Note: This was begun back in March and never finished. It was apparently too ambitious an undertaking for the time I had available to write it. Needless to say, it says some things that might interest readers and can fans.
I’M WRITING THIS AT six ayem on time-change day, so it’s properly a Catsundtide post, not a Caturday post, but it’s the wrong time of day to be more clever than that. I’m up at this hour on a Sunday because I woke up feeling a little shakey from hypoglycemia and had to get up to deal with it.
…Which is an apposite lead-in to the subject on my mind. Loki, my ragdoll-ish little buddy. He gave us a scare today. Back up and lay down some background. It’s pay week. I get paid this week at my day job. Which leads to it’s grocery day. Friday after work, I run to Sam’s and Saturday, I do Kroger. Which means,from the cats’ perspective, the whole world is disrupted with loud noises and lots of comings and goings and other disturbances to routine — but also interesting smells, like bread, and sounds like rustling plastic bags, and interesting things to munch on, like plastic bags, and (not so interesting) unusual things to hork up on the floor in the study, like plastic bags.
And, in the midst of all this furious activity, both Toni and I noticed that Loki was a little down on his chin — listless and lethargic, unresponsive to us and unwilling to move. It came to a head when I tried to clear the study of cats in preparation for bringing groceries in from the car. We leave the door open to make it easier to get into the house with hands full of groceries. And, with a household consist of ten indoor cats, providing such an opportunity for escape could be seen as imprudent — even an abdication of fiduciary duty. So we clear the study of cats and close the hall door. When I’m by myself, on entering after a grocery run, I thump my cane on the floor three times and shout, “Everybody out!” which has conditioned the cats (mostly — good luck with unanimity from such a collection of individualists, no matter how well-socialized) to abandon their perches on desk, cat tree, and windowsill and head for the door.
Today, Loki lay down in the passage between the desks, every bit as intransigent as a ’60s-era sit-in protester. I gave him a nudge with my toe and he — with palpable reluctance — got up and ran under Toni’s desk to hide on a pile of shoes. Feeling guilty about the perceived necessity, we dragged him out and unceremoniously dumped him in the hall. But both of us commented on how the behavior was MOST unusual for our little frost giant trickster.
That’s where it stopped. We had him checked out and he was OK. I do remember that. That’s how it always seems to happen. One day, though, that won’t be all there is to it and we’ll lose him for good or ill. Not looking forward to that.
He’s taken lately to stretching out next to me at bedtime and patting my face with a forepaw. I have no idea what that’s all about. I have some pictures of him doing that somewhere. Sometime when I’m not in a hurry from here to there, I’ll put them up. Meantime, here’s a pic of Earnie I was going to put up and was on my way to do it, when I discovered this unfinished post from two months ago.
Earnie through the screen. From April of ought-twelve.