I slept late this morning.
Yesterday started in Colorado at 3:30 am. One short car ride, a flight, airport train ride, another flight, airport shuttle, and rides in two more cars brought me to my Ohio home on the ridge by about 8:30 pm.
Easy peasy!
As I turned down the bed, I couldn’t shake the sensation I was still in motion. Luckily, Scout curled up next to me and I was out like a light, sleeping through the night for the first time in longer than I can remember.
When I awoke this morning, I knew I was home before opening my eyes. The sound of the heat pump and even the feel of the bedding are unmistakable elements of home.
And when I opened my eyes, Scout was sitting at my right arm, staring at me. It’s hard to tell how long he was there. He didn’t make a noise and wasn’t asking for anything.
He just sat there watching me as though confirming I was really there. I scratched his ears and he settled in next to me for a nap.
I tried to go back to sleep but the dry nose I always bring home high western elevations made that impossible. But I have stayed in this spot, hurkle durkling for a while and luxuriating in the solace of my own home.
This is partly for me and partly for him. While he didn’t go on a journey, he’s had a rough week too. My parents take good care of him but that’s not the same as having me there and he doesn’t understand where I go or why I would want to leave him.
Our pets are our family but we sometimes have to leave them. Whether it’s for a few hours or a few days, they are left alone and wondering why you left in the first place.
They miss us. He misses me. It doesn’t hurt me to lie here with a stuffy nose for a while longer just so he can luxuriate in the moment of having his person home.
Decluttering has been an ongoing project around here for a while. That’s because I’m moving at an absolute glacial pace without any real hope for improvement in this lifetime.
While motivated to not suffocate under the weight of my own stuff, I’m stymied by two things:
I realized this week that I own so many black socks there is no reason to ever again wear an uncomfortable pair of socks. Slidey socks are unwelcome here.
Scout isn’t all that helpful. I emptied this fabric box earlier this week and he has laid claim to it. He seems to believe it’s the nicest box he’s ever set paw in and hasn’t been receptive to my suggestions that we move it. We certainly can’t give it away since he’s discovered the creature comforts of having a fabric box of one’s own!
I did drop off a carload of donations a couple of weeks ago and have another bag started already. Progress is progress, I guess. Even if it is slow!
Scout went to the vet yesterday for the second time in a week. He sang the song of his people all the way there and most of the way back. He clearly knew where we were going and he was not having it.
You see, we went for a routine annual visit last week but the dr found a heart murmur. We did blood work and it luckily isn’t cause by a heart condition. Instead, they are concerned about his high blood sugar and wanted him back for a glucose test.
So, in case you’re counting (because Scout sure is), I dragged him from home last week so he could be prodded by strangers who would stick him with a shot before sticking him with a needle to take his blood.
This week, things were less dramatic but he did get stuck with another needle.
Unacceptable.
He let me know that he would be speaking to Santa Claws about all this. He had some choice words for where I could go and what I could do with the proverbial horse I rode in on too.
He gets so anxious in the car and at the vet. Even his little paws are sweaty and clammy so that undoubtedly impacts his bloodwork. Poor guy.
Our pets are like our children and it’s hard to help them when they can’t verbalize how they’re feeling. So we just do our best and hope to not be murdered in our sleep after a vet visit.
The world is a mean place sometimes, especially where black animals are concerned. They’re typically the last to be adopted, the subject of superstition, and often the most at risk of abuse or torture.
My little bat cat is mischievous and temperamental at times but he’s also a sweetheart. I can testify that black cats really are the best little friends.
There are no evil cats but there are evil humans. Keep your black animals indoors and safe this Halloween. From me and my bat cat, have a safe and happy day.
I tidied my writing table over the weekend so Scout had to check it out. I’m not sure why but his eyes were big as saucers as he investigated the lack of pens and scrap paper lying about. People say that cats are aloof and without personality but my experience is that they are little characters with big personalities and emotions as valid and worth expressing as any human I know.
I’m grateful for my house panther.