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ffloLast night Dizzy not only was under the recliner when I closed it but---I found out some half an hour later---got stuck there. The poor fella! Turned out his foot was trapped by a wire/cable that curls like an old telephone cord. A brief attempt to lift the chair had him dangling by the foot and yowling, so I curtailed that effort stat. I tried my immediate neighbors for help, as it seemed clear I couldn't get him out myself without a fair chance of crushing him. They didn't reply. It was midnight. They were asleep. But they've since set me to bypass their overnight silencers, which is nice.
Then I called Bert's widow, Susan. I'd called her earlier in the day, on accounta it was Bert's birthday, and the first one he missed. Woulda been 71. I hadn't realized he'd turned 70 that last year. Surprised he didn't retire earlier, tbh. He was going to, later that year, but didn't quite live long enough to. Among other things, she told me that yes, they did celebrate Valentine's Day, and on that day and on her birthday and on his anniversary he'd write her a poem. So I immediately set to thinking of rhymes for "Susan", and the first that came to mind was enough for a quick quattrain: "losin' ".
Susan answered but had to get dressed, and so I cracked the door and got down on the ground to try to keep the kitty company, after locking the other cat up in the bedroom. A couple of times Dud Bud (that's also Dizzy) tried to pull forward and get free, but screeching resulted. It hit me that between the two of us, Susan and I probably didn't have the strength and emergency logic to suffice. I tried calling the emergency vet. They suggested the fire department. So, sure enough, not too long after Susan arrived (in a mask, which surprised me, as I'd forgotten all about COVID) & added to the analysis nicely (although she thought she saw blood, but it turned out that was the stripe around his one knee), here came the fire truck.
The fire truck moved back & forth at the corner, lacking the benefit delivery drivers have of my clarifying note, as my house isn't where it seems it should be, though GPS is much better these past few years. Blinking the porch light didn't seem to be getting their attention, so Susan went out to get them. Pretty soon 3 firefighters, in heavy coats with reflective-letter words, and masks of their own, were coming in.
It took maybe 10 or 15 minutes for them to free the little guy. They were remarkably unafraid of his lashing out at them, in his pain; I could tell from the look in Dud's eye that he was stressed in that way that can make a cat unpredictable, and of course there's the whole reacting-against-pain thing. Once freed, Dizzy went scooting off, and we saw him a few more times, as what he really wanted was to get into the shut bedroom. I picked him up and there seemed no visible damage. He might've been walking just a little funny, not so much like a limp but more like maybe one back paw was turned out.
Then the other big element of the night began to emerge for me, which was what an especially bad mess the house is. When I said here yesterday that I'd cleaned out the linen closet, I didn't mention that it only made things messier, as the inside of the linen closet is great now, with sheets & towels & some tablecloths in there, along with an antique desk telephone, but not the bong I found in the back at the top ---that went out with the trash yesterday. The card table I'd put up to supplement the dining room desk was still up, though, with "other"s and towels and washclothes, and the box of napkins I'd sorted out as keepers to be washed, as well as the rag pile. And there's just a ton of junk all over the place, as my pandemic isolation got the COVID stamina reduction icing on the cake of the "I'll just leave that lying there for now".
Wish I hadn't said to Susan that I'm "ashamed" for her to see it that way. With most friends I might've made some reference to the mess, feeling obliged to convey that I'm aware of it, but given this particular neighbor's tendency to speak critically of others, and to have the Meijer'ses-Briggs "J" inclination rather strongly, something must've made me go that far. Anyway, I now disclaim shame, and declare that I shall not be that way about it. BUT it'd been my goal to clean up by the time I'd need cat sitting in June, and probably at least in the living and dining rooms before then, so Peter & I can have a music date. And now I just want to do it sooner. You never know when 3 firepeople will be coming in and getting on your floor and one of them will drop his radio, which is now blinking a low battery warning at me.
Yeah, I'll call the fire dept---or maybe try using the radio---to tell 'em, and get it back to them. It's the whole belt apparatus & everything. Very fancy/professional.
As far as kitty goes, it was especially great to see him wrestling the big crinkley catnip carrot this morning. Me? I've been cleaning up & cooking, and will probably do more, but first I need to take a shower so if the fire people come back for the radio, I won't be naked when they get here.
A dedicated reader of 'Ff'lo might remember me having had hesitations about getting a recliner at all, worried that a cat would get crushed under it. When it turned out that I had accidentally unreclined with a cat under there, and he was fine, just hung out until I re-reclined the chair, I was majorly relieved. When it happened a few more times, I thought the chair manufacturers had maybe taken that possibility into account, somehow. Still, often enough I just put my feet up on the stool that was my pre-recliner footrest, when I don't know where both cats are. And I suspect this recliner's going to get a whole lot less reclining now. Probably only when Dizzy Dud is in my arms.
Dizzy had a least 2 big traumas before this that I'm aware of. And I wasn't with him for the whole first year-and-a-little of his life. So who knows who many of his 9 lives he's used up. He's such a sweet delicate little lovebug. I'm so glad he's okay.
Then I called Bert's widow, Susan. I'd called her earlier in the day, on accounta it was Bert's birthday, and the first one he missed. Woulda been 71. I hadn't realized he'd turned 70 that last year. Surprised he didn't retire earlier, tbh. He was going to, later that year, but didn't quite live long enough to. Among other things, she told me that yes, they did celebrate Valentine's Day, and on that day and on her birthday and on his anniversary he'd write her a poem. So I immediately set to thinking of rhymes for "Susan", and the first that came to mind was enough for a quick quattrain: "losin' ".
Susan answered but had to get dressed, and so I cracked the door and got down on the ground to try to keep the kitty company, after locking the other cat up in the bedroom. A couple of times Dud Bud (that's also Dizzy) tried to pull forward and get free, but screeching resulted. It hit me that between the two of us, Susan and I probably didn't have the strength and emergency logic to suffice. I tried calling the emergency vet. They suggested the fire department. So, sure enough, not too long after Susan arrived (in a mask, which surprised me, as I'd forgotten all about COVID) & added to the analysis nicely (although she thought she saw blood, but it turned out that was the stripe around his one knee), here came the fire truck.
The fire truck moved back & forth at the corner, lacking the benefit delivery drivers have of my clarifying note, as my house isn't where it seems it should be, though GPS is much better these past few years. Blinking the porch light didn't seem to be getting their attention, so Susan went out to get them. Pretty soon 3 firefighters, in heavy coats with reflective-letter words, and masks of their own, were coming in.
It took maybe 10 or 15 minutes for them to free the little guy. They were remarkably unafraid of his lashing out at them, in his pain; I could tell from the look in Dud's eye that he was stressed in that way that can make a cat unpredictable, and of course there's the whole reacting-against-pain thing. Once freed, Dizzy went scooting off, and we saw him a few more times, as what he really wanted was to get into the shut bedroom. I picked him up and there seemed no visible damage. He might've been walking just a little funny, not so much like a limp but more like maybe one back paw was turned out.
Then the other big element of the night began to emerge for me, which was what an especially bad mess the house is. When I said here yesterday that I'd cleaned out the linen closet, I didn't mention that it only made things messier, as the inside of the linen closet is great now, with sheets & towels & some tablecloths in there, along with an antique desk telephone, but not the bong I found in the back at the top ---that went out with the trash yesterday. The card table I'd put up to supplement the dining room desk was still up, though, with "other"s and towels and washclothes, and the box of napkins I'd sorted out as keepers to be washed, as well as the rag pile. And there's just a ton of junk all over the place, as my pandemic isolation got the COVID stamina reduction icing on the cake of the "I'll just leave that lying there for now".
Wish I hadn't said to Susan that I'm "ashamed" for her to see it that way. With most friends I might've made some reference to the mess, feeling obliged to convey that I'm aware of it, but given this particular neighbor's tendency to speak critically of others, and to have the Meijer'ses-Briggs "J" inclination rather strongly, something must've made me go that far. Anyway, I now disclaim shame, and declare that I shall not be that way about it. BUT it'd been my goal to clean up by the time I'd need cat sitting in June, and probably at least in the living and dining rooms before then, so Peter & I can have a music date. And now I just want to do it sooner. You never know when 3 firepeople will be coming in and getting on your floor and one of them will drop his radio, which is now blinking a low battery warning at me.
Yeah, I'll call the fire dept---or maybe try using the radio---to tell 'em, and get it back to them. It's the whole belt apparatus & everything. Very fancy/professional.
As far as kitty goes, it was especially great to see him wrestling the big crinkley catnip carrot this morning. Me? I've been cleaning up & cooking, and will probably do more, but first I need to take a shower so if the fire people come back for the radio, I won't be naked when they get here.
A dedicated reader of 'Ff'lo might remember me having had hesitations about getting a recliner at all, worried that a cat would get crushed under it. When it turned out that I had accidentally unreclined with a cat under there, and he was fine, just hung out until I re-reclined the chair, I was majorly relieved. When it happened a few more times, I thought the chair manufacturers had maybe taken that possibility into account, somehow. Still, often enough I just put my feet up on the stool that was my pre-recliner footrest, when I don't know where both cats are. And I suspect this recliner's going to get a whole lot less reclining now. Probably only when Dizzy Dud is in my arms.
Dizzy had a least 2 big traumas before this that I'm aware of. And I wasn't with him for the whole first year-and-a-little of his life. So who knows who many of his 9 lives he's used up. He's such a sweet delicate little lovebug. I'm so glad he's okay.
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Date: Feb. 21st, 2022 07:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Feb. 21st, 2022 07:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: Feb. 21st, 2022 08:07 pm (UTC)