Like Panasonic

I woke up about four o’clock in the morning and realised that I had not reset my alarm. I wake up at 5.45 on my days off, and at 4.30 when I work, so I needed to reset my alarm for the weekdays, but knew that I hadn’t. I reset the alarm to ring at 4.30 for the workdays of the week, and went back to bed. Surprisingly, I fell asleep again. I woke once more of my own accord at 4.28 and got up.

I was puzzled when the alarm did not go off at 4.30. My back-up alarm, set for a few minutes later, had not gone off, either; in fact, I had not even turned it on the night before. I checked and saw that I had indeed set my primary alarm for 4.30 Monday morning.

I dressed and started my morning routine. It was then that I remembered I had watched a movie the previous night. The previous night was Saturday. It was now Sunday. That’s why the alarm set for the weekday mornings had not gone off. It’s why I did not set my secondary alarm.

I reset my alarm for 5.45 and went back to bed. The cats were puzzled but, since I had not begun preparing their breakfasts, they were not annoyed. They let me sleep for another hour.

While it was weird that my mind should have thought I had lost a whole day, it was a pleasant feeling to be given another day off, when I clearly had been thinking - at least subconsciously - that the weekend was over. I suppose I was like Panasonic: just slightly ahead of my time...

Brave Mountaineer

My oldster, Neville, still can surprise me from time to time. He is diabetic - with insulin having little effect on his condition - and hyperthyroidic. He’s overweight and doesn’t groom himself enough, and he’s sixteen years old. But he still has a few tricks up his furry sleeve.

For a few days last week, he had been showing an interest in the bedroom, with which he had not bothered much before. He would make as if to enter, and stand on the threshold, looking in.

Then one day, I came in to see him up on Minuet’s cat-tree at the window. More than that, he was at the top and actually had a foot on the narrow window ledge, and was peering out. His balance on a solid, level floor isn’t always good, and Min’s tree has smaller platforms to accommodate more of them for less distance between, so, worrying about him falling, I started to go in to help him. But he was, this time at least, capable of descending on his own, as he had been ascending. It was only when I observed this that I paused to take pictures.

I think Nev was curious as to what could be seen through the bedroom’s small window, rather like the one that he enjoys in the cat-room. Whatever the reason, he has demonstrated that there is still life and verve in his old, often slow body, and appropriately feline interest remaining in that sharp, frequently opinionated mind. The Nevsky can still surprise even those who know him.

No More Fluids for the Moment

Indigo’s subcutaneous fluid injections are on hold. The progression of her reactions to them has been interesting. She initially put up no resistance, and it was an easy procedure. Gradually, probably in inverse proportion to how she was feeling, with the various medicines she was receiving, there was a greater and greater vigorous response. Eventually, once she was feeling better otherwise, Indie was complaining vocally and trying to get away from the process. Last night, she struggled so hard, squealing and hissing, that I could not complete it.

Though the veterinary said that, with Indigo’s recovery from her recent episode, she did not need any more fluids, I decided to continue them twice a week, to provide her with any replacement needed due to her being given Restoralax. That substance works by drawing fluids from elsewhere in the body and into the bowels, where they do the requisite job of softening the stools and permitting easier movement. Indie is still pooping adequately, but certain factors made me think a regular dose of Restoralax, amounting to little more than an eighth of a teaspoon a day, is a good idea. But its companion action - subcutaneous fluids - will be temporarily halted.

I will attempt an injection again in a couple of weeks, and see what reaction I have. For the moment, however, Indigo can savour her victory…

The Invisible Quarry

For some reason, Valkyrie is trying to reach things high up now, and it’s as if she has noticed ceilings for the first time. She is often staring at the ceilings, even in the library downstairs, which worries me a bit, since she would probably be able to reach it by jumping from a counter there. For now, though, she has her curiosity filled with the upper walls and ceilings of the main floor.

This is her attempt to reach whatever she saw that was too far up for her to attain. I looked and, predictably, saw nothing unusual…

A Narrow But Satisfying World

I worry about Indigo and Neville. Neither interact with the other cats, and Indigo especially takes no interest in the environment around her. She doesn’t play, doesn’t explore, and doesn’t look out the windows.

Neville, at least, has come to appreciate the advantages of the Cosy Cabin. He has taken to spending a lot of time in the cat-room, perhaps because, unlike the cat-trees in the sitting room, the one under the back window is usually free. He likes to snooze there. But he also takes a look at the outside from time to time. He watches the wind stir the dead leaves and move the bare branches of the trees. He observes the odd bird. Soon there will be grass moving in the spring breezes, and numerous birds alighting on the fully-leaved boughs above. The scenes provide his latter years with interest and curiosity, and may remind him of sprightlier days. Before he naps, he checks his narrow world to see what is new. I think it satisfies him in a small way.

I’ll see if he can impart his mild pleasure to Indigo…

When Differences Are Locked In

Last evening, I heard Imogen crying plaintively from somewhere. She does that once in a while. Sometimes, she is complaining about something, often it’s to gain my sympathy over a problem. This time, it sounded different. I couldn’t find her at first. Eventually, I traced the sound to a cupboard in the bathroom. She had been closed in. Obviously, when I had opened it to take out an item, she had sneaked in.

I was reminded of the time I couldn’t find Tungsten for over an hour. I then opened the closet in my bedroom and found her sitting inches behind the door, waiting stoically.

Such a difference in personalities: Imo could have pushed the door open - she has banged it open and shut often enough from the outside - but instead called for assistance, as if she were helpless. The tiny terror, on the other hand, waited, silent ,and apparently unmoving, for me to smarten up.

Each unique, each very much a cat.

What's So Fun About It?

Imogen loves using her bathmat as a toy, especially when the string-toy or streamer is part of the action. Evidently, Moxy wondered what it was like playing with the mat - and Valkyrie wanted to know who was under it, if not Imo.