than anywhere else.

A Rare Visit of Josie to the Hospital

Josie rarely has medical problems, or at least medical problems that I know about. She doesn’t face crises, such as Tucker, nor does she feel poorly as much Cammie. My Chubs does have a sensitive stomach and regurgitates her food now and then, but in the seven years she has been with me, she has given few signs of a need to visit the veterinarian.

Now, however, I have noticed a small nodule on her face, at the rear of the right side of the jaw. It is about the size of a pea, and rather hard. It may be a harmless cyst; it does not appear to be causing the Great White any distress. She is eating well - as long as I give her flavours that she likes - and not favouring soft food over hard, so I don’t believe she is suffering difficulty in chewing. Even so, I thought it best to have her examined by a doctor.

As well, Josie’s breath is starting to smell a bit and she may need a dental procedure. I will have that considered, too. Tucker’s breath is growing worse, I can mention while I am on the topic. It was when I took him in about a possible dental that his diabetes was discovered. It was thought better to stabilise his insulin dosages before any surgery was conducted. I will talk to the doctor about the possibility of scheduling that now.

Also, I will bring Cammie in to the hospital with Josie, to have her claws cut. I can hear her clicking throughout the house.

Complicating medical matters is the fact that the veterinarian I was consulting has moved. This is the second of my animals’ doctors who has left the hospital for other locations. I will be trying a new doctor on this visit, and will need to have her apprised of Tucker’s condition and history.

Now that the sale of my house is assured, I can schedule such appointments for the beasts, knowing that I will have the money to pay for them. It is a weight off my mind. Now, if the cats’ health will reflect my optimistic domestic arrangements, the year will end better than it began.

A Sign of My Times

The house is sold. The buyer’s realtor put up the ‘sold’ sign on Friday, so I suppose the deal is done. I won’t feel entirely secure until after the possession date, which is January 15th, and my share of the purchase price (after the mortgage is paid off, the realtor is given his commission and the lawyer gets a bit) is given to me. I think I will have something like $27.35. Well, perhaps a bit more. I think there will be a small amount for emergencies, which will be handy.

Now comes the next hardest part: moving. I have a month to do it, but that is a relatively short time considering all the packing to be done. The cats will have to undergo more disruption, with boxes all over the house and objects disappearing from shelves. And then the shelves disappearing. When the day of the move arrives, I will arrange for the beasts to go into one room from which everything will have already been cleared. They will then be taken to the new apartment after nothing else has to be transported. That’s the plan, anyway.

I would like to thank everyone for their best wishes over the last few weeks. Still, nothing will feel right until after I vacate the house and am installed with the cats in the new apartment, and nothing else will get done until then, I suspect. But it’s only a month away, so life will be settled soon. It’s only a month away, so I’d be better get busy.

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.