Tag: Cat

Cat Update

I have three cats. One, Boo, our bedroom pantera, has cancer. This affects his mouth, obstructing his throat, causing him to drool, and naturally affecting his ability to eat. Started two weeks ago. It gets better, it gets worse.

He’s always been a cat that freaks out. Loud sounds — say a sneeze — launches a charge for the door. The vacuum cleaner being moved sends him skittering to get out of the house. Turning the vacuum on causes huge meowing fits by the door until he’s freed from the terror. Someone knocking on the door or ringing the doorbell is an incentive for a mad dash to the back door. If he can’t get out, he hides in the closet.

He barely permits us to scratch and pet his head and the back of his neck. Getting medicines into him is a ridiculous battle. We don’t know his back story of how he came to be like this. He came to us six years ago, another refugee who no one would claim. We gave him shelter and love to the best of our abilities.

He loves going outside in the morning. I permit him out, weather permitting. Although it’s in the forties today and sunny, wind gusts turned Boo back from going out. He couldn’t eat and was in pain, so he’s crying and drooling. My wife is doing her Zoom exercise class, so a voice is stridently shouting, “Heel toe! Grapevine! Four more!” This is set to blaring music. Today it’s old country and western. Of course, my wife is exercising, thumping across the floor in her shoes, which, yes, is a new stress-fear-anxiety source for Boo.

So, I’m trying to feed and comfort Boo. Also trying to feed the other cats. But they’re distracted by what’s going on with Boo, so they follow me around, trying to supervise and give advice.

Hell of a morning. All before coffee.

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The Pigeon Dream

It was a dystopian setting. My wife and I were in a small gray econobox, trying to make our way home. Torrential rains reduced the area to a muddy swamp. Mudslides were prevalent. Confusion ruled and more rain was coming. How to get home, where do we go? These were the things we were addressing to one another when a pigeon appeared.

I don’t recall the exact details but we concluded that this pigeon was trying to tell us how to get home. We got the pigeon into our car, along with our cat, the ginger boy, Papi. I started driving. Every now and then, my wife would tell me that the pigeon is telling us to go a certain way, or I’d look at the pigeon and say, “Look, he’s telling us to go that way.”

We reached our home parking lot. Large vehicles blocked the way. Backing, pulling forward, wrenching the steering left and right, I managed to get around them and safely to our garage. We then all went into the house with our belongings, the cat, and the pigeon. We talked about the pigeon saving us. We didn’t think we’d made it without the pigeon. My wife went to feed the pigeon when it attacked her.

She tried fighting it off and couldn’t. I chased the pigeon away. My wife was shouting, “Get rid of it, get rid of it.” Papi the ginger cat went after the pigeon. I didn’t want the cat to get the pigeon.

The cat had chased the pigeon to the front door. While I didn’t want the cat to go out, I wanted the pigeon out. I partially opened the door but as the pigeon beat its wings and pecked at the cat and the cat tried getting the bird, the door closed. Then, someone, the pigeon hooked the door’s edge with its beak and pulled the door open. I caught the cat, the pigeon escaped, and I closed the door.

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Floofpass

Floofpass (floofinition) – Enter another animal’s territory or property without permission.

In use: “Daisy went to her bed for her daily nap only to discover some new little feline furball was floofpassing.”

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Floofmeld

Floofmeld (floofinition) – State where a human and one or more animals, or several animals, are in agreement with what’s to be done.

In use: “With a dim day outside highlighted by battering winds, chilly temperatures, and intermittent rain, she and the floofs had a floofmeld, heading to the sofa with a blanket, snacks, and a book, to laze away the day in warmth and comfort. Before two many pages were turned, all three were curled up in sleep.”

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A Writing Dream

I fell asleep in bed thinking about a scene. Those thoughts immediately transported me to a dream where I was at a desk, trying to type. I then rose from the desk and walked to the other room to get coffee. A noise distracted me, drawing me down a hall. The hall was considerably darker than the rest of the house, skinning me with edginess. I was questioning who was in there and whether it was safe to go down the hall. I looked for a suitable weapon but went on without anything.

Coming out from the other end of the hall, I was outside. Across the way, I saw three people. Two confronting a third. I took a few steps toward them, then halted with the realization that I was witnessing the scene I’d been writing. I moved closer to them, trying to hear, and then shifted. Suddenly, I was more akin to a camera, focusing on one person, moving in on close-ups, then flashing to another as the conversation bounced around.

At that point, I started awake. After parting my eyelids to anchor myself, I snuggled deeper. Darkness enveloped the bedroom. I was warm under the covers. My trusty sleepfloof, Tucker, drew up and rubbed his head on my exposed hand. I kept lethargically petting him, floating in and out of sleep and the dream, writing in my head, and writing in the dream. When I awoke this morning and remembered that, the sheer level of writing overwhelmed me. I’d completed that scene and go on to three others. The effort spent me, though. Trying to type it up, it all burst in on me. I typed fast, hanging on to words and moments, straining to keep up.

My brain feels overwhelmed. I need more coffee.

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