Precious

Mission Accomplished – ND #51

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 3 Comments
Happy Girl – Photo: L. Weikel

Mission Accomplished

Mission Accomplished! I won’t lie. It was a struggle of epic proportions. But we met The Precious Challenge head-on and won. It took a concerted and strategic effort executed by two adult humans to wrangle that feline into our makeshift means of transportation to the vet.

As you know, the plotting began last night. Karl and I vowed to be on top of the situation so we could avoid canceling yet another appointment due to Precious ‘going missing.’ Since Karl gets up earlier than I do, I urged him to be extra vigilant about remaining aware of her location. Ideally, he would nonchalantly encourage her to remain in the living room until it was time to leave for the appointment. Surreptitiously closing off doorways of escape was part of that strategy.

All was going well until I came downstairs. Karl had just gone outside to monitor the pups when I checked on Presh in the living room. I saw her dart behind the loveseat in the dining room. Check. At least I knew where she was. Before closing the door between the kitchen and the dining room, I made sure the door leading up the pie-shaped stairway to our second floor was shut tight. Granted, there was no latch, but it wedged snugly tight. I was as satisfied as I could be under the circumstances.

The Chase

This wouldn’t be a post if it didn’t end up being an absolute debacle. Forty five minutes before our appointment, I had an uneasy feeling. “Is Precious still in the dining room?”

Karl checked. “Nope. Can’t find her. Oh – and the door to upstairs was pried open.”

“Aaarrggh.” The lack of latches on various doors in our house is a recurring problem. Truth be told, it’s rarely an issue – except (mostly) when trying to keep puppies or runaway cats from messing around unsupervised in the bedrooms upstairs.

We immediately launched into a full-scale search. Initial tactics, however, were deliberately gentle and persuasive. We locked the pups into their crate and opened up a can of her favorite food. Shutting all the doors, including the one between the living/dining room and kitchen, and the door leading from our bedroom (which is located at the top of the other set of pie-shaped stairs leading from the kitchen to our bedroom) was paramount. We knew we were going to need to trap her.

She’s been known to hide in our room and furtively creep down the stairs to eat from her bowl in the kitchen. She seemed insulted we’d think she’d fall for that. Lame.

I knew her trail was cold when we heard ZERO blood-curdling mrrrows. The house was strangely silent. Had that brat somehow managed to sneak outside when Karl came inside with the pups? I was crestfallen. I know how stressed out she is and how tremendously much better she felt after her first shot last September. All I wanted to do was help her feel better.

Found Our Quarry

I heard the guttural howls a millisecond before Karl yelled, “Found her!” Ah. She was in our bedroom.

Karl, on his knees and already armed with a pillow case and flashlight, was peering under the bed when I crested the stairs. A broom lay at the ready. No human arms would be willingly flayed if it could be avoided.

“I can’t see her,” he said grimly as I continued calling to her in a sing-song voice. A moan that sounded like it was coming from the gates of hell tipped us off that she wasn’t buying it.

I got on my knees on the other side of the bed. Nope. No sign of her. Except – the material covering the box spring seemed to be hanging a bit low in one place.

“She’s in the box spring. She ripped that sucker open and is inside the framework.” We laughed at her psychotic efforts to evade being given a medicine that would make her feel dramatically better.

Our box spring is split (precisely because of those pie shaped stairs), and Karl lifted the one harboring our fugitive. Oh! The yowls of agony. Nevertheless, she soon realized the futility (or thought she could escape again) and jumped out of the box spring, scrambling down the steps toward the kitchen.

THWARTED. The door was closed. She was trapped between the closed door at the bottom of the steps and the two of us at the top. The stairwell only amplified her horrific gurglings of terror.

Bagged Her

Once she realized the jig was up, she continued to struggle, but did allow me to envelope her in a hooded sweatshirt nearby, which we then used to ‘double-bag’ her by placing the sweatshirt into the aforementioned pillowcase.

She didn’t struggle. She surrendered – if far from quietly. Oh no, she wanted the entire household to know that she was being led to her execution.

The funny thing is, once bagged, Precious and I went straight out to the car, strapped ourselves into the driver’s seat and drove up to the vet. She didn’t move a muscle. (But she did continue to moan pathetically.)

The Appointment

Doris, my partner in crime at the vet’s office, teased me. There was Precious, laying on the examining table, purring contentedly. I assure you, it was not a nervous terror purr. No. She was happy as a clam and making my harrowing story of shredded box springs seem quite unbelievable. “Sure Lisa,” she said with a grin.

She didn’t even flinch when she received her shot.

And since we came home? She once again is giving off vibes that say, “Oh Mommy. I feel sooo much better already. Why didn’t we do this a couple weeks ago?”

Why didn’t we indeed.

Peaceful Precious (this evening) – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+51)

Idyllic – Day 1050

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Idyllic September Day – Photo: L. Weikel

Idyllic

Today was one of those days that will go down in the books as idyllic from start to finish. After spending the entire day outside in the autumn air, I can barely keep my eyes open. In fact, tonight is one of those nights when I keep falling asleep at the keyboard.

I wanted to choose a card for us this evening – something for us to keep in the back of our minds as we watch this week unfold. My sleepiness has thwarted my intentions, so I guess I’ll have to do it tomorrow.

In the meantime, if things start getting dicey right out of the gate tomorrow (on any of the myriad fronts our lives could go sideways, personally and/or collectively), I’d like to at least offer you these photos. Drink their loveliness in. Let them remind you of what’s deeply important and without which we will fail to survive.

Feeling Loved Again

As I sit here writing this post, I’m surrounded by our three cats. It’s as if they’re sentinels. Cletus is directly across the room from me on the couch. Tigger is behind me on my left, sleeping on the back of the couch I’m sitting on, and Precious is behind me on my right.

Speaking of Precious, she’s doing great. It is as if, energetically, she’s let out a huge sigh of relief. To me, it feels like she was holding her shoulders up toward her ears for the past, umm, couple years – and all of a sudden someone just touched her to make her relax and she’s looking around, bewildered at how she’s feeling now.

I’m excited for her.

I’m also managing to get at least half of the hyperthyroidism medicine into her every day. Score! I can’t tell at all whether that’s having an impact. But the steroids definitely are. Poor bunny girl. She must’ve been so uncomfortable for so long…

Here’s to a better week than last.

Idyllic (& Starry) September Night – Photo: L. Weikel

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Stuff Got Done – Day 887

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Precious – Photo: L. Weikel

Stuff Got Done

Today was a day some stuff got done – inside. Wow, was it chilly and raw out. At one point, not only was it raining, I swear there was also some sleet in the mix as well.

I’m actually hoping to get a lot more stuff done this entire weekend. I figure I might as well make this ‘declaration’ here. Not that I have to ever admit whether or not I successfully make the type of headway I yearn to, but at least I’ll feel some responsibility to fulfilling my stated intention.

My zeal to clean out was at least somewhat assuaged by the arrival of the Vietnam Vets of America, who picked up the contents of our front porch, which had grown to a somewhat daunting size.  I may have jumped the gun a little bit, though, and I feel bad about it.

VVA Protocol

When one schedules a pickup with this charity, you’re told to expect a pickup between 8:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m. on the appointed day. Well, the last time I scheduled with them was March 23rd  – and they never showed up.

Since then, I’ve noticed the side-eye we’ve been getting from the neighbors. I think the length of time those items have remained on our porch has encouraged a collective wondering if we’re moving out. So I was perhaps – only perhaps, mind you – a little trigger happy when we reached the magic hour of 5:00 p.m. this evening and there was still no sign of the VVA truck. Given the first missed appointment, I had no problem jumping on the assumption train that this appointment had been blown as well.

So, of course, I called. And after remaining on hold for a good long time, I finally spoke with a human. She was great to deal with and simply made sure she ‘registered a Complaint’ for both missed appointments. She also put in an expedited request for a third pickup next Tuesday.

Because we all know how this type of stuff unfolds, you can guess what happened after that. Not ten minutes later, didn’t the VVA truck pull up and the poor guy had to load it all onto his truck in the pouring rain? Of course it did.

Setting Things Straight

The feeling of liberation when I look outside and see a cleared front porch!

I’m going to call them back tomorrow (or Monday) and set the record straight. The last thing I want to do is punish the guy who has our route. He was doing it all himself, and it looked like his truck was pretty darn full when he opened up the back. There was no partner sharing the load of lugging all the stuff. So I want to make sure he doesn’t get dinged in his paycheck for two missed appointments. That could be grounds for losing his job, and if so, I don’t want to be responsible for that.

In the Meantime

In the meantime, we never did manage to get a walk in today. Neither of us relished the prospect of dodging raindrops and getting soaked. Instead, we took full advantage of sitting in front of the fire in our living room and allowing the warmth to soak into our bones.

Tigger was first in line to bask in the warmth, and Precious simply couldn’t keep her eyes open.

Sort of how I feel right now.

Tigger – Photo: L. Weikel

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Little Things – Day 742

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Precious Awakened – Photo: L. Weikel

Little Things

Each and every day, particularly right now, focusing upon the little things in life, the things that make us smile, is an act of self-love. Off the top of my head, listening to my cat Precious snore like a longshoreman while curled up on the back of the couch right behind me fits that bill.

And now that I start to contemplate the many ‘little’ things I’m grateful for, I see how many of them revolve around non-human creatures, especially Spartacus (our Boston Terrier), Precious, Tigger, and Cletus. I can say without qualification that they bring a dimension of joy and comfort into my life that I’d be lost without.

Tigger Snoozing – Photo: L. Weikel

You know me…recounting the joys my four-legged companions bring to my life is something I engage in routinely. And it’s not at all likely that I’ll stop dipping into the pool of love they provide anytime soon.

That’s at least partly because simply living life in 2020 and paying attention to our collective reality means we are bombarded with news that hurts our souls. Literally. Even if we only cursorily glance at the headlines just to see where we stand as a community or a country, it’s enough to drain our energy and leave us feeling defeated, deflated, or perhaps occasionally worse: enraged.

Our nervous systems are drenched in the fight or flight hormones of cortisol and adrenaline. And unlike pretty much all other times in our nation’s history, because of the ubiquitous nature of technology in our hands, we are kept mercilessly up-to-date on the latest atrocities being waged against the things many of us care about most.

Spartacus & Tigger getting some flame time – Photo: L. Weikel

Purring and Comfort and Walks

Beyond the scientific proof that the purring of cats is healing to the physical body, I for one can attest to how my cats have mended tears in my emotions since I got my first kitten at age six: Katen. Katen was a black and white domestic shorthair cat with a white hourglass on his nose. He got me through my childhood, pure and simple. He was my closest confidant (although I was lucky enough to have a couple two legged ones too – you know who you are).

It’s amusing to me to realize that he was black and white – just like my beloved Sheila and Spartacus; just like Cletus. Indeed, just like the marvelous Stinky who’s been around recently.

I love feeling the heft of a cat on top of the covers, his purr resonating through the layers of sheets and blankets. (I will admit to allowing Spartacus to nestle along my back underneath the covers. Talk about a comfort.)

And the walks. The walks are good for all of us. All of these little things, these opportunities for giving and receiving love, make my life incredibly rich. I hope you have such little things too.

Cletus with a rare smile – Photo: L. Weikel

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First Taste – Day 735

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Precious – Snoring – Photo: L. Weikel

First Taste

Wild winds and driving rain galloped through our area this evening, heralding a cold front that will give us our first taste of the incoming late fall/early winter season. No, not snow – at least so far as I can tell from The Weather Channel. But by Wednesday we’re only supposed to reach a high of 41 – with a low of 24 degrees! Brr!

When the temperatures drop precipitously, I find myself wanting to curl up in a blanket with a good book and my beloved beasts cuddled up beside me. I’m also a little unsettled by the sleepiness that overtakes me when the wind howls and the glider gets blown off the porch.

It’s almost as if my processors just need to shut down for a bit. Or maybe it’s that I need to be unplugged and allowed to re-set.

I’m Not Alone

I was sitting on the couch earlier and heard a god-awful snoring. Mind you, I miss Sheila incredibly much – and she was the worst of the worst. Her snoring would definitely have warranted, had she been human, some sort of intervention, perhaps a C-Pap machine. But alas, it’s been almost two full months since she’s been gone and it wasn’t until I heard the massive snoring behind my head that I realized just how quiet our house has become in the cacophonous sleeping department.

No, it was Precious. She was deeply asleep and clearly snuggled in for the night.

I made a short video clip of her sonorous slumber and also snagged a couple shots of her blissful face in repose.

She had it right. Sleep. Deep sleep.

Plant Those Seeds?

I hope you gave yourselves the gift of at least devoting a few minutes over this weekend to reflecting on the transformation and creations you want to be a part of as we move forward. There’s a lot going on.

I planted some seeds today; tried something new. Made a commitment and followed through with it – created a container I’ve been wanting to offer for a few months.

As I take my first tentative steps forward, I’ll be writing about it here. Soon. And offering it on a wider scale as I establish my foundations. My heartfelt gratitude goes out to the courageous ‘early-adopters.’

In the meantime, at the moment at least, I’m going to follow Precious’s cue, catch some zzzs, pull the plug and re-set.

(T-376)

Familiars – Day 615

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Spartacus – A Happy Boy – Photo: L. Weikel

Familiars

I adore the four-leggeds with whom we share our life. In fact, I cannot imagine my life without having at least one of them in the family. Luckily for both of us, Karl shares my need to be surrounded by my familiars.

Nothing proves that point more clearly than that we honeymooned on Cape Cod – and adopted a gorgeous solid gray kitten at the ASPCA in Brewster, Massachusetts. Yes, our very first official act as a married couple, on the very first business day of the week following our marriage that weekend, was to drive through Cape traffic instead of going to the beach to see if we could find a kitten to adopt.

Brewster was his name and he was a trooper. While he ruled the roost for a year on his own, he oversaw Karl’s birth and eventually schooled him on the proper way to sneak hard cat food when I wasn’t looking. He gamely and not begrudgingly shared our laps with his ‘little brother’ Karl.

Fast Forward to Today

At the moment we, as you’ve occasionally been made aware, we share our home with two dogs, Sheila and Spartacus, and three cats, Precious, Cletus, and Tigger.

I could write about our beasts every night. Especially lately, they’ve been providing me with an abundance of fodder, some amusing and some sort of hard, but I’ve been trying to hold off.  Last night, however, brought a message that was hard to ignore.

Messengers

After completing my post for the evening, I made my way upstairs. Usually Spartacus is already upstairs with Karl, making a warm spot for me. Sheila, no longer able to navigate the stairs, sleeps downstairs in her soft furry bed. That makes me sad, but she doesn’t seem to mind, so I’ve become resigned to it.

Cletus religiously makes a pest of himself while I’m writing my post (every post, every night) by stomping around if he’s inside, howling to be let out, and then after he’s been outside for about 20 minutes, hurling himself against the screen door out front and sticking to it (with his claws) like Velcro – until his claws slowly rip the screen. That’s how he demands to come back in. He does this a couple times while I’m writing.

Precious is our paranoid one. If anyone came to visit (pre-Covid), she’d disappear and not be seen or heard from again. Not until the interlopers left. She’s mostly a loner, but every once in a while she’ll become frantically affectionate. It’s weird. But we love her. Even if she is a cellar-dweller.

And then there’s Tigger. We inherited Tigger from Sage after he (and his fiancé Sarah, truth be told) adopted him from a pet rescue place in central Pennsylvania. It ended up not being a great look for an RA to be harboring a fugitive kitty, so Tigger relocated to Bucks County. I think I’ve relayed the story of his name elsewhere.

Message to Mommy

Which leads me to the scenario that greeted me when I went to bed last night:

Mouse with Dog underneath – Photo: L. Weikel

I know; right? It’s as if they were lines up perfectly, in some surreal real-life enactment of a Medicine Card* pick! Mouse reversed with Dog underneath.

So freaking weird.

The only one who could’ve set this up would be Tigger. Had Precious participated in this macabre message delivery scheme, she definitely would’ve eaten the head off the mouse. Especially if she wanted to convey is as a ‘reversal.’

So. Tigger? Was that you? Were you behind this message to Mommy?

Tigger – Avoiding My Gaze – Photo: L. Weikel

Hmmph. Good thing I’m not squeamish. Poor mouse.

*affiliate link

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Gooey Thoughts – Day 170

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Precious, looking…precious; – Photo: L. Weikel

My Thoughts Are Gooey

That’s what I’m feeling tonight.

I’m sitting here contemplating what I might write about and it sort of feels like my thoughts are floating but actually maybe more like half-submerged in a lava flow of a substance that’s thicker than syrup but not quite as thick as taffy. And it’s actually not ‘flowing’ anywhere. It’s just slowly, viscously sloshing around between my ears, words and thoughts randomly bobbing up from the depths like logs in a flooding river. Of taffy syrup.

I’m thinking it could be a reaction to the coating of chartreuse confectioner’s sugar on everything outside, especially my car. Spring has indeed sprung forth and inundated us with tree pollen.

Of course, the pollen on my windshield may not be as dramatic as the pine pollen that spray-painted Charlotte, North Carolina gold about a month ago, but it’s significant enough. I feel it in my hair and notice a tickle at the back of my throat after only taking a quick walk this evening. And again, my thoughts are sticky.

Or gooey. Take your pick.

Sometimes we just need to know when it’s time to go to bed. This moment feels like it may be one of those ‘knowing-times.’

Of course, I wish I could embed a recording of the cacophony that is providing the backdrop to my writing tonight. Let’s just say there is significant snorage* happening, and most of it is coming from Sheila, with able assists from Precious, our eldest cat, and Spartacus.

And then I nearly jump out of my skin. Cletus, our long-haired black and white puss has hurled himself against the screen on one of our front doors in an extremely irritating but effective manner he has of alerting me to the fact that he wants to come inside. It sounds as if he has been shot out of a Nerf®cannon and is sticking to the screen with Velcro®.Well, Velcro®with claws. Claws that rip “guaranteed incapable of being ripped” screen material. But again, he lands with a <<BANG>> on the screen, scaring the heck out of me, and then I hear him yowl and yank his claws on and off the screen, basically doing his part to ruin the door.

“Innocence” – Photo: L. Weikel

Ah yes, I love our animals.

I realize I rarely take photos of Precious. That’s because she’s our resident Paranoid Puss. She spends a lot of time in the cellar, of her own volition, because that’s her happy place. Lately, though, she’s been cozying up to me in the morning, nearly turning herself upside down with joy that I’m scratching her head.

In my defense, I’m always game to hold or pet or scratch her. But she’s definitely one of those types who only wants affection on her terms. And those terms are usually arbitrary and capricious – and pretty much when it’s most inconvenient to shower her with affection. Which only feeds her paranoia.

I’ll have to take a photo of her tomorrow.

Wow, well there you go, yet again disproving something I’ve just written. It just so happens she was in the mood for some lovin’s a moment ago, and amazingly stood still enough for me to ‘steal her soul.’ So now you know what she looks like.

I should warn you – this is probably a sign of the Apocalypse.

Yep, she’s messing with me; – Photo: L. Weikel

*Yes, I made that word up. Just seeing if you were paying attention.

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