Posts Tagged ‘cat’
Clutter Kept
Honestly, there were things within the first drawer and over the top of my dresser that have been there for years. When we made the move almost five years ago, I poured everything that had accumulated in the top drawer for the twenty-five years prior into large ziplock bags. Upon arrival to this home in October of 2012, I pushed those bags right back into the drawer to be dealt with later.
Or not.
I have actually found myself digging through the contents a couple of times in the ensuing years, in search of some phantom item from a vague recollection –which I never, ever find– and had the thought that I should probably sort through the bags and bust some clutter.
Over the weekend, Cyndie made a sweeping pass through the house to prepare for a showing to a potential client. Her magical ability to make things disappear from surfaces always excludes my dresser, but this time my mess really stood out to me.
On a whim, (was it connected to the celestial show to come?), I took my shot at Cyndie’s sweeping magic and waded through the clutter on top.
Inevitably, there were a few items to which I couldn’t part.
I slipped them into one of the bags in the drawer. Soon, I realized the bags had to go. I needed space in that drawer for currently active items that had been laying on top. The bags were so full they completely filled the drawer.
Full disclosure: The clutter isn’t busted yet. To save time, I moved the bags into a box, instead of processing the treasure of collectibles contained within. However, in the interest of not totally giving up on the ultimate goal, I set the box –too full to even close– on the floor beside my bed where it would be out of sight to the casual viewer, but where I would trip over it every day until I deal with it.
Any bets on whether I can do five years, stepping around the obstruction?
While I have a hard time parting with treasures, I am getting better at spending a little coin to replace things that wear out. When it comes to my cherished threadbare Carhartt Double Front Work Dungarees, it took an email spam ad touting half-price irregulars to wrench open my wallet.
The three primary pairs in heavy rotation for dirty-work around the property have gotten so ratty as to be entirely fashionable, although not completely safe for public display by anyone with a little modesty. The crotch where Cyndie had sewn patches is now vented around her handiwork.
The kicker last week was when Cyndie came up from the laundry with a six-inch stick about half the diameter of my little finger and asked if I was keeping it for any reason. It was now a clean stick, as it made it through the wash inside the rip of the first layer at one of the knees.
Pequenita put my new replacement pairs through some serious testing as soon as they arrived yesterday afternoon.
Now I will look a little more presentable for the multitude of workshops Cyndie and Dunia are holding in the days ahead to kick off Cyndie’s return to active duty following this summer’s shoulder surgery.
Hopefully, no one will wander into the bedroom and stumble over my treasures that are no longer on the dresser.
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A First
Someone laid an egg. Yesterday afternoon, I found a cute little egg in one of the nest boxes, right where it’s supposed to be. It’s our first. Another milestone to record on the great migration to rural life for us.
Unfortunately, Cyndie wasn’t even here to enjoy it, as she has taken the dog and made a brief weekday visit to the lake with our friend, Melissa and her two daughters.
Maybe that’s why the chicken felt calm enough to lay an egg. Delilah hasn’t been around. The rabbits seem to have figured it out, as they have been making themselves a lot more visible than usual during the last two days.
When I got home from work on Monday, Pequenita seemed to be completely confused about the missing canine. The poor thing seemed extremely wary about not being able to see the looming threat that she has grown accustomed to expecting.
It made her noticeably uneasy. I carried her to the spot where Delilah’s crate is usually situated, in hopes of communicating the message that the dog isn’t here, but it seemed to upset her even more for some reason.
They behave a lot like the cat and mouse of the cartoon “Tom & Jerry,” so maybe, despite the appearance of animosity between them, there is a bond that has grown to mean something special. Although they seem to be constantly at odds with each other, the truth is, they complete one another.
Pequenita is anxious over the disappearance of her other half.
I wonder if she would be interested in a cute little egg as a temporary surrogate.
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Animals Sense
This morning we are headed to an outpatient surgery center for Cyndie’s shoulder repair. The plan is for an arthroscopic procedure to reattach ruptured tendons and clean up any tissue tears, and then clean up arthritis discovered in the MRI done to assess the injury.
The silver lining in this incident is that she hadn’t previously realized the extent of arthritic damage in that shoulder that was contributing to a chronic discomfort she had come to perceive as ‘normal.’
Welcome to the world of chronic Lyme disease outcomes. Sure, she was treated extensively with long-term antibiotics back when her symptoms mushroomed to a level of undeniable evidence, but it’s an imperfect science. Even more so back in the ’90s when she experienced it.
A vast majority of health insurance corporations and plenty of doctors closely associated would like her to swallow the company lines that she is completely cured. We tend to feel the wild litany of afflictions picking away at our sanity every year since that initial treatment are unsurprisingly identical to the long list of Lyme related symptoms listed in medical research reports.
Her debilitating arthritis is just a fraction of the issues she experiences, but at least modern medicine offers clear surgical options to repair or replace arthritic joints.
As frustrating as it is to be going through this routine again, we are at the same time grateful to have this opportunity. We intend to focus on the potential for less pain in that shoulder, and the return of function of her dominant right arm.
I want to know if she will be able to hoist bales of hay again. Hopefully, even better than before.
Our animals seem to recognize she is in a world of hurt since the arm was yanked. Cyndie reported that yesterday Legacy approached her and uncharacteristically, with his head down, ever so gently rubbed up and down her afflicted limb with his nose, as if in acknowledgement of her discomfort.
Pequenita, who generally reserves the majority of her affection for me, has switched allegiance and has been sleeping on Cyndie the last few nights. I spotted her on Sunday, all curled up in a ball with her head turned over, sleeping just below Cyndie’s pillow.
We are all mustering our best Cyndie care-taking energies to guide her through today’s procedure, and then on to recovery and rehabilitation. We’ve had some practice with this. I’m pretty sure we know what to do.
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Resume Ranching
It was a pleasing relief to return home to find our ranch-sitter, McKenna, hadn’t needed to deal with any missing chickens over the holiday weekend. Delilah needed a prompt from her to get up and greet us, but Pequenita practically molested me with affection when I walked in the bedroom.
Cyndie gave the horses a few moments of massage and in a flash we were back in Wintervale Ranch mode.
Once again, before departing for home, we dug up a few trillium plants to be transplanted into our woods.
In the past, we spread them out to several different areas, planting in groups of three. Most of those seem to be surviving, but not necessarily thriving. Yesterday, Cyndie agreed with my idea to put all nine of this year’s selection in one area, with the hope of establishing a little community of transplants.
In the two-and-a-half hour drive home, the plants took on a rather droopy appearance, but after getting them in the ground and adding a little water, they showed signs of perking up a bit.
After work today, I’m hoping to connect with a neighbor who might be able to provide a loaner lawn tractor so I can get grass cut at least one time while awaiting news on the status of our machine.
I stopped by the shop where we took the mower last week, hoping to find out if they had looked at it yet. They hadn’t. I pleaded with the man behind to counter to sneak in a preliminary analysis for me, so I could know as soon as possible whether I needed to be ordering a new replacement, or not.
On Friday, upon arriving in Hayward on the way to the lake, we stopped at Coop’s Pizza for lunch. I told Cyndie that a guy who looked like the man I talked to at the repair shop had just walked in with a family group. As we were driving out of the parking lot, Cyndie read the name of the repair shop out loud.
My initial reaction was to think, “They have a shop up here, too?!”
No, she was reading the information off the door of the guy’s company SUV in the parking lot. That was all the evidence I needed to tell me my sense of recognition was right on.
I sure hope he and their crew will resume repairing today, and that I might get a call with an estimate. It would help me greatly as I resume ranching duties, joining Cyndie when I get home from work.
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Our Time
Our cat, Pequenita, is an indoor cat. For the most part, I think she accepts the fact that she has to share her space with our dog, Delilah, but she does so with a perpetual hesitation. I’ve noticed that when Cyndie takes Delilah outside for a walk, Pequenita will often spring into action and take advantage of the unrivaled access to the main living spaces.
If I am in the kitchen, she will suddenly show up under foot, mewing her staccato chirps and walking loops to repeatedly do the little cat hop-and-rub maneuver.
Sometimes I will bend down or sit on the floor to honor her presence, giving her some extra attention in moments where she is free of the usual interference of the scene-stealing canine companion.
These precious minutes become our time. Interactions that only happen when we are alone together.
I didn’t intend to get tangled up in these secret little affairs with ‘Nita. These moments of intimacy came about because I got frustrated with her penchant for reaching up and burying her claws into my pant legs. When I don’t have on my canvas Carhartt jeans, it can be a scream.
Not being raised a cat guy, my first inclination was to ignore the overly independent presence of cats in our home, but she has decided that I’m her man. Ignoring her was never really an option.
To interrupt her before she gets around to the leg torture, I’ve taken to making the first move by invading her space. I figured it might work in a reverse-psychology sort of way and cause her to behave as though she wanted nothing to do with me.
It doesn’t work.
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She loves me. What can I say?
I’d feel a little like I was involved in an illicit affair that only happens behind Cyndie’s back, except that Pequenita almost always shows this much affection, and more, every night in our bed, right in front of Cyndie’s eyes.
All this attention is a far cry from the general disdain for cats I held over the first 3 decades of my life. I sure never saw this coming. It gets me to thinking, do I need to be careful about what could happen next?
Chickens?
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Modern Convenience
It was sunny and 60-some degrees at our place yesterday. If it weren’t for the modern convenience of accurate weather forecasting giving us several days warning of an impending snowstorm, I would be completely clueless about what is headed our way. By Friday morning, the view of our property won’t look like this again for a while.
I will not be surprised if the alignment of the storm moving in this evening brings us around a foot of snow, based on the models published by the weather services.
Such a significant contrast of weather in just over a day is something I would not be able to comprehend happening without the present day wisdom, and data gleaned from satellites and radar images. My intuitive senses for interpreting the weather are far too dull to perceive that the warm sunshine yesterday afternoon was so quickly going to become a distant memory.
At the same time, it is still February, after all. It’s supposed to be wintery weather. So I am well prepared for whatever cold and blowing snow may arrive. I have my special leg warmer to keep me comfortable while chronicling the brutal challenges I face when plowing and shoveling the oodles of snowflakes inbound on our position.
Pequenita seems to like napping on my legs when I stretch out. It’s cute, but can’t be all that comfortable for her, and it tends to lock down my posture long enough that numbness sets in.
Maybe she is sensing the oncoming storm and wants to keep me safe and warm in preparation for doing battle when it comes time to dig out.
In the mean time, I hope to spend most of the day Friday in front of a warm fire, watching the flakes fly outside the windows.
See ya later, warm sunshine.
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Shared Treats
Cyndie and I have been on a bit of a movie binge lately, cramming to see movies and actors nominated (and winning) for this year’s awards season. During the week, squeezing in a movie after dinner tends to leave Delilah feeling a bit neglected by the end of a flick.
Sometimes, she takes it out on Pequenita, unloading oodles of pent-up energy on the poor little feline. Of course, in very cat-like behavior, ‘Nita doesn’t hesitate to bait the over-zealous dog into stirring up more trouble than she bargained for.
Even though the two house-pets are sole animal companions indoors, their interactions tend to give off a strong aura of faux friendship. Frenemies might be an appropriate description of their relationship.
It can appear to be cute when large Delilah prances over and tentatively sniffs at teeny ‘Nita. The stoic cat looks like she is giving great effort to tolerate the attention, especially when Delilah suddenly unleashes a quick tongue-drag across Pequenita’s back. I get a little grossed out when I offer the cat a scratch on her back and find it’s wet.
The two of them have one venture where they cooperate well with each other, putting their usual antics on hold for brief moments. They meet in the kitchen and bat their eyelashes at Cyndie until she gives in and offers up some kitty treats. They are Delilah’s favorite.
The exercise of shared cat treats started way back when we were first trying to acclimate dog and cat to each other. The first positions were spread far apart, but each subsequent treat was placed closer and closer until they eventually grew comfortable eating side by side.
Cyndie and I have seen 5 of the 9 movies nominated for this year’s Academy Awards Best Picture. I think Pequenita will be happy to have us soon complete the last 4 and get back to having the time to entertain Delilah for a few more hours each evening.
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Holding Court
When the weather outside returns to single-digit cold, there is added incentive to spend a little more time indoors. After work yesterday, I sat down and leaned the recliner back for a little relaxing review of the latest newsworthy offerings from a multitude of front pages on the internet. 
It didn’t take long for our furry friends to join me at that location. Cyndie captured the moment for posterity. I was holding court with our crew.
I read them some of the most outrageous blurbs, but they both ignored the content. Delilah just wanted more scratching, while Pequenita simply wished Delilah would go away.
I switched to telling them tales from this week’s commute to and from work. One morning I had the pleasure of moving in a group of vehicles stuck behind the dreaded slow ambulance with flashing lights.
It moseyed along at a speed about 5 miles an hour slower than the prevailing desired rate of travel. No one dared to pass him, because if you are in front of an emergency vehicle with it lights flashing, you are supposed to pull over and let it pass. Meanwhile, other cars ahead of the ambulance were noticing the lights and pulling over, subsequently becoming added vehicles to our ever-increasing pack.
It was odd to see this huge group of cars slowly “rushing” down the highway together toward their diverse destinations.
On the way home, on a section of divided 4-lane expressway, I spotted a car ahead of me that was having dramatic difficulty maintaining position in the right lane, both crossing the center line and moving off to the right shoulder. It was a little scary to witness. I wondered if it was alcohol related or a case of texting while driving.
I decided to get around the car by passing in the left lane. As I made my way cautiously past, I glanced over to assess the likely reason for the poor lane management. I can’t swear it wasn’t alcohol related, but the easy explanation and my first impression was that it was probably age-related.
The driver was a little old man who could barely see over the steering wheel. I am fairly certain he wasn’t doing any texting.
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Full disclosure: No animals were injured in the creation of this post.
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Look Up
Some very interesting images can be found by looking straight up. A few days ago, I posted a shot looking up a concrete utility pole in Florida. Here is another version of the same pole, after walking around to the other side.
They probably deserve to be shown as a pair. I like the contrast of the opposing direction of the light source between the two.
Meanwhile, I’m back at the day-job, digging out from a backlog of work that piled up while I was away. I was so exhausted when I walked in the door after work yesterday, I laid down for a minute. Pequenita immediately took advantage of my presence and pummeled me with kneading and head-butting in a quest for attention.
I think she missed me.
In a blink, I was no longer blinking. My eye lids stayed down and my brain checked out. It just so happened, my labor wasn’t immediately needed outside. For the first time since Cyndie’s knee surgery on the last day of November, she handled the outdoor ranch duties!
I think the chance to do some extended walking while we were in Florida, away from the icy, snowy terrain, boosted her confidence. Monday night she walked Delilah while I cleaned up manure and filled hay boxes. Yesterday, she did morning and evening chores, drove to a physical therapy appointment, did exercises there, and then went grocery shopping.
Talk about getting back into action. Of course, after dinner it was quickly time to get horizontal for the rest of the night and ice the knee. Fair enough.
It feels like I have come out of the tunnel. Things are definitely looking up.
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Not Fun
You know that part about me driving multiple times to Cyndie’s parent’s house for Christmas events? Didn’t happen. Chalk this one up as “Worst. Christmas. Ever.” for me. At least I didn’t have any problems with trying not to fall asleep behind the wheel.
A dastardly nasty spell of weather foiled my best intentions. We experienced sleet, rain, freezing fog, lightning, thunder, heavy rain, and as a cherry on top, high winds with scarily intense gusts. My Christmas was spent home alone. I might as well have been a character in the movie.
Knowing the impending freezing rainstorm would wreak havoc on roads, we headed out on Christmas eve prepared for Cyndie to stay the night at her folks’ house. I drowsily made my way home through the beginnings of the freezing mist on Saturday night so I could take care of Delilah and the horses.
Sunday morning dawned with a perfect glazing over everything, quickly convincing me I wouldn’t be trying to drive to the cities for the grand gift exchange extravaganza that Cyndie’s family executes with incredible flair. Actually, it was Delilah who convinced me, as she did an immediate slipping-on-a-banana-peel spill off the front steps before she realized the hazardous conditions.
I could have tried to warn her better, but we all know she wouldn’t have listened.
The horses were way out in the hay-field, happily grazing through the snow, so I left them out in the mist for much of the day. The temperature actually climbed a bit, melting some of the glaze by afternoon, but you couldn’t see the difference between frozen and not, which made it doubly dangerous.
I navigated my way around our property by changing my gait to something that looked like I had aged several decades over night. Even with that adjustment, there were still frequent moments of heart pounding panic as I’d catch myself from going ass over teakettle.
By the time it had turned to real rain and become obvious that I needed to get the horses inside for the night, I was fighting both them and the elements to accomplish the task. They stayed out in the field while I prepared their evening feed in the stalls. They made me trudge out in the soaking wet to guide them back to the barn.
The wind howled something awful all night long, making my longed-for uninterrupted night’s sleep an impossibility. At some point around zero dark thirty I figured out the spooky clunk that kept occurring was from a bird feeder hitting the house outside the bedroom. I wasn’t about to get out of bed to do anything about it at that hour, and in that wind, so I just had to get used to the sound enough to ignore it and get back to something close to restful sleep.
Yesterday morning presented with a diabolical combination of standing water (much of it hidden beneath cover of snow), freezing temperatures, and continued strong winds. The slopes around the barn were coated with very slippery ice. I tried spreading sand over them before offering Legacy a chance to bring his herd out for the day. He stopped and surveyed the surroundings, put his nose down to the icy surface, and then turned around to lead me right back into his stall.
They would spend the day indoors.
Cyndie ended up spending another night at her parent’s house. Delilah did well with the crazy weather, too confused by the inclusion of thunder in December to even bark at it. She happily agreed with me to cut our walks to the shortest distance necessary. She and Pequenita became my silent companions, waiting out what nature was serving up, clueless to the joyous family gatherings I was missing.
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She braved the gales with me to inspect the drainage ditch that is backed up a bit with a mixture of snow and water.
It’s going to take some time to get back to decent snow conditions around here, but probably not as long as it will take for me to quit moping about my sad fate this holiday. Only 363 days until I get a chance to replace this year’s Christmas memories with new ones.
Here’s hoping we end up with better weather next year.
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Relative Something 