Our oldest and largest cat, the estimable Dr Alfred P Love, is causing me concern yet again. He throws up his breakfast almost as often as he keeps it down, and for the last few days, he hasn't seemed very hungry at all. This morning and this evening, he refused to eat totally. When we went through this a few months ago, they gave us a tube of appetite stimulant, so I put some on a Q-tip and rubbed it on the skin of his ears, as instructed. (I should have had gloves on too, not just counted on the swab to keep me safe, but I seem to have escaped an accidental dosing.) I imagined it would work rapidly, for all the fear they instilled in me not to get it on my hands. So far, Alfred is just thirsty, and had no interest in his refrigerated dinner. Muffin Man, please don't stress me this way. We just lost Murray. It's too soon to be worried about you too.
We had a quiet afternoon and evening at home today. Housemate 2 is spending the weekend at her cabin, and Mr S-P took Beinn up to work on building a picnic table at his. Even housemate 1 spent time out and about, taking in the sights and sounds of another cruise night on Main Street. I tried to do functional things while I wasn't distracted by others, but I only accomplished a few basic tasks. I was just so happy to have a still house that it was too hard to move around and ruin it. The Mr uses his cabin as an escape from the modern world. I see my quiet weekends in much the same light.
It's time to honor my new promise to turn in to bed at an earlier hour, but with it being a cruise night, and us living on a major thoroughfare near the center of town, there is an excellent chance that I won't get much sleep until the wee hours of the morning. Saoirse and I will try, though. As long as she doesn't bark all night at loud street rod engines.
No comments:
Post a Comment