45 pounds of CAT

On December the 30th, we all went to the kitty doctor (the vet, but I call her the kitty doctor). This was a new doctor to Apricot and Thimble, although Colby had seen her before when his ears got so bad.

Now here's the thing. I'm one human, a girl, without the effortless upper body strength of most guys. They are three cats. Collectively, they weigh a little over 45 pounds. So how does one human get three cats to the vet? Especially when the biggest one, Thimble, has decided to try on the "scaredy cat" personality for a while. (At least I do hope it's only temporary!)

Last time we all three went to the kitty doctor, I had the two Coons in Thimble's big crate and Apricot in the kangaroo pouch. When I came back, I had Thimble and Apricot in the crate and Colby in the pouch, because that was what they had physically indicated they wanted.

So this time, I decided to put all three of them in the crate. I got a friend to make me (I paid him) a CATillac -- a furniture mover's dolly with a handle and eye bolts, I think they're called, on the sides to tie down the crate to. This would assist me in getting the crate from the car to the kitty doctor's place and back again. I figured I'd get someone to help me lift the crate into the car at the vet's, and I could lower it onto the CATillac.

However, this left the question of how to get the crate plus cats out to the car from my house. Hm. I came up with and implemented this plan.

Everybody got their harnesses put on before I left for my walk that morning. (And hey, this time it was properly cold outside!) The door to the sofa room got shut as well, to keep them from hiding there. I figured Apricot at least would know what's up. (He did.)

The putting on of the harness went well; Apricot didn't even need bothered by Colby in order to walk around this time, which is odd because his harness was just a tad too tight. Not enough that I wasn't going to use it, but enough that I think I need a new one. (Sigh. More expenses.)

When I got back from the walk, I put Thimble into the crate and carried it out to the car, whose door I had previously opened. The crate fits across the back seat with room for me to sit next to it. How convenient.

Then I put the kangaroo pouch on and put Apricot in it, and hooked the pouch's hook to his harness (this was the only reason I wore the pouch; to ensure that panic would not enable a cat to get away from me).

I took him out to the car, opened the door, sat down inside, closed the car door, unhooked Apricot and opened the crate door and fed Apricot through the opening into the crate. Although he didn't even try the splay-legged "NO" protest some cats do, I will admit the advantage to such a large crate is that he wouldn't have had a chance.

See, this way there was no possibility of losing a cat to the outside world. Not that Thimble even made a move from where he was plastered against the back of the crate. Sigh. I wish he were brave like he used to be; it would be so much easier on him.

Then I got out of the car.

Wait, then I opened the car door to get out of the car.

Nope, the handle moved but the car door wouldn't open. Oh for crying out loud! Apparently, the car accident where the guy hit my driver's side door and affected the back door did more damage than anybody thought. While I got the actuator repaired so the key fob would unlock the door from the outside, the inside handle won't open the door. And of course, when do I ever sit in the back seat? And I never have more than one person besides myself in my car these days.

So I scrambled into the front seat and got out the front door, which probably alarmed my poor cats even more.

I repeated the whole process with Colby, who was far more difficult to get in the pouch, seeing as he'd observed me leaving with both Thimble and Apricot and figured, rightly enough, that he was next. I think perhaps I'll just fasten a leash around my middle to be the connection next time.

I had to get out of the car again and go back inside for my purse and the protein bar I was going to have for breakfast, and put the CATillac in the wheel wells of the back seat (it wouldn't have fit while I was in there), but then we were off!

The crate: all strapped in.
Technically this is on the way back, as the crate's on the other side on the way there.

And on time, too. In fact, we were early to our 8:30 appointment! (That never happens to me!)

Nobody said anything on the way there. Not them or me, as I was busy stuffing my face while I drove. It was nice that December the 30th happened to be a holiday this year for a lot of people so traffic was light. I'm glad the vet's office was open.

At the office, I unfolded the CATillac and put it down by the car door where the crate was the closest. Then I pulled the crate out of the car and, using as much arm and leg muscles as I could to spare my back, put it down on the CATillac.

Oops. It was backwards. I didn't think the cats would appreciate the view from where we'd been; they'd be better off facing the end I was pulling, so they could see me and (hopefully) draw reassurance from my presence.

Okay. Concentrate, deep breathing, fingers on one end, fingers through gate of crate on the other end, lift just enough to be able to rotate and set back down.

I did it! I was very proud of myself. And there was a nagging thought, minor, pushed to the back of my mind where I didn't actually think of it till later. "Huh. That was easy."

Colby and Apricot visible as we go up the handicapped paintlines in the parking lot.

Using the pull handle and the handicapped access ramp to the sidewalk, I took my load of CAT into the office.

They sent me right into a room, even though I was early, and I opened the crate door to let anyone who wanted to come out and explore.

Thimble and Apricot aren't going anywhere.

Colby was the only taker. He was like, hey, I know this place! He went under the chairs and stood on his hind legs to look on the counter where before he'd jumped up and knocked over a jar of liquid, but he was just confirming it was the same as before. This time he left it alone. He found the corner beside the window seat against the wall and behind the crate, and decided that was a good place to stay.

Colby the intrepid explorer

The vet tech came in and talked to me about my concerns that day, and confirmed what the vet was going to do (physical exams on everybody, shots for the Coons but not Apricot).

Then Dr. Powell came in. She's very nice. Colby liked her last time.

Colby's Corner

They have a baby scale like I have to weigh the cats in. I decided since Colby was out, I was going to do Apricot first, as he was the easiest to get to in the crate. Colby might go into the crate after his exam, making it even harder to get to the other ones!

So Apricot got weighed, and it really helped that I have that scale at home (not identical, but close enough), as I'd accidentally trained them to hold still in it without being held by me. (I didn't do it on purpose, just would say "hold still" when I put them in it and then "thank you" when I put them back down.)

Dr. Powell looked in his eyes and his ears and at his teeth and his skin, and then listened to his heart rate (172, normal for a cat-at-the-vet), took his respiration rate, and then they took his temperature. That was quite enough for Apricot, who was an angel (or paralyzed in fear) the whole time. He didn't react, just wasn't happy about it.

I put him down on the floor, not the crate, and while he was busy getting his bearings, I fished Thimble out of the crate. And fished, and fished, because he's a very long cat and wasn't coming willingly.

I got a couple of amazed exclamations from both vet and tech when I kept getting more Thimble out of the crate. Finally I had his back end bundled into my arms with his front so I could lift him up.

He went through the same things Apricot had. Only his heart rate was 200. Poor fellow. He was visibly the most scared of the three, even shaking a tiny bit. And he only had to get one shot because his rabies from last year is good for three years, and of the other two shots they get, one is good for two years.

Apricot by now was back in the crate, and I let Thimble go in as well (I kind of just poured him in, as I figured that would be his ideal spot right now).

Then I moved the crate and gathered up Colby from where he'd gone. He earned a new nickname on the scale: Wiggleworm! His heart rate was identical to Apricot's. Unfortunately his heart murmur is back, dang it. I guess I will have to get him ultrasounded in another two years after all. I don't want to; they'll probably have to sedate him. He's calm but he's not the calm do-anything-with cat that Pippin was (Pippin never had to get sedated for an ultrasound, even the very first one).

The arrangement of the cats in the crate was theoretically Apricot at the back and Thimble in the middle now, but when I went to put Colby in, I saw that the two had switched places. More like Thimble had forced his way into the back. But he had his tail curled around Apricot, who was curled up against him. It looked so sweet!

Can we go home yet?

Then we did the pay thing and got the flea control stuff for me to put on later (I haven't yet), and I asked a gentleman who'd come in with a kitten in a tiny crate (comparatively!) to help me out. Well, actually I was about to ask the desk lady if someone could help me and he volunteered.

So he lifted the crate into the car for me once we got out to it, and I thanked him, folded up the CATillac and put it into the car, and off we went back home.

Oh goodness, I don't want to go through all that again, cat by cat into the house. By the time I got home, the physical sensation and the accompanying thought had gotten stronger. Lifting the crate had been easy. I wonder ... I went inside and turned off the alarm and left the house door wide open when I came back to the car.

"Guys," I said, "I want to try something." I pulled the crate out enough to get a hold of both ends and lifted. Completely. I was upright, holding 45 pounds of CAT and the weight of the crate, and although it was heavy, I was okay. I could even walk.

My friends, I carried that entire crate in with me and set it down on the floor. The only part that was difficult to the point of "ow" was the "on the floor" part. Next time I'll put it on the table; they can get down from there no problem--they do it all the time.

Can you imagine? I have never, in my entire life, been able to lift that much weight with my arms, much less walk with it. Hooray for protein and strength training!

Apricot took four hours to forgive me; after two he re-emerged from his hiding spot but wouldn't let me near him. After two more he went back to being normal with me. This was a great relief and I'm glad it only took him four hours.

Thimble held a grudge for about two hours and then gave it up and climbed into my lap where I sat watching a tvshow and wanted cuddled, so of course I did.

Colby was perfectly fine from the moment he left the crate.

And so we survive another vet visit, and I learn an astonishing thing about myself. (Whoo hoo!)

In Which Thimble is Sleeping

After an hour of sleeping on my lap, this is the marshmellow Thimble turns into. I had to keep my hand in the photo as he's got a paw wrapped around it!

There is a Jacket, and Life is Good

It's getting cold, and I wanted a tighter jacket to go underneath the bigger jackets when I walked, so the cold air couldn't sneak up the bottom of the jacket stack and make me cold underneath. As finances are a little tight, I was quite pleased to find exactly what I was looking for at a big box store for $10. (Actually, they didn't have my size. So I ordered it off their website in my size and picked it up the next weekend! So very cool. I love technology.)

Now, whenever I bring home new clothes, unless they're really nice (which I don't usually buy), I put them on the floor so the cats can investigate to their collective heart's content. It makes them happy, and it makes me happy because then when I do wear the shirt or whatever, I don't have cats all over saying, "now hold on a sec, that smells funny. I said, stay put!"

This jacket was a bigger hit than most. When I put it on the floor, it was zipped up. And Thimble, my adorable, silly long-haired cat who loves to burrow into clothes, quilts, sheets, rugs, etc, thought this was awesome! A burrow place just his size.

He went in through the bottom of the jacket.

There was a pause to evaluate, during which Colby showed up and was puzzled.

Colby is still puzzled but, like most cats, pretending it doesn't bother him at the moment.
The Thimble tail is still sticking out of the jacket.

Then Thimble turned around inside the jacket so he could see out. This attracted Colby's attention again.

It also attracted Apricot's attention. He took the opportunity to lick Thimble's head without Thimble able to return the favor. Thimble wasn't all that pleased but he put up with it.

He's quite pleased with the jacket.

One more thing to try: he turned around again and came out the other end, the proper way for a head to be in a jacket.

The next day found Colby trying it out.

Colby doesn't burrow. He liked the jacket to sit on.

In the end, I have had to leave the jacket on the floor for the time being. When I want to wear it, I pick it up and put it on, much to everyone's fascination.

Luckily, the surface of the coat isn't fuzzy so it doesn't pick up cat hair. (The non-fuzzy was deliberate: the dry air of winter makes static electricity. Dry air mixed with a fuzzy jacket made me get shocked a lot. I was tired of it.)

And so far, Apricot hasn't really sat on it (or in it) at all. This seems to be strictly a Maine Coon jacket!

In Which I Am Stalked

Please may we have some?

I started giving them hairball treats, which they all adore, right after I put my evening pills together. I'm keeping the treat bag with the pills so I remember.

It didn't take the gang long to figure out the new pattern to the evening. One night, they were all very very quiet as they gathered behind me. I turned around, expecting to have to call somebody in, and there they all were. Quite close and rather unexpected.

I believe I may have squeaked in surprise.

In Which They Wait For Me

This is what I see most days when I get home. I park outside the kitchen window and they wait inside on either the cat trees or the dining room table. They're both on the table. The bar across Colby's chest is the top of one of the chairs.

It's hard to get a picture of them waiting, in part due to the reflection (since I get home in the afternoon and the sun is shining onto the window), and in part due to the fact that when they see me, Thimble immediately jumps down and goes over to the door to wait for me there. 

It's rare he's both there waiting and not on the floor yet by the time I get out of the car.

I Didn't Even Know It Was Possible To Bruise Your Own Ribs

Two weeks ago on Monday, I observed that the mattress I'd rotated three days before had not been put back in place correctly enough. It stood too far away from the headboard and I was in danger of losing my small blankets down the crack. (This whole situation happens to me fairly frequently, given that I rotate the mattress once a week.)

So I put my hands on the side of the mattress, braced my feet, and prepared to give it a good shove to get it up closer to the headboard. About this time Apricot notices I'm about to move the mattress and jumps up on it, coming over to me to get headbumped and kissed beforehand. (A far cry from his feral origins where he'd never get close if I was moving the mattress; now he likes to be on it while I move it!)

Okay, Apricot head-bumps and kisses over, I reset everything and shoved as hard as I could. My elbows were bent at almost a 90 degree angle and I was pushing with my entire strength down my arms and against the mattress.

I have done this many times without a single problem.

This time, my right arm buckled, the elbow swinging inward. At the same time, like a game of tug of war, I drove my entire body weight onto the point of that elbow. Which, due to an apparently genetic quirk making my elbow level with my ribs, means my elbow stabbed into my ribs.

This hurt.

Since my lungs are behind my ribs, this also drove the air out of just one lung, not the other. I've had the breath knocked out of me before but never just on one side. This feels very strange and even more "wrong" than both sides, oddly enough.

So, being in a great deal of pain and not being able to breath on one side, I naturally collapsed against the bed. I felt rather positive that if I continued the downward trend I wouldn't be able to get off the floor for a while so I just sort of pinned myself against the mattresses, holding on with my arms too,  while I struggled to get things sorted.

Remember Apricot? He's still there.

My head is now level with his. He came closer to me and gave me an exploratory, concerned sniff. "Are you okay? You're acting all kinds of weird."

I reassured him I was okay, just in pain again. He left, looking back over his shoulder as if to say, "well, you don't look okay but I'll take your word for it."

The reputable medical websites all say bruised ribs take 3-4 weeks to heal. I think they're right.

Also, did you know you can sprain a rib? I thought sprains only happened to joints. You can also crack or break a rib, but I have a feeling I would have been in a lot more pain and not been able to "do stuff" while it heals.

I didn't go to a doctor. I really can't afford it, plus, the only thing they can do is xray you, tell you if you bruised, sprained, or cracked the rib(s), and give you sympathy. You're not supposed to bind even broken ribs now, as it causes shallow breathing which can give you pneumonia. You're supposed to take anti-inflammatory drugs to make the pain less so you also breathe less shallowly, but after two days of taking an OTC anti-inflammatory during work, I realized that, yeah, I was getting reaction headaches.

So no pain medication for me. I actually did try to see the doctor at the end of the first week to try to get some prescription anti-inflammatory drugs that might not have the same reaction headache issue, (we're talking migraines here, not something I'd rather have than my ribs hurting) but they didn't have anything appointments open.

It's only been in the last few days that I can lift Colby without having to hastily put him back down again because it hurts too bad; I still can't lift Thimble. Part of it is that Colby weighs less (by about a pound) but part of it is also that Colby relaxes into my shoulder and conforms to my body, making his weight more evenly distributed, while Thimble would stand on my hands and shoulder if I'd let him.

They haven't really understood why I'm not doing as much picking up cats as usual, nor why I'm doing less getting down on the floor with them. (Try it. Notice how much core muscle work is required to get back up? Yeah, those muscles. The ones right across the ribs I bruised. Ow.)

When I told my parents about this whole incident, I expressed the exasperation I had with it. I mean, I knew you could bruise/crack your ribs by coughing, but I didn't know you could bruise/crack your own ribs with your own elbow! It sounds ridiculous!

Daddy told me he'd done it. Twice. Both times when he was driving his truck and having to do something to it. But (lucky me for being a wimpy girl) with his extra guy upper-body-strength, he didn't just bruise his ribs. He cracked them. And then still had to drive home. OW.

It also occurred to me about a week after doing it that I was very lucky my right arm had buckled. Remember the trouble I had making my lung start breathing again? I don't think a sharp, sudden blow directly over my heart (left side) would have been good for me!

And a coworker (who had also bruised his ribs when he was 18 and playing football for high school) showed me a better arm placement so the next time this happens, if my arm does buckle, the elbow will go wide and miss my body and all I'll do is end up with my chest against the mattress. Sounds much better.

Now if only I can remember to do that ....

The Thimble Version of An Alarm Clock

On the Saturday my sister went back home after visiting, I discovered my alarm clock had ceased to work. I take a vacation and my alarm clock dies. Figures.

It's a sunrise alarm clock. It's a monstrously large thing; fills the headboard front to back (Thimble does the same thing) and is about 12 to 16 inches long. It wakes me up with gradually increasing light instead of a harsh sudden noise.

I like sunrise alarm clocks. I didn't realize until I didn't wake up to it, but instead woke up to the backup alarm on my phone (which is a harsh sudden beeping noise), that the light waking me up kept me from waking straight out of a bad dream.

And boy I was cranky. Thimble was not altogether pleased with how cranky I was that morning. It took till late that afternoon before I realized what must have happened. I tried to increase the light manually and nothing.

So, whatever, needs a new light bulb. It's only the second one in more than a decade after all. I put a new light bulb in (it just used normal candelabra bulbs, but had a reflector plus the shape of the "lampshade" to increase the light to the maximum of the full-bright "end" of the alarm). Yeah, new bulb not working.

Um. Phooey. Already proved that waking up without it was a bad idea. I reluctantly went on Amazon and looked up sunrise alarm clocks. Reluctantly because this one had cost about $150 back in the day and I was sure that a new one wasn't going to be much cheaper. It wasn't. It was $130. Ouch. But, the reason why it was less expensive is because it had competition. Back when I bought it, it was the only manufacturer making such a clock and they were kind of rare. Like noise-canceling headphones were originally.

I looked up the competitors, and one that looked like it would work was only about $40. If I hadn't had the other one, I don't know that I would have gotten this one. The old one had a 15 or 30 minute wake up "light getting brighter" time. This one has a 30 minute only time. But I already knew 30 minutes worked best for me. Some other stuff like that, too, but since I had the experience with the old one and its more modifiable features, I knew what worked best, and this new one had it.

Thimble, the new alarm clock, and the old one behind it.

It also had a much smaller footprint, which was attractive to me, as the old one took up so much space on the headboard that Thimble (who prefers the headboard at night) was actually very restricted in where he could be. He had plenty of space as long as he was in the exact same space every time!

It was also less heavy than the old one. I didn't even think about this.

Thimble had observed that if I woke up late on a Saturday, I was very cranky and no fun to be around. Thimble had observed that the alarm clock was what woke me up.

The next Saturday (the 15th) I only had the clock a few days (shipping and everything does take time, you know) and I was still messing it up. The light activated as it was supposed to but I was exhausted and didn't want to get up and at the end, it's supposed to make a noise to let me know "okay, the light's as bright as it's going to get, time to get up now." It didn't.

So I was making all the motions (or lack thereof) that would indicate to Thimble that I was going back to sleep.

Let me stress I was not in a location where my head was directly under the alarm clock.

This meant that Thimble (bless him) had to have pulled the clock along the surface of the headboard until it was over my head, and then pushed it off so it hit me on the head.

Well, it worked. I woke up. Unfortunately I still couldn't get out of bed because I don't want to reinforce that behavior!

I woke up, moved the alarm clock off my face a little puzzled, and looked up into Thimble's concerned square face looking down at me. "Did it work? Are you up?"

And Now They Are Two

Happy Birthday to Colby and Thimble!

They are two years old today.

They've spent the day cuddled with me, mostly. I just got up from lying on the bed with Colby stretched out from my ribs to my knees. This was lovely and most comfortable (the best weighted blanket in the world) except for when he curled his head around and then tried to wedge it under my ribcage.

A pose, for once. Thimble's on the left, Colby's on the right.

Thimble's been velcro all day, too; but at a slightly bigger distance most of the time. He, too, has spent time curled up in my lap.

An excellent way to spend a birthday.

And I can't believe they've been here with me for this long already.

Apricot Shows How It's Done

And I don't have a picture.

Sorry.

My sister came to visit. It's taken Apricot a while to be okay with her, but this time he came out even before the next day after her arrival, which was really cool. And now once he comes out, he stays out, and interacts with me like normal and usually gives her a fairly wide berth (just in case, mind you).

Except when she's doing her stretching exercises. My sister does way more stretching exercises than I do. She practically ties herself in knots. And unties herself and redoes another knot. I told her that the phrase is "does anybody want to be a stretchy kitty?" because that is what I ask when I do my (far simpler) stretching routine before I go to bed.

Colby is my normal stretchy kitty but they usually all show up. Her saying it let them know what she was planning to do and let them know not to be alarmed when the human started doing weird things.

Sophia, my sister, must use the living room for her stretches because, well, she stretches out all over the place. I do mine in the bedroom. So there was that difference, to start with.

And Apricot likes to hang out in the living room.

He came down from whatever perch he was on and wandered around her, getting closer and closer, watching her. He seemed very baffled.

After a while of her convoluted stretching antics, he made sure she was watching him and then did the classic cat stretch, front paws out, shoulders down, shoulders rolling back up as the back part stretches out, and then the back feet drawn under the body again.

He looked back over his shoulder at her. "Did you get that?" his body language asked her quite plainly.

Sophia started giggling. "Apricot's trying to show me the proper way to stretch!" she said.

The next day she did her routine again. Apricot saw her, gave his little kitty sigh (it looks like a shoulder shrug) and went over and demonstrated again  how to do it properly. Sophia was commiserated with him about how dense she was in not getting it right and explained that he was just going to have to keep showing her until she got it.

So every time she stretched, Apricot would go over and stretch, once, too, demonstrating.

Just How Long Is He, Anyway?

I don't remember when this happened, and I don't have photographic proof to give me a date because, well, my hands were both occupied and not with the phone, either.

At some point during the past two months, we were playing wand toy as we do every night. I had apparently not washed my hands quite sufficiently after supper, because Thimble was fascinated with them. He wanted to smell them.

And I wasn't cooperating (because I hadn't noticed. Thimble-after-the-wand-toy, when I'm holding it, looks the same as Thimble-after-my-hand).

I had the wand toy end in one hand, and the other hand was resting at my waist, just in midair, with my elbow bent at ninety degrees. I often hold my hands like that. I don't know why.

But this meant that the hand that wasn't moving around was at my waist. Not my hip. I'm five foot six inches, and I have long legs, which means my waist is pretty far from the ground.

So I was extremely startled when Thimble rears up on his hind legs, extends himself up into the air, keeps coming up, and puts one front paw on my waist to steady himself, while the other paw hooks around my empty hand's wrist and pulls it over to himself. He then sniffed my fingers for a while, took a lick or two, and dropped back down to the floor.

Luckily I'd managed to hold still in my startlement, so I hadn't knocked him down or anything.

I'm still amazed. I live with him so I should know how big he is, but I hadn't realized he was that long. It blew my mind.

The Hazards of Teaching Your Cats English: the Sleep Version

I like having my cats understand me when I talk, so, having 28 years of proof that cats can learn English, I set out to deliberately teach all my boys English (instead of seeing how much they'd pick up on their own).

How do you teach a cat a human language, you ask? I'm glad you did. You see, what you do is you use the same phrase every time for the same thing. "Time for supper," for example. And you use lots of phrases. "Want to help me clean up?" after I come in all sweaty from walking in the morning. "Anybody want to help me take a bath?" which used to get Thimble into the bathroom, all excited, when he was a kitten, but now it gets me a bored look from everybody. Thimble decided playing in the damp tub after I'd finished my shower was not worth the time it took to get his fur dry afterwards. I teach time by saying "I'll be back in an hour" every morning when I head out on my walk, which takes an hour. As they get older I've added more complex combinations.

Still, it always takes me by surprise how much they know, and what they then do with it.

Consider the following two phrases, said at different times on different days. "I'm sorry, I'm just so tired." (After not being able to pet them sufficiently or play with them enough.) And, "Okay, guys, I need you to help me get to bed early so I can sleep more. Maybe that will help me be less tired."

Amazingly, this last phrase actually works: they do their best to keep me moving through the after-work chores until I'm in bed and not let me stop and play on the phone or worse, nap on the floor.

However, I was not expecting them to put those two phrases together, figure out that making me stay in bed would make me less tired, and then try (twice!) to make me not get up in the morning.

The first time, I woke up with Colby stretched along one side and Thimble along the other side. Unfortunately for their plans, I can still lift and move a sixteen pound cat (Colby) so I can get out of bed. It is unusual for Colby to be on the bed with me, but not unheard of; it is highly unusual for Thimble to be on the bed instead of the headboard.

Far left: Colby's ear and front leg sticking out; Middle: Colby's back leg and Thimble's face in Colby's black tail, Far Right: middle of Thimble. (I sleep on my side, thus the curve in the lineup.)

The next time, about a week later, I woke up with both cats on one side, the side of the bed I have always gotten out of. Colby was stretched from my shoulder to my waist, and Thimble had his head resting on Colby's hip and was stretched from my waist to my knees. They were on top of the covers, leaning against me, and I was underneath the covers. This arrangement of cat-to-human actually worked, in that I could not get out of that side of the bed. I was rather impressed by their ingenuity, actually.

But I couldn't call my boss and explain that I couldn't come to work because my cats had me pinned in bed. I don't believe she'd understand that to be a legitimate excuse!

So, reluctantly, I slipped out the other side of the bed. I looked back, and both of them were giving me indignant glares.

They haven't tried it since. I guess they gave up. For now.

Colby on the Bookshelf

One day I came back from my walk and couldn't find Colby anywhere. When I finally saw him, I was baffled. He was on top of the seven-foot-tall bookshelf. With an eight-foot-tall ceiling. He's taller than a foot when he stands up. (Stands like a normal cat on all four feet).

I could not, for the life of me, figure out how he got up there.

He's quite proud of himself.

 Thimble couldn't figure out how he got up there either, and it was driving him crazy. Colby, the baby, is not supposed to be doing things that Thimble can't!

Puzzled Thimble

The entire bookshelf, for scale. 

 I had to go to work, unfortunately, and Colby was too happy and pleased with himself to want to come down. I had to trust that whatever way he'd used to get up there, he could get down. So I said to him, "I hope you can get down from there."

When I got home from work, Colby, who is usually in one of the cat trees to either side of the big picture window in the kitchen that I park in front of, was instead on the table, in the exact center of the window, as if to ensure that I saw him first thing when I got home. Which I thought was sweet of him, if rather funny.

I began to suspect how he was getting up there after thinking about it for a few days (days in which he repeated the feat several times without letting anybody who cared see him do it. Apricot didn't care but I know Colby avoided both me and Thimble while he got up there so that Thimble would remain puzzled and on the floor).

The other side of the bookshelf.

On the other side of the bookshelf, there is a window-ledge height double-wide bookshelf, upon which rests an end table. You see it there. It's not a sturdy end table. In order to use it to get up to the bookshelf, Colby would have had to figure out that he had to jump on it and then wait for it to stop wobbling before he went the rest of the way. 

Given the clearance on top of the bookshelf, physics dictates that he can't just do a running launch and kick off the table surface on the way up; he'd smash himself into the ceiling. He'd also knock over the end table, and it was never knocked over.

So I suspected he was doing this but I wasn't sure, given the thoughtful behavior necessary to make it work.

One night, I came home to find the wand toy that is usually stored with the stuffed animals in the top shelf on the floor, and Colby on the top of the bookshelf looking pleased with himself. He'd knocked it down. Okay, fine, we'll play with it. Also, so that's why he went to all the trouble of getting up there in the first place. He saw it from the floor (I had apparently not tucked it in enough) and wanted it.

While playing with it later that night, I lured him over to the side of the bookshelf where I thought he was getting up there. I did take video, but it's about ten minutes of Colby dithering about it. He knew Thimble was watching and didn't want to give away his secret.

However, the toy taunting him from the top of the bookshelf was just too much after a while. Sure enough, he jumped to the end table, waited for it to stop wiggling, and then leaped very carefully into the foot-tall space available to him, kind of landing almost on his elbows and knees and sliding into place.

Thimble watched, fascinated, as Colby got to play with the wand toy all by himself up there.

But it wasn't until the next morning that I saw them both up there.

The end of Colby playing King of the Hill

 I guess it took Thimble a while to figure out how to get his taller body into the space Colby had managed. Thimble was up there, and proud of himself, but he didn't really like it up there. He's literally too big to be comfortable. If he lies down, too much of him sprawls over the edge, and he can't stand or sit without being hunched over.

As you see in the picture, neither can Colby, but the difference is that Colby is (a) a little smaller than Thimble but not by much, but more importantly (b) he's used to crouching; he does it all the time.

So while Colby's been up there rather randomly ever since (the wand toy got moved to another section of the bookshelf, one he can't get to (I think)), Thimble hasn't been back up. He just wanted to prove he could.

The New Fridge: A Dreadful Enemy

My refrigerator died. One day I came home to find it making horrendously annoying clicking and whirring noises, and no cold air coming from its vents inside. It had obviously been doing this for some time because nobody was alarmed at it (except me) and they were all in the kitchen, wanting to know what I was going to do about it.

I called my brother (who, I believe, is capable of fixing or at least diagnosing anything). At his suggestion I also googled the model of fridge to see what other people had had happen to it. It's a 9 year old fridge, and the chances were really good it was the compressor or the motherboard. One person had paid about $700 to get his fixed (motherboard replacement) and it took a week. I don't know what he did with his food, but I needed my fridge (and freezer) back, immediately. I had no other place to keep cold food in the house.

And since I'd started eating more meat and more produce, there was more in the fridge than, say, a year ago. 

So I researched online, found a fridge I liked, found it was on backorder for four weeks from everywhere, chose my second favorite, and ordered it for delivery on Friday (it was Tuesday). It was too late to do much of anything with the fridge as it was, so I went out and bought dry ice and put it on the top shelf of the fridge (it was a bottom freezer fridge/freezer combo).

This kept it cold for the opening and shutting of the door that had to happen for supper to occur (and don't think I wasn't tempted to simply skip supper between the difficulty involved in getting it and the stress of all the phone calls and research). It also kept it cold all the next day while I was at work.

After work I stopped in at my parents' house, borrowed their coolers and my dad and his Kia (holds more than my little car), went to my house, emptied my freezer and part of my fridge into the coolers, went back to their house and unloaded the contents of my freezer into one of their full-size freezers. Mom, meanwhile, had been consolidating and making room for my stuff.

Okay, we're set for Wednesday. But the dry ice was three-quarters gone, and I couldn't afford to keep buying it. So I asked around for fridges to borrow (the little sort, that you get for dorm rooms) but nobody had one. Eventually my brother offered to let me borrow his (didn't know he had one either) and it turned out he didn't, not actually. He didn't have one sitting around. He had one he used at work. So it was very nice of him to let me borrow it, considering it was in use!

Friday was the delivery date. The website had the time and was updating it like every ten minutes. It would come at 12:30. At 11:30 it said it would arrive at 12:29. Okay, so I need to leave work in case it backed up even closer to current time. I got home, checked again, and it said it wasn't going to deliver until Monday.

Wait, what???? I called in righteous indignation. Ma'am, I was told, we don't stock those in our warehouse to prevent damage and it has to come direct from the manufacturer and they don't have any in stock. 

Um ... you didn't even check until five minutes ago? How can you manage your inventory like that? And no, I can't wait till Monday. I already took today off (a half day) and I can't take mondays off. Not without a lot of pre-planning. 

They could offer me a specific 2 hour window for free (normally it's all day long and you don't know until the night before which 2 hour window you got). 

Um ... no, you're not understanding me. I have to have the new fridge this weekend. Well, they're terribly sorry, but they can't get it to me. I wouldn't have ordered it if I'd known that. 

They should have known they didn't have one in stock (I didn't actually say that because I was too irritated at this point and the woman talking to me didn't deserve quite that angry of a tone of voice. Wasn't her fault). Needless to say, I will not be buying any appliance from Sears again.

So I cancelled the order and started calling around town, trying to find someone who could deliver me a fridge next-day. One potential store went to voicemail. Nope, need it now. The sooner I can get one ordered, the more chance I have of getting my next-day delivery. So they didn't get my money simply because they were too busy to answer the phone. (The receptionist answered, just not the salesperson.)

HHGregg answered their phone. Said they'd be able to do that, special, but if I could come into the store (I was on their website, looking at choices) it would be better so they could push that through. So I did.

Have I ever mentioned how much I hate talking on the phone to strangers? Have I ever mentioned how much I hate going back out after I've come home? But here I was, doing things I hate because I needed food.

I ended up buying a different type of fridge than I wanted. This one has french doors on the top and a freezer drawer on the bottom and a fridge drawer in the middle. It has two compressors, one for the fridge and one for the freezer so you don't use as much energy cooling the fridge down (or the freezer) when you open it. I wanted the drawer concept, though, as I was tired of the pool of cold air falling out onto my toes when I opened the door on the freezer of the other fridge.

In actuality, I think I like the french doors better. I think I like this whole fridge better, even though it has a little less fridge space due to the icemaker in the corner of the fridge and the dent in the door (from the water dispenser).

'

Much suspicion on the part of the cats.

 The cats were not as impressed. They hated the drawers. It took them a whole week to stop leaving the room when I opened one. Thimble was initially okay with it since he could reach underneath and since the process of getting it produced several kitty toys that he had stuffed under the other fridge.

Oh, and the process of getting it was really nice. They showed up at 7 am the next morning, which was actually the perfect time for me on a Saturday. The one who spoke English was explaining that he was trying to avoid having to take my door off the hinges.

And my brain, for once, went into overdrive, thinking fast enough. That door didn't have doorstops on the hinges and had put a dent into my other fridge simply because you could open it too far. I'd purchased door stops for it. And then discovered the middle hinge was missing. I couldn't get the top hinge or the bottom hinge out on my own due to the torque resulting from the door trying to hang on one hinge. Perfect opportunity!

Would it be easier if you took the door off? I asked, all innocence. Well, yes, he admitted. Will you put these on the hinges when you put it back? I asked, holding up the pouch of door stops I'd had sitting on my kitchen table for years. Sure, no problem, he said.

Problem solved. For both of us.

Oh, and the cats, of course, were at the opposite end of the house for the move!

He can get a paw underneath!

Seriously not happy about the drawer concept

So, now I have a new fridge. I like it, the cats have gotten used to it and like it (it helped when I started keeping their pumpkin in the fridge drawer so that "good things" came out of it). 

Whew.

Apricot and the Nap

I've been really tired lately (thus the dearth of posts) but I took some time off and I'm writing some of what happened while I was "gone." And when I know when it occurred, I'm dating it that date, but just know I'm writing this in October.

Back in September, I was home after work, next to the bed, setting up my work clothes for the next morning. Apricot jumped up on the bed. Okay, technically he climbed the stairs onto the bed. I don't know if his legs actually are short or if it just seems that way due to the presence of Thimble and Colby distorting my idea of "normal" for cat leg length, but I do know he prefers not to jump "up" anywhere he can climb. Luckily, most of my house is set up for climbing.

Anyway. Apricot's on the bed, which is right next to me, and he stays on the other side of it but within reach if I lean over. And I do mean lean over, like bend at the waist and practically lie on the bed. He likes this; it makes me look smaller to him and thus, less scary. While he's not really scared of me anymore, he does prefer things to be "less scary" even though.

So I did; I reached over and petted him briefly and then stood back up and continued what I was doing.

I had the feeling of critical eyes upon me and I looked over and found Apricot giving me the evil eye. I had not petted him long enough. Briefly was not the normal procedure for him being there, and I had failed in my duties.

Oops. I was just so tired, I knew I had to keep going or I'd ... stop. I leaned over again for a second scritch and pet, and explained that I was sorry, but I was just so tired. And then I laughed deprecatingly (or that's what it was meant to be) and said, "I know, I'm tired a lot lately."

Apricot leaned into my hands and began purring. Loudly.

Phooey on this. The clothes can be stacked for work some other time. I wanted to spend time with Apricot.

So I climbed up carefully onto the bed (so as not to alarm him) and laid down next to him. He laid down too, still purring. He doesn't like his paws trapped so I put my hand under his paw instead of on top,

He used his other paw to gather my hand even closer to him so it rested against the top of his head. This way I could feel him purring as well as hear it. The peaceful rumble came up my arm bones and through my ears as Apricot, happy and content, closed his eyes.

I didn't have a chance, as tired as I was. I closed my eyes too, only for a minute.

An hour and a half later I woke up, no Apricot to be found, no cats at all. I felt quite indignant about it. Am I so bad at taking care of myself that I require being tricked into a nap and then abandoned so I don't wake up from anybody's movement on the bed?

Don't answer that.

Everybody (all three) were actually waiting either on the floor in the bedroom or right outside it, which is why I think they'd stayed off the bed (normally Thimble would have been up there with me) in order to make sure I stayed asleep.

Humph.

Thimble is Finally a Cat

Two and a half weeks ago I stopped putting Thimble in his crate at night. I waited this long to see if this time, it would work. The last time I tried this he was an angel the first night, and by the fourth night, the other two were begging me to crate him!

This time, he's grown up enough to restrain his wilder impulses, and so far, everything is going well. (Yes, I know I just shot myself in the foot saying that.)

In fact, things are going more than well. Somehow, this time, having Thimble around all the time made his relationship with Apricot better. I think perhaps Apricot had to put his foot down instead of just avoiding the issue.

But now they will even sleep together sometimes, although it's Thimble's idea when there's contact during sleepy times. Apricot doesn't leave, however, and he certainly could if he wanted to.

They stayed like this for quite some time.

All three of them seem much happier now, and I'm certainly happier--I didn't particularly like crating my cat as if he were a dog, but it was the only choice back when Thimble's night-time behavior was intolerable.

And the new, improved relationship between Thimble and Apricot has translated into a better relationship with Apricot and Colby ... and that I really don't understand the cause and effect of. I walked in and found those two both drinking out of the fountain at the same time. That had never happened before. Colby and Apricot had been good friends before, and it's really nice to see them be even better friends now.

Apricot on left, Colby on right of fountain, and
Thimble the photo-bomber in the foreground.

As I write this, Colby is under the desk at my feet (I am having to remember not to stretch out my legs!), Apricot is on the daybed by my side fast asleep, and Thimble is on the cat tree, not in the top spot, stubbornly asleep even though he's almost falling out of the tree.

Apricot fell asleep holding the blanket

Is it any wonder I think Colby's small?
He certainly doesn't look 16 lbs here.

Thimble refuses to admit gravity exists.

They all came in here when I brought the laptop in, since they know that means I'll be here for a while. Thimble and Apricot took turns walking across the desk between the laptop and the window, as if to point out that they could, before taking their spots. Apricot settled in first, and Thimble walked over to him. This used to result in either a mighty battle taking place with Apricot a reluctant participant, or Apricot simply leaving and finding another spot. This time, Thimble simply ducked his head down until he was nose-to-nose with Apricot (but not touching), and then passed on.

His tail waved across Apricot's face, and I pointed out that wasn't very nice (yes, in those words, with a mild tone of voice) and so he sat down at the end of the daybed where the cat tree is, contemplating his next move while sitting down instead of standing. This controlled the waving tail--his goal--but instead of getting it out of Apricot's way it simply settled across Apricot's tiny orange and white paws. I gave him an inquiring look and he gave me a cat shrug in return, as if to say, "he's fine, he'll move soon," which he did.

This very pleasant calm, happy interaction among my cats makes my heart full. I love it.

And don't worry, they still have mighty battles. But at least Thimble asks first and will take no for an answer (most of the time)!

Retrospective: Pippin Gives Me a Present (and not the wiggly kind)

I wrote this for the website What's Your Grief, but I thought I'd put it here, too. Since I don't remember sharing this particular part of Pippin's life with you.

Cats don't usually give you things. Aside from rodents and birds, of course. But Pippin was unusual in a lot of ways, from being mostly blind (and never letting on how bad his sight really was), to understanding way more than you'd ever imagine, to being autistic, like me.

He was always a very precise eater. He didn't leave pieces of food strewn around his bowl like some. At the time he was eating food that came in several different shapes. And one day, randomly, I came to fill his food bowl and found one piece of food set aside on the floor next to it, very carefully, as if in gift to me. It was the heart-shape.

Did he know? How _could _ he know what that shape meant to humans? Yet, I felt it was a gift, from him to me. It was the _only_ time he ever let a food piece stay outside his bowl.

I mourn his loss still. Because he needed me to be strong, I could be strong for him. Because he needed me to be steadfast, I could be the foundation of his world. I wonder how much of my ability to cope was wrapped up in being the person he needed me to be.

I kept the heart. I kept it with some of his fur I took off the cat trees in a box with an angel holding a kitty on it, and a locket with his picture even though I can't wear necklaces. I have that box sitting on the head of my bed, where he liked to sleep. And oddly, the new crew (CAT) have always left it alone.

We've Been Cooking

So as you know I've gotten a sudden intense interest in food; cooking it, the nutritional aspects of it, playing around with recipes, and so on and so forth.

The cats appreciate this because I'm in their favorite room a lot now (the kitchen, and no, they don't get fed there so I have no idea why they like it so much) and because I'm doing all sorts of fascinating things there, too.

Well, I keep messing with recipes I find, sometimes even combining some to make one, and as I bring this food to my friends and my parents, I have had the occasional "so how do you make this" question.

Hey, blog idea! Today I finally got around to making up the new blog with a single recipe to go with it (took longer than even I expected) so if you want, head over there and check it out.

Watching me cook

Something Strange Went Down That Day

Monday or Tuesday of last week, when I came home, things were very strange in my house indeed.

First, nobody was in the kitchen to greet me. Even after I came in and shut the door and went to turn off the alarm. Usually at least one of the Coons is in the kitchen (most often Colby) and the one on lookout tells everybody else "her car's here" and the other Coon comes running to pretend he was in the kitchen waiting for me agonizingly the whole day too.

Apricot knows there's no dealing with me until I turn the alarm off, so he doesn't come running, but he's already making his way across the living room toward the kitchen by the time I get to the alarm panel (I can see into the living room from there.)

But this day, nobody was there. I called in a hesitant, scared voice (because my anxiety had pounced on me with naked claws and ripped into me declaring they weren't there because one of them had had a dreadful accident and the other two were with him), "Colby?" No Colby. "Apricot?" No Apricot.

A pause while I struggled to get the errant, nasty thoughts under control. "Thimble?" There was a note of disbelief about that one. I'd waited until last to call him. He's my velcro cat. He's always with me (unless I'm asleep or not in the house). On the few occasions he's missed my exit to another room, he's always dreadfully worried about it and runs to find out where I am, so I hate pointing out to him that he "lost" me again. I always tell him when I'm leaving but there are rare times when he's so busy doing something else (sleeping or having mighty battles, usually) that he doesn't register what I said.

Anyway, luckily for my heart rate, about the time I got the last syllable of his name out, they all three came thundering into the kitchen, just thrilled as could be that I was home. But even this was weird because Thimble came in last, and he was hesitant about something. Not me. Apricot. Thimble gave him a look, a kind of "may I come in too?" look.

I began to have suspicions that maybe Thimble had gotten a little too full of himself while I was gone (on vacation, a week ago) and Apricot had had to lay down the law (today).

Because of my weird "always cold" thing, in the summer my house is 77 degrees during the day. Despite the temperature, when Thimble came in to be with me a short while later as I was riding the exercise bike, he crawled under the blanket on the sofa (I use the blanket in winter) and stayed there, only his tail and nose protruding.

Normally he sprawls out on the sofa or the back of the sofa, on his back, paws splayed out, getting as cool as possible. He likes to burrow but normally only sticks his head under the blanket for just a short time before deciding it's too hot.

Not only did he stay there, but Apricot strolls in, all seemingly unaware. Apricot clambers up onto the sofa (no graceful jumping for him, mind you) and walks onto the blanket on top of Thimble. And then he proceeds to knead the blanket, with Thimble underneath it, and then collapses onto him, with every apparent intention of staying there.

Thimble's tail is next to Apricot's tail, closer to the back of the sofa;
Thimble's head is sticking out of the front of the blanket, next to the foot rest. See him?

Again, not normal. This usually would have caused an explosion from the blanket as Thimble extricates himself and turns on the cat who climbed on him (it has happened before, in the winter, with Colby) and uses it as an excuse to have a mighty battle.

Nope. Thimble just stays there, and after only a short while (long enough to make a point, perhaps?) Apricot climbs down off of Thimble and wanders off in search of his own thing, while Thimble waits until he's gone and then pulls himself out from under the blanket and does his normal "mom it's too hot in here" sprawl.

There were a few other minor things I noticed, not that I remember them all these days later, but all together I came to the conclusion that whatever actually happened, the result was that Thimble was treating Apricot with more respect, which means Apricot had to have done something.

Good for him!

Vacation Time Part II, or Spending Time with Relatives (Thursday) - Updated

continued from Part I

We had two whole days before the reunion, so my mom had scheduled some time with various relatives which I was welcome to come along to if I wanted.

Well ... I didn't really want to sit around and talk (or listen to other people talk) for three days straight, since that's what I was planning to do with my relatives at the reunion. I wanted something more active.

I made an appeal on facebook on our page, and one of my cousins P- responded that she'd like to spend some time with me; what did I want to do. I mentioned a number of things, and the horseback riding was one of the last ones, as I knew of only two relatives with horses (horses that you rode for fun, not horses that you used for farming, anyway).

P- asked those two if either could accommodate me, and my cousin F- volunteered. So this was all planned for Friday.

Thursday, then, I planned to go with my parents to their various meetings (my mom with an old school friend, my dad with one of his brothers) and drop them off and then drive to a gift shop I knew of and go shopping (one of my other suggestions to cousin P-).

My dad didn't want me driving his car all by myself. This shows a fundamental lack of understanding of my abilities in a car--the more distractions I have, the more difficulty I have driving safely. So basically, I'm at my best in a car by myself without any music going, which is how I planned to drive to the gift shop. However, it's his car, so I resigned myself to just staying at my cousin A-'s house for the day on Thursday. After spending the morning in bed, it wasn't entirely an unwelcome thought, either.

But no, my Aunt K-, wife of the brother my dad was spending talk-time with, said she'd go shopping with me. (Turns out she isn't really much of a shopper, so this was a really nice thing of her to do). And my dad was okay with it as long as I had someone else in the car. (Again, how long has he known me? Strange.)**See note at the bottom

So after dropping off Mom at her school friend's house, and Daddy at Uncle L-, Aunt K- and I drove the requisite 30 minutes to anywhere to get to the gift shop. (Here, where I live, it's 15 minutes to anywhere, or less. To the grocery store. To my job. To where my brother lives. To where my friends live. Somehow it's always 15 minutes. Occasionally traffic will make it 20, but you can pretty much count on 15 minutes. Where most all of my extended family lives, it's 30 minutes. To anywhere you want to go. Or 45, depending on traffic, the route you take, and, apparently, how badly you want to go there!)

This gift shop is amazing. I've been there before. There's a monster buffet restaurant on top, with a dessert bar to die for (and you'll be adding quite a few pounds if you indulge!). But I didn't want to go there; buffets aren't worth the money anymore now that I can't eat a lot at one sitting. It's huge though, like three times the size of most buffet places. And underneath, stretching the entire distance, as big as a walmart, is a gift shop.

They have everything. Toys and (genuine) Amish-made furniture and clothes (mostly shirts and pullover hoodies) and trinkets and jewelry and wind chimes (including the huge bass wind chimes I love that cost like 400 dollars and I'll never get because of that). Greeting cards and magnets and all the normal things you'd find in a gift shop. Just tons of stuff.

I wanted clothes. All my tourist-y clothes from where my relatives live are too big for me now, plus all my clothes are too big except for a few I've bought since the sudden slim-down. So I wanted tourist-y clothing. I found quite a few I liked. I got more greeting cards (last time I was at this gift shop I'd gotten some packs of variety greeting cards for birthdays and stuff and had gotten quite a lot of compliments and "where did you get these" on them, and I was almost out, so I stocked up again).

And Aunt K- patiently trailed along after me. She even pointed out some shirts I overlooked (easy to do in there) that she thought I'd like based on my other choices (she was right). And she said at one point, "aren't you cold a lot? What about these?" and pointed out fuzzy slippers. I got a pair. I wish I'd got two. These things are almost as warm as LL Bean's Wicked Good slippers for a lot less money, and they've got tread on the bottom. (The little plastic dots to give you grip).

The tread makes a funny noise on my non-carpeted floors and the cats were not pleased with them at first. They're used to it now.

Then we drove back to Aunt K-'s place. We didn't have to collect mom because Aunt K- pointed out acerbically that there were two cars at her place, one hers and one Uncle L-'s, and if the two guys couldn't manage to pick mom up with one of those, then they had a bigger problem. So mom was there when we showed up.

Well, they wanted to order pizza from a pizza place right around the corner. Within walking distance, as it turned out. But put four of my relatives in the same room and they'd discuss all night what pizza to get. I was hungry and got impatient, especially when it became apparent that they thought they'd have to order a specific pizza from the take-out menu.

I pointed out that the pizzas are made fresh, and you can mix and match the crust, the sauce, and the toppings however you like. This made their choices even larger (but more acceptable to them) and everybody got really into the discussions.

I asked for a pen and paper, and then made them tell me how many pizzas (2), and what they wanted on them and wrote it down. For myself, there was a 6.99 personal stromboli with mozzarella and steak with sauce on the side that sounded just right (a stromboli is a calzone that's shaped like a crescent moon, in case you don't know). Because I knew that most likely whatever they chose, I wouldn't (a) like it, or (b) be able to eat it.

So we had our order. And then everybody's just kind of looking at me since I'd taken charge, and I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach knowing they'd want me to call in the order. Which I said, mostly out loud. "You're going to want me to make this phone call, aren't you?" in a tone of voice which said the part that I didn't say (at least I think I kept it behind my teeth) of I hate making phone calls.

Daddy rescued me by pointed out that the restaurant was within walking distance, now wasn't it, and it wouldn't take that long to make the pizzas, so "I'll go with you" and off the two of us went.

The restaurant really was just around the corner, plus a short distance of like one or two small shops. They said it would be 25 minutes, so Daddy and I went for another walk just up and down the alley ways behind the houses. The shops and restaurant were at a crossroads that otherwise was surrounded by homes. Kind of cool.

The entire day had been rainy, off and on, and cool, so since this was an off period for the rain but it was still cool without a hot sun, it was a lovely walk. I enjoy spending time with my dad.

(Also, he totally got that I did not want to make that phone call, but he doesn't get the driving thing? He confuses me sometimes.)

I carried the pizzas and the stromboli back. Now, those pizzas were about 15 dollars each (large size). The stromboli was called a personal, and it was 7 dollars. I was not expecting a large size pizza folded over to be the size of this stromboli, but it was. Therefore I now had food for the next night too!

Supper was fun, and Aunt K- produced fresh fruit for dessert (with blueberries, yum).

But by the time we got back to Cousin G- and A-'s house, it was late, and so I got to bed at my usual "too late" time. I had been hoping to use this vacation as a way to get my bedtime schedule back on track! Oh well.

**After my father read this he wanted to clarify that he does too trust me with the car. He just has an irrational thing about not having the ability to leave/have a car, that's his, available. ("Irrational thing" is his phrasing, not mine.) Well, since I am the queen of irrational "things", I can hardly point fingers, now, can I.

And I understand it. I too have an irrational thing about not having the ability to drive myself places. It took a lot of trust and was part of the strain of vacation simply having gone in one car where I didn't have the option to jump in my car and go wherever I wanted to, but to depend on other people for transportation. Honestly, I'm not sure I could have done it ten years ago (hey, something that's improved over time!).

continued in Part III

Vacation Time Part V, or Going Home

continued from Part IV

Driving home proved to be much hotter this time around. The sun was out in force, and the sky was so very blue but only a few wispy clouds, and the trees and grass were vivid variations of green.

Mom was our audio-book again, and luckily I wasn't as sleepy this time, so I was able to drive a little less than two-thirds of the way before turning it over to Daddy. It's not so much that I can't drive the whole way (I've done it plenty of times), but the more tired I get, the more distractions bother me, and the testier I get with said distractions. When it's just me in my car with music, I can simply turn the music off. Human companions are a bit more difficult.

So Daddy drove the rest of the way. While we did stop for gas and the required bathroom breaks, we didn't actually stop for supper. Daddy said we'd get home around the time that Mom and he usually ate anyway, and I was perfectly willing just to snack for food. Both Mom and I didn't particularly want a repeat of supper on the way up.

They had picked me up from my house so my car would be there while I was gone, and thus they dropped me off before going home. 

Mom said, as I gathered up all my belongings, "I'll help," and then, as I persisted in putting all the bags on myself, said "why won't you let me help?"

"I don't want to go in there" shrugging in the direction of my house, "with strangers." (I meant strangers to the cats, and she knew that, because her response was an enlightened, "oh, right!")

So I staggered into the kitchen with all my bags strewn around me, and announced that I was home, it was me, you can come out, where is everybody? and about that point Thimble thundered into the kitchen, with Apricot hard on his heels and Colby a few feet behind them.

They were ecstatic to see me home. This is only the second time in their lives I've left overnight, and they were worried. Colby even required some coaxing before he'd admit it was me and he was happy to see me. 

I smelled funny, you see, so they thought it was possible I could be someone else. Although I did sound like me. And look like me. And eventually, they admitted that underneath all the external scents, I smelled like me too.

For the past two days (I took two more days off work after I came back simply because I didn't have my normal weekend to do things like wash clothes, vacuum the house, etc) they have been following me around. Thimble's practically been glued to my side. He hasn't protested his crate at night at all, almost volunteering to go into it (this means things are back to normal, being crated at night, thus the willingness to "leave" me). 

And the other two, while willing to sleep during the day and let me unsupervised, are trading off that sleep so there's always two cats with me ... or magically always in the same room with me.

Typical view these past days ... I turn around from the kitchen counter, and there everyone is.