There was some backsliding today. The three recent arrivals had been adjusting to the time zone and the routines of this house. Then the man let his kitty out to play in the back yard, and we learned she has no respect for The Fence. She hopped over it both directions in the thicket for about ten minutes, while we chased her, and then she decided to stop her new mommy's heart. She ran into the road, that sees fairly constant single-car traffic, and ran into the scary, swampy woods on the other side of the street. It's a good thing the man was dressed in heavy-duty clothes and shoes, as I had a little trouble getting very far into the woods wearing snaggable yoga pants and fuzzy slippers. Finding my way around the saw palmettos was a slow process with little success. And Zoe doesn't know me all that well yet, and she doesn't know she can trust me. I'm going to suggest we keep her inside until she's fully assimilated into the pride.
It took several phone calls to get the referrals sent to the specialist, and to get the appointment made, but we are set for a consult with a neurologist for Murray, to see whether there is anything that can be done to get him on four feet and out of his pony cart. I am terrible at getting him in and out of the harness, and I swear something changed on the wheelchair but I'm damned if I can figure out what. It's confounding me, how it doesn't seem to go together like it did a few days ago. I don't know whether he has gained weight already since he arrived, but I'm also finding it increasingly difficult to lift and maneuver him. Shouldn't I be getting stronger by now? I dedicated hours yesterday and today to creating a new bed for him (the first of two), so he stops stealing my little red-headed dog's bed. I made a three-inch tall bed that almost completely fills the cage, with foam wrapped in vinyl and stuffed inside a heavy-duty denim shell. Next challenge is creating a ramp so he can get himself in and out of the cage without catching on the wires or the lip of the door. Better yet would be starting physical therapy so he can walk in and out of it on four legs. I have a dream that someday he will be strong enough to walk through to back door and out to urinate without assistance. Do you know, when I was a teenager, I used to dream of such things as being the lead singer in a rock band or a famous writer? My, how I have been humbled.
The man is snoring away upstairs. He had almost made it to a normal schedule, staying up until midnight last night after the movie, and letting me call the shots when Murray tried to wake us all at 05:45 this morning (I let the big dogs out for a moment, and then told everyone to go back to bed until first light). Then this afternoon, by around 5:00 in the evening, the man decided a nap was imperative, and I agreed and joined him. An hour later, I was back up and active in the house, but now, six hours have passed and I can still hear him snoring away. I can almost guarantee that when I'm ready for bed here soon, he will be waking up, and he'll trade places with me. He'll be down here, playing computer games, while I'm trying--but inevitably failing--to sleep. How long does it take to get back to the time zone you live in, after being stuck in an alternate one for a year and a half? I almost wish this were a sign that he was coming down with something, because it would mean he'd sleep through until morning. But I know my luck isn't that good.
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