The Big Vet Appointment Part 2

Once I parked the car at the vet's office, I pulled out my handy cell phone and called them. I said I was right outside, and could I please have some help to bring in the carrier and could we go straight into an exam room too?

Both requests were granted. I'd made the appointment the first one after the vets' lunch break in order to ensure the exam room request would be something they could do. 

The girl on the phone was the one that came out to help. She's smaller than I am. She took one look at the carrier and was about to back out when I said I didn't need her to carry it, just half of it. Grab the back end while I carry the front. Oh, she said, that she could do. 

So we paraded into the office and straight into an exam room, past an astonished dog with his owner (so glad we weren't going to be waiting with him!). We put the carrier on the sit-on ledge and then she left. I opened the carrier door. Colby came out after I sat down on the ledge with him--but this meant he had no room to actually come out, and he didn't really want to, after all. He just was touching base with me, apparently. He backed into the crate again.

Apricot poked his head out of the pouch. I'd undone the hook in case he surprised me and got curious and wanted to explore. 

Well, he wanted out of the pouch. He indicated this gently, and I helped him out onto the ledge. He promptly joined the other two in the carrier! Hey! That wasn't the idea!

All three fit, barely.
With a squished Thimble, anyway.

Oh well. If it makes them happier, it doesn't matter if it wasn't what I'd planned. (It's hard for someone with autism to change plans; trust me, it took me ages to get to the point where I could graciously allow something like this to happen--even when I can recognize quickly that the new arrangement is for the best.)

The vet helper came in to make sure they had the right assortment of shots for the right set of cats. And I changed my mind at the last minute and said no shots, even rabies, for Apricot. She was okay with this, which surprised me, since rabies shots are law. But it only becomes an issue if the animal in question bites someone. Given that Apricot hides from anybody who visits (except Sophia last time), and isn't a biting cat to start with, I figure chances are very slim that the situation will arise. And the poor guy reacted so badly to the shots last year. Pippin used to behave kind of like he had a mild cold (minus the sneezing) after his shots. Apricot acted like he had the flu, and a severe case of it at that (again, minus the sneezing and coughing parts). 

So he got just a physical exam. The carrier is high enough I could lift him out rather than pull, which is much better. I figured if he got in the back behind the other two, there was no way I was going to be able to reach him past their bulk, so I got him first. She looked at his teeth (a little tartar--me "oh well, that'll have to stay"), looked at his eyes and in his ears (no medical tool for either), listened to his heart and lungs with a stethoscope, looked at his skin at the base of his tail (this was the part he really didn't like), and checked his butt. 

Next cat. This was Colby, since he was closest to the door. Colby climbed onto my shoulder after the teeth/ears/eyes check. The vet asked if I was good or if I wanted someone to help hold him. That was the first time I realized the normal second person to hold the cat wasn't in the room with us. Wow. I wonder why they did that? I mean, it's what I would have asked for had I realized I could ask for it, but I hadn't. 

Anyway, I said I was good. Colby I know I can hold. I held him away enough for her to get the scope against his chest, and then of course when she listened to his lungs (against his back) that wasn't a problem with him against my shoulder, nor was the rest of the exam. 

He got the three year rabies and the various cat illnesses vaccines--two needles, one in each back hip. Neither vaccine set has adjuvants (which have been linked to injection-site cancer in cats), and using the 3 year rabies means they will get less shots over their lifetimes. Cats, unlike humans or dogs, have a weird response where they have a tendency to get cancer at the injection sites. This is why they no longer get shots in their shoulders, but have them in their limbs instead, where, if necessary, you can amputate. 

And then she told me he had a quiet heart murmur. As opposed to a loud murmur, actually (I asked). And she couldn't tell if it was an innocent heart murmur or if it was an indicator of a heart disease without an ultrasound. I said well, then I guess I'm getting him an ultrasound in two years. After the appointment was over and I was waiting for them to use my credit card, she poked her head back in the room and said I could probably get an ultrasound in about 3 months, since he'd be a year and a half by then. If I wanted to. I'm thinking about it.

So after Colby, I put him back on the ledge and scooped out Thimble. Colby didn't actually go in the carrier; he went behind it in the little triangle of space formed by the fact that it wasn't completely against the wall at the front as I'd pulled the opening toward me a bit. 

I wasn't sure about holding Thimble--he's so strong; but he behaved himself despite acting all scared in the carrier. Colby actually seemed less scared of the vet situation than Thimble! 

Thimble was fine; no heart murmur. He got his shots and back into the carrier he went. 

I asked if she'd felt that odd muscle issue with Colby. I had to describe it; I came up with what I thought was a good way. If you have both of them standing, and you push gently in the hollow right before their back legs, Thimble will stagger, right himself, and glare at you. Colby will fall over. 

She said she hadn't felt anything strange with Colby, and suggested that it might be I was looking at it backwards (she didn't say it that way). It might be that Thimble is unusually strong and Colby is normal. She said she did notice that Thimble has a lot of muscle mass. I nodded and added that I have often suspected him of running laps when I was at work.

Thimble, still on the exam counter, then tried to get in the pouch. Headfirst. If you're as big as he is, you can't get in it that way. I have to put them in feet first and scoop the back feet out from under them so they'd be folded over. And even then I don't know that Thimble would fit considering how little of him he managed to get in headfirst. He wasn't giving up, either, so I had to remove him forceably. Poor guy. I let him go back in the crate with Apricot and he was very glad to hide. 

They did the checkout in the room (well, took my card and came back with card, rabies tags (2), and receipt). And said someone would be with me to help me carry them out. 

Apricot and Thimble were in the crate together. Thimble was behind Apricot, despite having been put in second, and Apricot gave me a look. "Leave me here in the crate." I wasn't sure about this. But there were the facts in front of me. Thimble and Apricot were inside together, and Colby was outside. By choice. For all of them. 

So I put Colby in the pouch (folded so he'd fit--he folds better than Thimble) and closed the door on the other two. And waited, and waited, and finally lost patience and decided since I was missing four pounds from the carrier, I'd just take it out myself. 

When I emerged, a lady with a (normal-sized) cat carrier by her chair in the waiting room came to help me very hastily. She took the entire crate somehow, although I was trying to help, and by the time she got the whole thing, a waiting guy came to our rescue and lifted the crate all by himself, like it weighed nothing.

Men and their <GRRR> upper body strength!

It came in handy, though, I'll admit! He carried it out to my car like he was carrying a four pound dog. He put the crate in the backseat for me, and I thanked him (and tried not to sound too amazed). I got in the front seat (and Colby tried to go up over my shoulder out of the pouch, and was foiled by the hook and by my hands). I put on the seatbelt (it slides under the pouch and behind the cat so it's holding me, not the two of us). 

The whole ride home, Colby's upper half was resting on my arm or shoulder. He didn't say a word. No complaints came from the back seat either. They didn't even complain when I woman-handled the crate into the house. (Can't say "man-handled" as I'd just had proven to me that it wasn't heavy enough to man-handle!)

I opened the crate door and the two in there left post haste. Colby I unhooked and poured out of the pouch on to the floor.

Apricot couldn't go in his favorite hiding place, under the couch, because I'd shut the door to that room an hour before the vet appointment, before I even put harnesses on them. (Sometimes I show forethought.) So he disappeared somewhere else for a very short amount of time, and then he came and went into his Ops deck "hideout" and glared at everyone and everything for a few hours. 

Thimble and Colby were back to normal in about fifteen minutes--or less. Thimble only took a few minutes to achieve normality. He even watched me unstrap the carrier, and promptly got in it, to show me that it was still his bedroom and he still wanted it.

There's no bad reaction from either of them from the shots, which I was hopeful about. Apricot is back to normal, his happy-go-lucky self. He is getting more resilient, I think. It takes him less time to bounce back each time something scary happens.

So the big vet visit has been accomplished, and I don't have to worry about that till the end of next December. And maybe it won't be quite so warm next December 31st. 

Next day note: My shoulder is very sore. Quite, quite sore.

The Big Vet Appointment--Preparation

Today was the day all three went to the vet for their shots and annual physical exam.

May I just pause here to register a complaint? The whole point of going at the end of December is so the temperature isn't warm enough to make the car uncomfortable for the three long-haired cats when we first get in. It was 68 degrees F today. And sunny. Hardly the temperature I was looking for (although to be fair, I do like warm better than cold. I just wanted cold for the cats, not me.)

Anyway. All year long I've been debating in my head how to get all three cats to the vet at the same time, keeping in mind the following:

• Apricot scares easily
• So does Colby
• Colby and Thimble did not like being in a big open space coming home from Ginger's house (the breeder) and so probably won't like being in the Sturdi car carrier again (it spans the back seat and is large and open)
• Colby and Thimble went together in one carrier with their litter mates whenever they went to the vet as baby kittens
• Thimble chewed his way through the mesh of a non-plastic carrier in less than half an hour

Making up my mind at the very last minute, I ordered a 28" (long) carrier made of plastic with a metal door. It is rated for 20-30 pounds, and the two Coons together are 30 pounds (well, technically 31.5 pounds). That arrived last night. It was really easy to put together, too. 

It's also Thimble's new bedroom, as his old carrier had gotten so small for him that I felt like I was being cruel to put him in it all night. Traveling to a vet and back in that carrier would be fine. However, I can't carry two of those carriers (one on either side) so that's why I didn't get another one.

Thimble in residence

Thimble was thrilled to have a new bedroom and went in and out multiple times, lying down inside to show me just how much better this one was than the other one. Even though the food bowls that hook on the metal grid of the door haven't arrived yet (had to order straight from the manufacturer), I let him use it as his bedroom last night. He was very pleased.

But if you can tell in the photo, it has no handle in the middle. This is on purpose. A molded plastic handle would rip out under the weight of the 30 pound dog you are supposedly putting in the crate. I still needed a way to carry it, though, and I couldn't carry it up against my body, one arm around each end, because of the third cat. 

Apricot was planned to go into the kangaroo pouch I have to wear to carry a single cat in. The Coons together in the huge carrier, and Apricot in the pouch. Since he's not always comfortable with them, because they think he's still the bigger cat like when they first got here. And sometimes they forget that they have to be a little careful around him.

So this morning I went to Lowes and described what I wanted to do. I had in mind cable loops. They came up with something better. There are these rubber straps that are kind of like bungee cords only they don't stretch, and the hook through the ends comes out.

Strap contraption side view

Strap contraption-handle (yes, my hand fits)

This is how I did it. The longest strap wasn't long enough, so I put two together on each end. I took the hook out of the end of one of each set and connected them with the single hook instead of putting the hooks together (tried that originally and then thought, dummy, this'll work better without slipping apart if you don't use two hooks). 

The metal connector on the top was the biggest one they had and just suits my hand as a handle, so lucky me for having small hands, as much as I cursed that when I was playing the piano. (Try reaching the tenths Beethoven created in the left hand when you can barely reach an octave. Aggravating. Guy composers and their huge hands.)

I put clothes on the cats about half an hour before I loaded them up, so as to hopefully disconnect the two events. Cat clothes are their harnesses. Apricot's is not an H harness, it's a figure 8, and I hadn't put it on him since October of last year. Took me a minute to figure it out! During which time Apricot was not particularly pleased with me.

The Coon boys were a little antsy when I put the harnesses on but not much. It really helps that they spent most of their babyhood wearing harnesses constantly. And when Apricot was walking funny and insisting that he couldn't move properly wearing this thing, Colby jumped on him and made him fight back, thus illustrating that yes, he could move properly. Apricot actually protested out loud at one point during the battle. I threatened to "come over there". Colby immediately backed off. Odd, because I've never actually "come over there". I just have to say something and the two (whichever two it is) pause and let the other one rearrange or leave, depending.

Then I put Colby in the carrier and shut the door. He gave me the evil eye. He knew something was UP. I put Thimble in shortly thereafter. He went in easily, noticed Colby, turned around and gave me a puzzled look through the now-closed gate. "Mom? My brother's in here too. What's going on?"

Apricot got popped into the kangaroo pouch I was now wearing and promptly hid inside it (this is the point). 

Now came the hard part. Get the carrier to the car. And in to the back seat.

It was heavy. It was big and awkward. And I managed it. My arms still feel weak. It helped that the boys were lined up side by side and stretched out, so their weight was distributed across the entire carrier. This was not the case when we returned--both cats in the carrier were at the back as far as they could get from the door, leaving the thing even more awkward to lift and move.

This carrier has tiedowns. Which are nothing but holes in the middle ledge part. I used two of the extra hooks from the rubber straps to provide a hook for the seat belt latch to go over, thus pulling the carrier against the seat back and keeping it from rocking forward when I stopped. (As I am not an engineer type person, I was fairly proud of myself for figuring this out.)

Apricot and Thimble were quiet the whole trip to the vet. As per his reputation as a whiner, Colby kept making complaints at irregular intervals. Apricot seemed scared but calm, if that makes any sense. He wasn't really upset. He even poked his head and one paw out of the pouch, looking out the driver's side window at the cars. I drove one-handed and kept the other hand around him (well, around the pouch he was in) as reassurance. The pouch has a hook that attaches to the harness of the cat inside it for security, so I wasn't needing to "keep him inside" or anything like that. 

And we arrived at the vet office, safe and sound. 

In Which The Maine Coons Are Mirrored

They hang out in here sometimes...

Closing out the Year with A Car Accident

So that happened.

I was in a hurry. This shopping center was near an intersection with a red light. People often think they are going to turn left out of the shopping center and end up changing their minds and turning right out of desperation when they discover the traffic never stops coming, despite the light. (There's an "always right yield" lane that contributes to this.)

I know all this. But I was in a hurry. So I pulled up next to the Toyota Highlander planning to turn left, since I was planning to turn right to go home. The Highlander changes his mind and turns right anyway. Without looking.

My car didn't stand a chance.

Luckily, it was low-speed, and my bumper absorbed all the force just like it is supposed to. In fact, I thought I'd just have a scrape when I got out to look, from the sound of it, since I hadn't felt a bit of shudder or shake inside the car.

Nope. There'd been more force than that, and the entire corner was staved in. 

Even more luckily, the Toyota Highlander driver was a very nice young man who took responsibility for it (instead of trying to "hedge" his way out) and did so on the phone with his insurance company. He had asked me if I thought we should call the police, and, not really wanting to for something this minor, I replied that perhaps we should call our insurance companies and ask them if they wanted us to in order to have a police report. (No, we didn't have to call the police out. Whew.)

We both dutifully took pictures of our cars--his truly was nothing but paint scrapes and he said he had a friend who'd take care of his car for him--and each other's licenses and insurance cards (hey, it's easier than trying to find something to write all the info down on).

His car got scraped a little.

His insurance company fixed my car at a body shop that's five minutes from where I work--coincidence, not their doing on purpose. It was a huge body shop and I was very impressed. They used the same bumper, just took it off my car and reshaped it back again and repainted it. They unfortunately for me didn't repaint the entire bumper, just that part, and blended the paint into the rest of it. 

It would have been nice to get a free repaint of the circle I'd put on it the first year I'd got it, on the other side!

This all happened over Christmas--they took my car on the 23rd and gave it back on the Monday after Christmas. They put me in a white Chrysler 300 for a rental, and while it was obvious this was supposed to be an "upper part of the line" car (probably not top of the line), that car sucked. The sight lines were horrible. I could barely back up; I couldn't tell where the front of the car ended or where the back ended ... someone told me Chryslers are notorious for this. I know what kind of car I'm not buying next.

The Thursday after I got it back, the lovely warm unseasonable weather we'd had over Christmas finally snapped, and it went cold fast. The headlight on that side suddenly accumulated a great deal of condensation inside it. 

That had never happened before. The other headlight didn't do that. So I figured we're talking microscopic fracture that let water in but was not easily seen. I called the insurance rep at the shop.

They did not argue with me. They did not try to make it "caused by wear and tear". They didn't do anything like that. They just said bring it in; they looked at it, said, "we'll fix it" and sent me away till they had the part (they had to order it). Then they fixed it after work on Wednesday while I waited in the shop. Took less than an hour.

Well, I gotta say, I'm impressed. The whole thing was much less trouble than I thought it was going to be. And after having my car banged up and dented twice in one year, I'm kind of getting used to dealing with insurance companies and I think I'm getting the hang of this.

In Which I Tuck Colby into Bed

No, he doesn't sleep this way at night, more's the pity.
He was just so fast asleep next to me that
he let me "tuck him in" without leaving.

Anniversary of Homecoming

One year ago today I brought home two 5 pound bundles of sweet, gentle, adorable kittens.

Quite the cute tiny kittens, aren't they though?

They were so tiny! Now they are triple that size. I can't really call them adorable anymore (to my mind you have to be small to be adorable), but they certainly are lovely cats, and they are still sweet and gentle. 

Thimble's in the sink. He's his mother's son all right.
(She used to sit in the sink to watch over her kittens.)

Colby, looking regal. He isn't. 

We've been through a lot this past year. They grew so rapidly that it was astonishing to me and confusing to poor Apricot. Having them around has been difficult at times, as training kittens to be house-friendly, especially giant kittens, is not an easy task. Although I will admit these are better than most, as they came somewhat pre-trained from Ginger, the breeder. (For example, I never had to tell them not to play with tissues. As someone with allergies, I appreciate that!)

But I'm so very glad I have them. The interplay of their different personalities has been so fascinating to watch, and they are so wonderful to be around, to hold and hug. I love that they like to be hugged, as many cats do not appreciate that sort of interaction! Thimble will even initiate hugs, something he's started doing recently. 

Apricot has benefited from their presence as well. He's no longer quite so scared of anything new, and will often watch from a distance as Thimble and Colby investigate something, or look to them for signs that he should be alarmed or not about this new noise. And after they give the all-clear, he'll come investigate things himself, which is a great improvement over hiding from everything. 

Recently I got out the drill to fasten a stairway to their cat tree. It originally belonged on this one side but the placement of the tree didn't allow for it. I'd attached it somewhere else, but poorly, and it had fallen under one of the Coons' weight, and they weren't even using it as a stair at the time, just a foot in the wrong spot. Then I discovered if I attached it to the top of the first platform, it was just the right height to go from the platform to the fireplace's raised hearth. 

Apricot had encountered the drill before, when I'd put up a light-blocking curtain over my doorway to allow him to come and go as he pleased while I slept without light invading the room. I'd made quite a big deal of letting him investigate it (before it was on) and telling him it was going to make a dreadful noise but I had it under control, and he had actually stayed in the hallway while I did the drilling. (I have drywall, so anything heavy I want to hang from the wall--like a curtain rod and heavy-weight curtain--has to use drywall screws ... and you have to use a drill for that.)

But the Coon boys weren't here yet, and I hadn't used the drill since. 

This led to an interesting experience where there was something alarming going on, but Apricot knew (smugly) what it was and Thimble and Colby did not. I swear he was almost grinning as he watched them be various forms of alarmed. (They were okay with it after a little bit, and Thimble was so okay with it after the first pilot hole was drilled that I had to push him away so I could safely drill the second pilot hole!)

It's really been amazing watching their personalities develop. I wonder if this is part of why (some) people love to be parents (of baby humans). They (both kittens and human babies) have personalities as babies, sure, but those personalities really grow and change as they grow physically.

Thimble thinks he is the brave one. He always is the first to investigate. When I have human visitors, he's my greeter cat. (And why I felt it necessary to specify human visitors, I don't know--it's not like I invite strange animals to come over.) But it's all bravado. If he's truly frightened, he can't deal with it and wants to run and hide just like Apricot. 

I discovered this one day when I took him outside (in my arms), thinking he would be fascinated by all the smells and new stuff, but instead he was terrified and wanted so bad to go back inside that I felt horrible about the whole experience.

Yet his bravado gives the other two courage; they follow his lead so when he pretends to be all brave and investigates the new people, or objects, they are less likely to be afraid and will come investigate too (Apricot with the notable exception of people).

Colby, my poor baby, is turning into my scaredy-cat. When I was gone for the funeral, he hid with Apricot under the couch. He's also best friends with Apricot, so I'm not sure how much was "Colby being scared" and how much was "reassuring Apricot".

But Colby won't ever investigate things first. Thimble has to do it. And Colby is scared of things he has no experience with. Okay, the unknown is scary. I totally understand that. It's a driving force in my own life. However, for contrast: Apricot's fears are based in reality. His fear of people and his fear of thunderstorms are based on his experiences with those things. But when it comes to things he hasn't encountered, he's willing to give them a chance. One chance. And Thimble has to investigate first. Still, he's not allowing fear of the unknown to control him. Much.

Unlike Colby. And I really feel for Colby, because his approach to life is rather like mine, in that fear of the unknown defines him. I wish I had had the ability to take both him and Thimble into lots of new environments back when they were baby kittens. Baby kittens have no fear of anything. And that's the sweet spot for getting them used to all sorts of things. Oh well, too late now.

It seems too short to have been a whole year. I was so anxiety-ridden when I brought them home that I put them in the nursery, made sure they were okay with the room and knew where the food, water, and litter box all were, and then left the building because I was so scared. Not of them, or of anything in particular. That's the nasty thing about anxiety. It's quite often fear without a cause, so you can't investigate, you can't reason your way out of it; all I've found to do is remove myself from the situation causing it.

Now, with their help, I can't imagine having to do that, to leave them like that. They are my relief from anxiety, and being with them makes things better. Spending time with them is restful (mostly) and reassuring (mostly). 

I am so glad they are in my life, my two Maine Coon boys and Apricot, too, even though this isn't his anniversary date post!

In Which Thimble Looks Elegant (and then a Dork)

Thimble, looking regal and elegant

A split second later, and he looks
like a self-satisfied dork!

In Which Colby Poses with My Cat Purse

I don't know. I really don't know.
But he looked really cute there so who cares?

The Ghost of Christmas Present

After Christmas at my parents' house in the morning, I spent most of the rest of the day at home with the cats. I was tired and wanted to lie down and close my eyes for a little bit. I didn't feel like a full sleep type nap, just resting.

So when Thimble kept pestering me, I didn't remove him like usual, just put up with it.

And after a while I drifted off, aware that he had come and curled up against my hip. He wasn't on top of me, just right close beside me. I could feel his weight pushing the covers down against me and the coil of his body mass in the bed.

When I woke, I decided to let him know I was available for pestering again, and pulled my hand out from under the sheet to pet him.

My hand met nothing but the top of the comforter. Yet still the heavy, circular weight of a curled up kitty rested against my side, on top of the sheet covering me underneath the comforter.

For a long moment, I was almost convinced it was Pippin's ghost, the ghost of Christmas past, so to speak.

But then I remembered that darn cat likes to burrow, and I reached in between the sheet and the comforter, and encountered thick long warm fur and a very happy Thimble. Who became less happy when I extracted him with an exasperated, "would you stop doing that!" comment.

Why a long-haired warm cat likes to burrow under the covers I will never understand, but I don't want him doing it in the bed because I don't wash those blankets every week and he'll create a nice warm moist spot for dust mites to multiply if he sleeps there, breathing out warm moist air.

So I had the ghost of christmas present. Only he wasn't a ghost, just a very solid Thimble.

In Which Colby Likes a Different Closet

The dress closet

Every time I make the bed I have to get a new set of closed-cell foam strips out of the dress closet's upper shelf. I use these to "raise" the head of the bed a bit, under the mattress pad. They get squished by my weight so I change the set out each week.

Colby loves to be in the closet under the dresses and when I ask, "anybody wanna play in the closet?" he comes running.

'Twas the Night Before Christmas, inspired by Colby and Apricot

Twas the night before Christmas,

And all through my home,

All was NOT quiet,

The cats; they did roam. 

The four-footed children,

Hardly snug in their beds,

All were out playing 

Mighty battles, instead. 

Not meow, nor a growl,

As they played in great fun,

Just thumps and thuds 

As battles were won. 

They scared off the Claus, 

They scared off Kris Kringle, 

They scared off the reindeer 

And the sleigh that goes jingle

No presents for kittens, 

Not even a tree,

But we don't need gifts 

All we need is fam'ly.

---

This was inspired on the night of the 22nd by watching Colby and Apricot play. Colby was minding his own business, sitting upright quite calmly in the middle of the living room. Apricot walked up. Colby saw him. Apricot made sure Colby saw him first. And then he barreled into Colby's shoulder, showing an admirable grasp of physics as he used Colby's weight against him to knock him down. 

He gave him no time to recover, but pounced on his head and proceeded to have a glorious wrestling session. Colby was quite enthusiastically participating, too. You know how I've said that when they got bigger than Apricot he didn't want to play with them until they figured out how to do it without overwhelming him. Colby stayed down on the floor, wrestling with mostly just his front half, while Apricot got to be full-body attacker. Every so often Colby would bring his back legs into play to get Apricot out of a particularly good hold, but most of the time, it was just Colby's front half and all of Apricot. And that is because Apricot, this way, is only slightly bigger than Colby's front half!

It was also inspired by the fact that I have no tree or decorations, because I didn't have time to teach them to leave said objects alone. I'm hoping that next year, when they're older, it won't take as much teaching as it would have this year. 

So Merry Christmas, as I inflict poetry I wrote on you once again!

In Which Apricot Approves the New Cat Tree

His approval has been given

I got a new cat tree for the kitchen and moved the old one next to one in the living room that, having space for only one cat in front of the window, had been a source of conflict. Apricot rapidly took up residence in the new tree. (It helped that it was the same as the old one in shape. Just a different color carpeting.)

In Which Colby is Borked

He starts out nice and neat and then ends up like this.

Colby likes to sleep in my closet, in the corner. He really wants a crate like Thimble has, which he shows me by sitting in Thimble's crate quite often during the day. But for napping, he wants to be with me ... so he ends up in the closet corner.

Gone for Three Days--Dreadful!

Well, the trip to attend the funeral went well enough, I suppose. I mean, it's sad and lots of people, and emotions and lots of people aren't things I do more than adequately at the best of times.

On the other hand, it was my family, and I love my extended family. I love all my uncles and aunts and almost all of them were there. I got to see the group of them three different times and interact with them and that was wonderful.

I think I got hugged more times in that three days than I had been touched in the previous decade. (I hate to be touched so I don't normally let people do it, but I make exceptions for family and exceptions for needing human contact, which people usually need in times of stress.)

I stayed at the same place my parents were staying, with my cousins G--- and A---.  (I don't have permission to use their names--they might be okay with it but I haven't asked, so they get initials.)

They were great--both with accepting another guest at the last minute (did I mention I made the train ticket reservations the same day I left?) and with just general hospitality. A--'s cooking is absolutely marvelous. She protested she didn't even spend that much time on it. At which point I'm like, how? How did you make all that food, and food that tasted like that, with "not that much time"? (Because I never have that much time, either.)

She told me and showed me a little of her cooking secrets, and I've applied them already in my own life. They aren't really secrets. You know them, I'm sure. For instance. It never occurred to me that you didn't have to eat an entire hard-cooked egg in your salad. Doing so kind of dictates the size of the salad. I didn't realize you could cut one up and then put just a little bit in a little side salad, and put the rest in a sealed container in the fridge for the next day. So you can have a side salad with your regular meal instead of having either "salad" or "something else."

I went for my normal hour walks while I was there. Although they were too polite to say anything, I think they thought I was crazy. They live way out in the country, but that just means the road was two lane and high speed, with no shoulder and fields on either side. I had to step off the road and wait for cars, trucks, and buses to go by, in order not to force them to drive on the other side of the road. My walks sometimes took a little longer than others due to how many times I had to do this.

There was a cow farm I walked past, and the cows were very interested in me. And they moo'ed at me. At home when I go for walks, I get barked at by dogs. Here it was cows. I found this very funny.

I also found it hilarious that cows say the word "moo." Literally. It's like finding a dog that says "bark" instead of making dog barking noises.

Since my train back would get me home Saturday morning at 5 am, and my parents were driving back on Friday, and would get me there by Friday night, I asked if I could go along and drive if they wanted me to.

I guess they wanted me to because I drove the whole way back! The car they had was easy to drive, though, and I think I like having the seat higher off the floor and may look for that feature in the next car I buy, whenever my Prius is no longer viable.

The cats were ecstatic ... eventually. At first they weren't quite sure. After all, I looked like me and I sounded like me but I certainly didn't smell like me. Colby and Thimble investigated my luggage again to give themselves time to think. Apricot just hung back and listened to me talk to them. I offered "Apricot Cuddles" and he almost came in front of me where this takes place after I sit down in the kitchen, but he couldn't quite do it so he bumped my hand apologetically and backed off again.

But once they decided that I was really me after all, then they were extremely glad to see me. Ginger warned me they'd "punish" me for leaving, but they never did, unless you call being extremely clingy for a week punishment. I just enjoyed having velcro kitties. (Thimble is always a bit of a velcro cat anyway, though.)

I found out (during the trip--I was texting my friend every night to see how the cats were doing) that Colby (shame on him) was hiding under the sofa with Apricot. I don't think he would have been doing that if he hadn't had Apricot's example to follow though.

Thimble, on the other hand, was even talked into playing with a wand toy a bit. My friends really tried to take good care of them, but it's hard when you only get to see one of the three (and Colby's eyes reflecting out from under the sofa when peered in at).

They get weighed every week, and I discovered that during that week they all lost weight. Apricot lost nearly half a pound (and when you only weigh 12 pounds and some, that's a lot). However, as I write this it is two weeks later, and they've all gained weight this week. Thimble even managed to get back above 16 pounds. Apricot didn't gain it all back--I hope he doesn't actually, as he is a little chubby at the moment.

So the trip didn't seem to damage the relationships between the four of us at all, and in some ways, they seem to have strengthened. Yesterday morning when I woke up I had Colby on the one side next to my head (which is not unusual; happens randomly) but I also had Apricot sleeping on the other side of my head. Which is highly unusual and never happens. He often comes up to see me on the bed after I wake up in the morning but before I get out of bed, but I've never woken up to have him there asleep next to me. He didn't do it this morning, but then, Colby doesn't always sleep on the bed with me either.

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

It reduced down to just a train, thank goodness. I wasn't up to navigating all three (a plane flight, a train trip, and a rental car). But at the beginning of the planning, all three were actually a (dreadful) possibility!

One of my uncles passed away suddenly, and as I really wanted to attend the funeral, I overcame my normal autistic "change=bad; must stay home" impulses (and don't think it was easy) and found a way to get there.

By train. This is the first time I've been on an American train. I was in Europe, once, 17 years ago, and I rode their trains, but I've never been on Amtrak before. It's interesting. I think I may pony up the money for a sleeper car next time since the route I have to take starts at 11 pm and finishes at 12 noon the next day, and I have discovered coach, while far more comfortable than a plane, has just a few too many strangers moving through and disapproving attendants for my ability to handle ... graciously.

This is also the first time I've been away from the boys (my cats) overnight. I hope desperately that they'll be all right. A trusted friend of mine is looking in on them, but you know Apricot isn't going to come out and be okay with her. Thimble's been acting insecure for weeks now, a phase he's going through, but me disappearing isn't going to help that phase be any shorter.

And I'll be gone for three nights if you count the one I left in the middle of the night. Thimble won't be crated on those nights. So I have no idea what will happen with the power balance between him and Apricot. It's possible this will be a good thing in that having Thimble patrolling night and day will allow Apricot to hide and pretend it's all not happening, while Thimble's mind is occupied with the patrolling bit, and both of them end up having the time pass faster until I get back.

They aren't your stereotypical aloof cats, and I really am worried about them.

His fluffy tail doesn't fit.
Of course it's Thimble who actually climbed in!

They didn't know what the suitcase was about, of course, so they were fascinated. I was trying to explain what would be happening, especially the part about me coming back, but I think Apricot was the only one paying attention who got it even a little bit, because he kept giving the luggage and me strange looks, while Thimble and Colby were all over the bags.

And Colby? I have no idea how he'll handle my absence. He could be fine, or he could be left more insecure than Thimble is at the moment. He has been exhibiting a desire to be held and picked up and carried more often, and it doesn't seem to be rivalry with Thimble (who loves to be toted everywhere), but more a simple desire to be close. He generally picks times Thimble is occupied with something else to ask me for cuddles, which means he's not trying to rival Thimble's time with me.

Back to the train: I had to sit next to someone most of the night (his stop happened around 7 am) so I've gotten very little sleep. My stop is at noon or one: I forget if it's 12:ish or 12:55.

The train at my home station
We seriously have a pitiful train
station. You have to climb into the
train using temporary stairs. Even
the tiniest stops in the middle of
nowhere had a platform! My home
town needs to get with it!

Also it took me till 5 am to figure out that I was now small enough (referring to my precipitous weight loss two years ago) that if I flipped up the leg rest part of the seat (a wonderful feature of the train!) and curled up, I could lay flat on the seat and sleep. Next time I'll know. (Sigh. Did it have to take me all night to figure this out?)

A train walks more like a boat; a plane walks like a bus. By that I mean when you walk down the aisle of a plane, it feels like walking down the aisle of a moving tour bus. Yes, occasionally you can hit a "pothole" but all in all, it's got the same motion and the same rumbling forward feel underfoot. With a train, it moves from side to side in a lurching motion that is practically impossible to get used to. I've never been on a boat, (except a cruise ship so big you couldn't feel the motion of the ocean so that doesn't count), but I imagine the sensation would be much the same.

But they let you take water and food and pretty much anything except pets on a train, which is nice for someone like me who drinks lots of water. I got plenty of experience walking down the train aisle to the end of the car where the bathrooms were.

And they did something I thought was really nice. At night, they didn't announce the stops over the intercom like they did during the day. Instead, when you got on, a conductor asked you where you were getting off the train, and then wrote down the three-letter abbreviation that they've all got memorized, and put the piece of paper above your seat. When the train arrived at a stop, the conductors would walk down the aisles looking at the papers above the seats, and if they found one that matched they'd wake the person up and tell them this is your stop. If you weren't already awake, that is.

During the day, they announced the stops over the intercom and while the conductors walked the aisles, it was mostly to help you find your way to the correct door to leave, not to tell you it was your stop. (Sometimes the places the train stopped were small enough that you would have to go up or down the train to find the open doors since the train was longer than the available train platform and they weren't going to let you just hop out on your own.)

And at night the lights were dimmed, too. It was really quite considerate.

My brother says train engines make plenty of electricity, more than they need, actually, and so as a result, every seat had a normal, 120 volt plug available. Most people had varying forms of phones/tablets plugged in while they were using them, if they weren't sleeping.

There was a lounge car and a dining car. Think movie theater food capability (hot dogs, etc) vs a restaurant, albeit with a limited menu. The dining car was expensive for the type of food it was serving, but the lounge car had reasonable prices. I didn't partake of either, though; I had brought snacks and after staying awake all night combined with the swaying motion of the train, I wasn't actually hungry even for my snacks. I wasn't sea-sick or anything. Just wasn't hungry.

It echoes. Beautiful to look at but painful to listen to!

Then when I got to my first stop, we got there early, and I was facing a four hour layover in the train station. Granted, it was a big, beautiful train station. It also echoed like crazy. My autism does not do echoes well. I was rapidly approaching the "I can't handle this" stage and I'd only been there five minutes.

So I went to the information desk and explained the situation and asked if there was an alternative to the wait. I was rather expecting to be told that I'd have to get a rental car and drive to my destination (which would have been an hour drive, not bad, really) but instead he goes, in a bored tone, "Train 43 leaves for L--- in 30 minutes. Stair 7. You don't have to change your ticket."

Of course the echoes were so bad I had to have him repeat it, which made him testy, which made me even less able to handle things, but I got the concept in time to go stand in line for train 43 and call my dad and ask if he could come pick me up from the train station a wee bit earlier (like 3 hours earlier) than we'd planned.

My parents had driven up during the day that I'd left in the middle of the night on the train, which is why they were already there.

My dad was willing and able to pick me up earlier, but of course in the middle of the phone call, the lady comes by asking what stop we were all leaving at. That was multi-tasking I didn't manage well but since I confused my father on the phone and not the busy lady, and I could explain what happened to him after I answered her, it was okay.

Turns out the commuter train apparently breaks apart at some point in the journey and part of the train goes one way and part goes the other, so if you're going to a certain set of stops you have to be in the front half and if you're going to the other set of stops you have to be in the back half.

And no one cared that my ticket said the 3:45 train.