Here’s Looking at You, Kid!

Finally! Work subsided sufficiently that my blogging brain returned and I knew what I was going to write for a post as soon as I got the chance. But in the meantime, something else happened.

 

In the afternoon, the western sun bathes my office and upstairs bedrooms in warmth and light. Great in cooler weather, not so much in the summer. Anyway, about noon or so each day I go upstairs and open all the windows facing that way so as to soak up as much heat as possible to stave off the chill of the cooler autumn evenings and nights. In the back bedroom, Claude was soaking up that sun on top of a piece of furniture, too, but seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was being closely watched!

Then he realized … it moved! As I moved with my camera, the praying mantis got into prayer/attack position and rotated his head to keep an eye on me. Claude was interested only when he moved, which I suspect has something to do with an animal’s depth perception or ability to comprehend something on the other side of both screen and glass.

These creatures are so bizarre looking, but so fascinating. If they are symbols of good luck, which has been said to me, then I ought to be in for one big bucket-o-luck anytime soon!

Claude, below, not quite knowing what to make of this slow-moving creature. (I’ll get to that other post real soon. This was too good to pass up!)

 

Bathing Beauties

While an endless stream of work flows across my desk – for which I am grateful, albeit bone tired – I noticed not everyone was quite as frazzled as I. In fact, some occupants of this household were completely oblivious of anyone’s efforts to keep their food bowls filled, beds washed, litter cleaned, etc.

It was all I could do not to lie down and nap in that sunshine.

“If I had to sum up Friendship in one word, it would be Comfort.” ~Terri Guillemets

The Spot that Must Be Had

If you have pets or children in the amount of two or more, you will know exactly what I’m talking about. There is an item in your home. It could be a bed, a toy, a bone, a blankie … whatever it is, no one has expressed one iota of interest in it for eons. Suddenly, it becomes THE hot item and everybody must have it. Scuffles, fights, crying ensue … MINE!

Gypsy Rose, above, claiming The Spot for her own.

In the world of my cats, there is a particular bed in a particular spot in my office. No cat has lain there for so long I can’t even remember. I thought of putting it away, but you never know. Suddenly, it is the most desirable spot in my house. If one is on it, the other wants on and vice-versa. There is posturing, some occasional swatting, and that’s it. Usually Claude gives it up to Gypsy Rose. Sound like a familiar scenario?

Easygoing Claude just moves to another spot.

In this case, it’s probably a good thing, because after Gypsy’s last emergency trip to the vet, the dose of prednisone she needed to be on for a month left her quasi-comatose. She ate, went around the house a bit, upstairs to the litter, but was for the most part, a sad lump, and a lump who was gaining more weight which she didn’t need. It worried me; this was no life. After the month, we cut back the dosage to half for the next two weeks. With that, we saw her begin to brighten up. At the end of that two weeks, she gets that dose every other evening. And here’s where it gets tricky.

We, my vet and I, are trying to find the balance between the lowest dose possible she can take and her not having another horrible episode like last time. Her frightening symptoms are caused by inflammation which is in response to something in her brain – very likely cancer, a tumor, etc. So it’s a constant appraisal of how wobbly – or not – she is on her feet. Does her head shake more when she takes her treats from my hands? Such surveillance is not a job I enjoy, but it is how we’re going to keep her going as long as we can.

The bottom line is that Gypsy Rose – also known, BTW, as Bitchy Rose and Miss Bossy Boots – has brightened sufficiently to being back to her old pushy, dominant self. She’s alert and coordinated enough again to be jumping up on the sofa … even the window sill … without falling. I’ve assured Claude that her desiring that spot is actually a good thing. And he seems OK with it.

Me, too.

Happiness and Control

Can you name two things that don’t go together? There they are. Happiness and control.

As long as we are trying to control an outcome, we’re never going to be happy. Imagine right now … say to yourself, “I would really be happy if …” and I’ll tell you that inevitably it will mean that if something or other would just go differently than it is, i.e. how you would like it, you could be happy. This is a lesson that comes up again and again and again. And in every area of one’s life.

Right now for me, both of my animals have serious medical problems, one just discovered within the last week. I would be happy if … this weren’t so; if … I could alter the outcome; if … what ails them could be turned around. None of this is reality. I can do the best I can to comfortably extend their lives for as long as possible. Who knows how long that might be? Surely, not me. And I can enjoy their wonderful company for as long as that is. I can do my best and that’s all I can do. And if I can get my head straight – it seems to come in and out of this – I can actually be happy right now as they have so far lived wonderful, happy lives and given me so much joy. And they will continue to do so for as long as they do.

We all have circumstances in our lives we wish were different. They often involve others, no? But what we need to always remember is that we are all living beings, of one species or another, on our own journeys in this lifetime. I’m not here to control yours. Nor you, mine. I don’t believe it’s our job to keep trying to control how things turn out. We can do our best to be a force for good, but beyond that, we need to trust that the Universe is in order and all is happening exactly as it should.

And there’s the happiness. Not saying it’s easy, but in that peaceful, trusting state of mind, it becomes much easier. Be happy. Me, too.

p.s. The photo is of the happiest plant on my porches. This was not the year of the thriving plants and flowers, but for some reason, this coleus, in a spot I considered probably too sunny, just gets more rich and beautiful every day. Perhaps that’s what I’m talking about.

Home, Sweet Home

This may not look much like Home, Sweet Home, but to this tired kitty it most surely is.

In what amounted to two sleepless nights and endless stress for mama, it was what looked like a near brush with death for Gypsy Rose. In the morning, she started staggering, falling over and had no focus whatsoever. She was not in control of any of her movements. But by the time I left for the vet, Gypsy was sitting, looking at me as if nothing had happened.  Despite a thorough exam, there’s not much to diagnose if everything checks out normal. Perhaps a petit mal seizure, considering Gypsy had experienced similar neurological issues about 9 months ago.

Back home. About 5 hours later, imagine that episode times 5. Unable to stand, nystagmus (rapid back and forth eye movement), and head shaking, Gypsy no longer recognized me. Panicked, with my vet no longer available, I called a friend who suggested her own vet. My friend, bless her heart, came and got Gypsy and badly shaken me and took us there. Gypsy Rose was admitted with no sure diagnosis. A brain tumor or cancer could not be ruled out.

Unable to sleep, I ran the gamut of possibilities – from finding Gypsy passed over in the night at the vet’s to her showing improvement. I was/am totally unprepared to lose another cat after having lost two in the last 5 months. But I couldn’t know if it was her time to go or not. I prayed for Gypsy’s highest and best and that I would know what to do for her.

This morning, two days later, I was told Gypsy was wobbly, but walking, the nystagmus had stopped, and she had begun to eat and drink on her own. I brought her home with her medications. As to what is really going on with her only an $1800 MRI will definitively diagnose. The vets and I have opted for symptomatic treatment.

Gypsy can’t be left alone too long right now. She walks a bit like a drunken sailor, but made a beeline to the water bowl in the kitchen and drank a good long time. She wanted to go upstairs and be under the daybed. I brought my coffee and the book I’ve been wanting to read for days.

So now, with a soft westerly breeze coming in the window, sunshine and blue sky, I lie about 2′ away from her on the floor, reading. Gypsy Rose has closed her eyes and is purring in her sleep. It’s the music I’ve been needing to hear, and in this moment, all is blissfully well.

Losing a loved animal is to lose a part of one’s heart. She and I have been blessed with another chance.