A Purring

I’m one of those people who like to get everywhere early. Punctual. I allowed for traffic and the unforeseen hurdles. So I planned for bad traffic and a delay at the post office picking up the parcel. And low and behold we were more than half an hour early for our vet appointment. There was no traffic at all. It was smooth driving, interrupted occasionally by a wailing cat. He wasn’t happy. Perhaps he thought he was being returned or abandoned. Who really knows. Maybe he didn’t like the music on the radio.

He sat patiently in the waiting room, caged and smoochy. Was expertly avoiding eye contact with the two dogs and the other cat. All was well. We waited. The canary sang behind the counter. The parrot was grumpy. A blanket was thrown over his cage. He napped after that. It was the afternoon of a heat wave.

Once in the consultation room the purring began. A reluctance to get out of the cage, a shyness to show off his inside back leg. Once it was done he was fine. He behaved like a champion, all 4.2kg of him. He has grown, a lot. We met him when he was 400g. He has come a long way.

It was nothing. It was a war wound, a bite or a scratch, licked to death with a ring of bald skin. Made it look worse than it was. He was thinking why did we bother, I could have stayed on the couch. Antibiotics were offered. We obliged. Pills twice a day for the next five days. Ten pink pills to shove down his throat. He won’t like me for ten moments. I wish for a short memory.

Life without booze is freedom. Early appointments are now a possibility. My head is on straight. I can face whatever life throws at me. Okay except the ice machine. I haven’t won that battle yet. The wooden spoon is not winning again the ice buildup. I have jabbed with a bbq fork. And a large knife. Still not working. Patience. Will try again tomorrow. I have read the manual. It’s useless. Might need to call customer service. Will assess if that’s a must tomorrow.

Picked up pizza tonight, washed it down with fizzy drink. Pepperoni, chili flakes extra. Pizza eaten sober is quite delicious. I didn’t opt for the larger pizza. I chose regular. It’s all gone now. Every bite was hot and crisp. Just right. Not a crust left in sight. Today was a carefree day. No gym, no cooking. A be kind to me day.

Two months sober. Yesss. Pizza was my sober treat.

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Waiting for the vet

Attempt to visit the vet yesterday was thwarted by one of my cats. The one that needed to go. I underestimated his determination to want to get outside. Hence, I got home and he was outside wherever and my appointment was looming. No cat. Cancelled appointment. Apologies and rebooked for today. With fingers crossed that he walked in the door later that night. He bowled in at 10pm. I greeted him and then raced to block up the cat door. Tape and cardboard. Lots of it. Mission complete.

The wait continues for the vet. Two unhappy cats who wish to be outside running in the grass pouncing on cicadas and other crawlies. They are going stir-crazy and I hope they don’t get too stressed that they pee somewhere they shouldn’t. The litter tray is unused. They haven’t needed it in some time. They always go outside now.

Heat wave still with us and they are stuck inside. (We are stuck inside.) Unhappy about it too and letting me know. They did so well until 6am. I am still not a morning person and despite that they can do no wrong. Our cats get away with murder. They are spoilt rotten. They deserve it. They flop down when they see one of us coming and demand a belly rub. They wag their tails with delight. I think they might have been dogs in a previous life.

The windows are slightly open, the safety latches firmly allowing a breeze but nothing further. Their attempts to check and recheck are to be commended but there is no escape this time.

Why am I “punishing” the cat that doesn’t need to go to the vet by keeping her inside? Well yesterday I had her “trapped” outside instead. Then I worried that she would think she wasn’t welcome. She came back home in the evening. No hard feelings.

I care for these creatures better than I care for myself. I am selfless with them. As it should be. They had a tough start in life. Rescued cats always do. Now they live a life of exploring, sleeping, eating and unconditional love.

Did I mention that we are still feeding a neighbour’s cat. Not by choice. He is a thief. He steals into the house at odd hours of the day and night and helps himself. He does it around the neighbourhood to other homes too. He is notorious. He should be the side of a house. I wait for the day he can’t fit through the flap. He gets shooed away and yet he still comes back. A persistent one.

He was the one that got stuck in the other neighbour’s treehouse for 4-5 days. And survived. Silly moo.

I’m sure our cats are enjoying this new sober me. No more wine breath.

Managed to somehow stand on a cat’s tail last week. Sober. She forgave me. How could I have been drunk all this time last year and never do it and then once sober go and do it. Of all the odds. Felt so terrible. She still loves me. All is forgotten and forgiven.

The house is quiet. A resigned feeling of what will be will be. They are sleeping again. Peace is restored. Until the cat cage and the journey…