So it’s Tuesday afternoon and I’ve nearly recovered from the last 5 days of activity, which included driving up to Greenville, SC, for a mini family reunion – during which Dad met his first great-grandchild – and driving over to Conway, SC, for a football game in which Furman was pummeled by 20 points largely because their special teams gave up 18.
Both events were enjoyable, of course. I’m just not quite as young as I used to be, and that was a lot of driving in a pretty short period of time. Basically, I got about half of the sleep that I needed between Friday and Monday (and, believe me, I was a mess yesterday).
So the big presidential debate was last night. Here’s my take on it:
Moving on, let’s talk about my cat Chamberlain, who has had a pretty rough couple of years but has come through like a champ and, in the process, has turned into possibly the sweetest feline on earth.
It was just about a year ago today that I brought him to his vet because he’d been losing weight and had very little energy. He was diagnosed with diabetes and had to start getting daily insulin shots. A month prior to that visit, I’d taken him in to the vet because he was scratching incessantly and had bald spots all over his head. That, it turned out, was because he had a flea allergy. Just a few bites had turned his life into a nightmare – which was cured with some superb flea medicine and a steroid shot.
As it turned out – or at least appeared to turn out – it was the steroid that kick-started the diabetes; fortunately, he eventually recovered from both. I’d weaned him off of the insulin by about March of this year and everything was going great. He had lots of energy, enjoyed playing and racing around the house, and occasionally snuggled in my lap.
In April, he got startled during one of my lunch hours, jumped off of his cat tree, tore through my music room, lost control cornering on a hardwood floor, and was immediately unable to put any weight on his left leg. Two hours later, we were back at the vet and I was looking at the x-ray confirming that he’d broken the ball off of his left femur. Surgery to extract the broken femur head was scheduled for three days later. A few days after that, he came home and we started a long rehab.
For a week or so, Chamberlain was confined to my guest bedroom – the mattresses removed from the bed and put on the floor so that he wouldn’t try to jump more than a few inches. In the mornings, I’d carry him downstairs for breakfast and then carry him back up to his room while I took my walk. In the evenings, I’d carry him down to lie in the kitchen for a while before bedtime. At night, I slept on the mattresses on the floor so that he could have some company.
It’s now 5 months later and, unless you know what to look for, you’d never know that the little guy has absolutely nothing attaching his left leg to his skeleton. He runs and jumps and plays and does all the things that a cat should do – but his personality has completely changed. Cuddling in my lap is no longer an occasional thing – it’s something that he loves to do whenever I sit down. He used to be somewhat of a loner, but now he wants to be wherever everyone else is. He rarely tears around the house now – not because he can’t, but because he’s more inclined to look around and SEE what’s happening before reacting to it.
Can’t say that I blame him for that.
Anyway, he’s a sweetie. And – hopefully – we’re done with the vet for a while.
I’m on vacation next week. The plan as of now is to drive up to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and spend a week on the southern shore of Lake Superior at the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. I discovered this place last year and fell in love with it. Looking forward to some fresh air, cool temperatures, steady breezes, and solitude.
