Old Age
and Cunning on a Saturday Afternoon
Welcome,
Smile Warriors to another Saturday, October 5, 2013 in Cat World.
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| Ningee |
You see,
I have no insurance which means I have to pay in cash. It is true I
can get 1% back via the credit card I use and in a medical office,
that becomes a nice chunk of change quickly.
Oh dear
I just noticed Purdy von Sweets, poised on a stack of boxes, nose in
the air, scenting the location of my coffee cup. I must get that
monkey off her back without giving up my coffee...She has it....here
she comes. Ooops, her ass tripped over my foot and landed in the
floor. Ah, little one, you may be old but you are nowhere as old as
Mommy, nor as cunning.
Anyway,
I was admiring my latest accidental fashion find when I noticed the
left side of my nose was swollen worse than prizefighter's after a
bad bout of mat hitting. The right side was trying to catch up and
that means a sinus infection is the cause of my headaches. It is
Fall in South Florida and everything is blooming. With all the rain,
that includes a very healthy mold population, our main uncash crop.
I tried
rather valiantly to get on the government site to register for
insurance but I am in Florida and the highly unpopular according to
our Tea Pot of a governor site was overwhelmed with uninsured
Floridians trying to get insurance. It seems mine was not a unique
story among those living in states governed by idiots thinking they
are in the dark ages and wanting the rest of us to join them. No
Thank You! I lived in the 50's, 60's, 70's, 80's, 90's and what is
considered the 2000's. I never thought I would see this year. I
didn't think I'd survive this long. I was born in 1951 so I got to
see all of the 50's and all of the country as we traveled constantly
from state to state and finally out of the country. I do not want to
go back to any era as none of them were moral, prosperous for all or
had internet. Those typewriters in the museum are what I wrote my
papers on and corrected mistakes with that horrible little bottle of
white paint. You may go back Mr. and Mrs. Senator but not me. In
fact, I'll give you swift kick in your lower posterior to start the
process.
It is
highly possible my little Ningee awoke this morning to creeping age
as it happens fast to cats. They go from sweet kitten to gangly
rebellious teen in a the blink of an eye. One morning you find them
on the kitchen counter demanding breakfast in the proper bowl and
they are adults and fashion conscious. Next thing you know, the are
middle age, enjoying however their food arrives as long as it
arrives. That is where today's story actually begins.
Prescious
has had another stroke, we think. We think because like all cats, he
gets ill on Friday right as the Vet closes. He hates the Vet as in
his world nothing good has ever come of a carrier and a vehicle and I
have to admit, he, from his limited perspective, is right. He was
found abandoned trying to climb onto the median strip of a busy
highway. He lost his first human and home twice, driven away in a
carrier. He had two ear operations, both involving a car and carrier.
You wouldn't want to get in a car or carrier either! That evil man
called the Vet sticks needles in him every time he sees him.
Prescious is not interested in going to that place. I am not
interested in taking him as at 30 +, the diagnosis is let us put him
out of his misery.
The
thing is, he isn't miserable. True, once again, he can't walk but he
has two humans changing his bed and washing him up and feeding him.
That is where today's story really begins. As soon as I entered the
kitchen, being at least 3 hours late, there was a howl of epic
proportions. A recording of that howl would fetch a good price for a
Halloween tape. Breakfast was late. I couldn't get my fingers around
the can of expensive sardines he favors so I had to go for
“commercial cat food”. Yes, cats were looking down their noses at
that, but they'll take it.
I was
looking down my budget. I fished out his quarter of a can as he eats
small amounts frequently. Frequently is defined as whenever a human
walks into the kitchen. I placed the rest of the can on the mobile
counter and covered it with a plastic cat dish. Then I busied myself
making coffee as this day, I needed it to get going. Finally I got
everything set up to write and faintly remembered the cat food I had
forgotten to secure. I really wasn't worried as the Furry 7, who
represent youthful exuberance, had already examined the upturned bowl
and decided there was no way to lift it. There isn't without a hand
with an opposing thumb. So I leisurely, the only way you move at my
age unless something bad is chasing you, made my way back to the
kitchen.
At my
age, you always fear the dreaded senility. I am no exception. The can
was not only missing, but one of the old cats was enjoying a bowl
full of cat food in the middle of the floor as though I had dished it
up for her. Now, George was still asleep. I am the only person here
and try as I may I cannot remember dishing her a can of cat food in
the nice little plastic bowl, but I must have because the can is
missing and there is nary a gram of cat food on the floor. Senility
is knocking on my pate until I notice the can peeking out from under
the mobile center island. She has managed to knock the can and
covering bowl off perfectly so it landed right side up on the floor.
Then she fished the can out, hid it and began to enjoy the spoils of
her raid as the Furry 7 watched from various locations in awe. They
did not even try to take her breakfast from her. Once again old age
and cunning beats youthful exuberance.
As you
know this shopping witch has an infected ear hole from some slight
only my earlobe remembers. I found my little pair of cameos I save
for special occasions, but the posts are bent and I always fear
losing them if I wear them casually around the house. They are really
worth a pretty penny in today's market as they are the real, hand
carved, not the laser, thing. We decided to find me a pair of
earrings at BJ's with gold posts as for some reason when I am
healing, silver irritates the wound. Only gold will do. Meanwhile,
the week before, I had bought a fake pearl chain holder for my
glasses as if they are not secured around my neck they somehow commit
suicide under my feet. Pearl is never my choice and I had bought
three other beaded holders. Napoleon has a habit of flossing on them
and breaking them. My baby has sharp teeth. My decision was to buy
the cheapest pair of post earrings no matter what they were. They
were a nice pair of fresh water pearl studs. They go so nicely with
the pearl eyeglasses holder I bought last week. You wouldn't know one
was fake and the other real unless you can see a difference of about
.09% in the refractive difference between plastic and real pearl. I
can, but I don't let it bother me. The fact that I can bothers a lot
of people.
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