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Monday, July 18, 2016

Domestication

My cat is convinced that all I do is eat, sleep, and look at Windows. I took a few minutes away from my computer at lunchtime today to trail the cat wand (it's a stick with a colorful length of felt attached, perfect for flipping through the air and dragging on the carpet for cats to pounce on) around the house, then tucked it back on top of the cedar chest in my room. Ten minutes later, when I was back in my upstairs office in front of my dual screens, I heard a clatter on the stairs following by plaintive meowing. Trixie almost never meows. She purrs a lot, but doesn't vocalize. I looked to my right to see what was the matter, and there she was, sitting on the landing, the cat wand beside her, looking at me soulfully. Poor little thing--she was so desperate to play. So, what could I do? She'd brought the toy upstairs for me, so I grabbed the wand and ran her all over the house for ten minutes, until I was sweating and she was panting. Then, I hid the wand where she couldn't find it. I need to find Trixie a friend--she's going to be bored out of her little furry mind otherwise.

She has chosen a favorite chair--one of the pink ones in the living room. She's no longer hiding under the bed or the sofa, but strolls comfortably around her kingdom, lounging on the Persian rugs and rolling over for side and belly rubs. I did take her back to the vet that did her spay, because it looked as if she were getting some sort of infection, with a swelling over the tiny incision in her abdomen. She howled like a barmaid in a tumbrel the whole 25 minute trip each way. The vet check itself, including waiting, took less than 60 seconds--they took a look and said she was having a suture reaction (apparently quite common) and would be fine. I was sure she'd sulk once we got back home, but once she was released from cardboard jail, she immediately forgave me the last hour's indignities and resumed her comfortable acceptance of her surroundings.

I haven't had any allergy problems. For one thing, Trixie doesn't really shed, and for another, I have tried to forestall issues by installing several air filters at strategic points downstairs. These have the added benefit of creating white noise, which is pleasant at bedtime. I have a new vacuum, so my house is dusted and de-furred fairly easily. I'm making a point of not permitting her in my closet and putting all clean clothes up immediately, which means dander isn't spread hither and yon.

Speaking of forbidden territory, I was on my way out to a country wedding Saturday when I passed a church billboard, which read: Pride Kills Faith. True, and succinct, I thought. Then I saw the name of the neighboring landscaping firm, and burst into giggles: Turf Pride. So, serendipity, or subtle aggression?

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