I had a busy day. Now, I'm not trying to compare MY busy to others. I'm retired and until Dad moved in 3 months ago today, I lived alone. So some people are busy 25 hours a day, 8 days a week and I wasn't one of them.
But, for me, it was busy. I got up at 10 am. That would seem luxurious, but it was only 7 hours sleep because I was up late on the computer. The only "me" time I get is after Dad goes to bed at 11:30. So I stay up late a lot more often than I used to. After the usual getting showered and dressed stuff:
1. Fed the cats.
2. Made lunch (fancy sandwiches with crudites, as usual).
3. Read the whole newspaper.
4. Took the newest captured groundhog to a relocation site.
5. Grocery-shopped
6. Farm market-shopped.
7. Let the cats outside for 30 minutes while accompanying them around the yard.
8. Brushed the sticky-seeds out of their fur after coming in.
9. Mixed dough in the bread machine for making dinner rolls.
10. Marinated pork chops in minced fresh garlic/ginger/basil/sage leaves.
11. Pressed down dinner roll dough lightly on silpat to even thickness and allow rising.
12. Started breadloaf in breadmachine.
13. Played with cats 15 minutes.
14. Prepared dinner. Cut tops of green beans, made salad, cooked potato, cooked corn. All fresh. Coated pork chops with home-made "shake&bake".
15. Just as everything is almost cooked, Dad insists he must fill up the salt and pepper shakers which I do not realize yet). Typical confusing conversation ensues: D: Where is the salt and pepper? Me: On the table. D: I can see that! Me: What??? D: I need the salt! Me: (I check the table, there is salt and pepper there), its right there. D: Where is YOUR salt? Me: Its in the grinders, but don't ask me this NOW, I'm cooking.
He likes salt and pepper shakers, I like grinders. His salt and pepper shakers were only 25% full and it distressed him, so he "needed to get then refilled at once". I was busy trying to get everything out of the oven and stovetop pans and he has to worry about that RIGHT THEN?
This is a habit of his I am discovering. He bothers people with time-consuming trivial matters when they are most busy. I guess that is "passive-aggressive". Thinking back, I see that has been a lifelong habit of minor manipulation. When I was a teen, I enjoyed the process of making meals. I used to send time with Mom in the kitchen being useful at small stuff (peeling carrots, chopping lettuce for salads, etc). I recall Dad coming in and asking odd questions even then.
I have always had a fine relationship with both my parents, in their own special ways, but now I have more sympathy for Mom at those times. Of course, each had their own individual ways to annoy too, but I learned to deal with those. But I've got Dad's all day these days...
I ordered him OUT OF THE KITCHEN and told him I would deal with the salt&pepper crisis later. He is not used to that. Well, we are BOTH on a learning curve...
16. We had a fine dinner of baked breaded pork chops, salad, corn on the cob, baked potato (OK, M/V potato, but there's not much difference) and green beans overcooked as he likes them.
17. Cut the risen dinner roll dough into squares and set them in the oven to bake. Recipe says 30 minutes, but they came out hard last time. Made it 25 minutes.
18. Took the bread machine dough out to remove the mixer handle before baking. This really helps. If I take the loaf out with the handle in it, it tears a chunk of bread out of the bottom. More timing effort, but better results.
19. Put the dough back in the breadmachine to finish "loafing". Dad loves my bread (so does everyone). Adding garlic powder, onion powder and a lot of oregano, and using beer in place of water really makes great bread!
Oops, be right back, I just heard the TV go to a color signal, which means that Dad is losing the nightly struggle with the remote control...
OK, I fixed that (again).
20. Took the breadloaf out to cool and started the mixer going for more chocolate chip cookies. Dad has both a sweet tooth and a starch tooth. Cookies, coffeecake, potatoes, bread. He can eat spaghetti with bread and a potato, and cookies for dessert. I suppose that, at his age, it doesn't really matter.
21. Played "toss mousies" with Iza while I ate dinner. She loves that. She attacks them fiercely, and often fetches them back to me.
22. Dad can't stay away from Fox News.
23. Put half the dinner rolls in a plastic food bag on the counter, the other half in a okastic food bag in the freezer.
24. Dad will be wanting a bowl of ice cream soon. I try to get him to eat fresh fruit, but that was never something he got used to.
25. Cleaned the litter boxes.
26. The rest of the night: Visit cat blog friends, make tomorrow's post, email those who have written, listen unhapily to Fox News on the TV from 3 rooms away (Dad is hard of hearing).
27. Just before going to bed, feed the cats.
28. After going to bed, sleep with cats...
Tomorrow, repeat again and again and again...
Monday, August 20, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
Dad, Claiming He Is COLD!
This is the clothes that Dad wears.
This is the clothes that Dad wears when he says he is "TOO COLD" in the house.
Note the thin top shirt, not even with an undershirt. Note the thin shorts. Note the socks even pushed down to the shoes!
This is the thermostat in the house in the house that Dad claims is TOO COLD.
And it is 80 in his bedroom and in the TV room... And he complains about THAT. But wait, when it is 80 in his bedroom he is happy, and when it is 80 in the TV room, it is "too cold?!
This is what I have to wear every day to keep from melting to death... Short pants...
Short sleeves...
And I sweat in bed every night...
This is no way to live... But the alternative is to walk around nekkid, an no one wants THAT!
This is the clothes that Dad wears when he says he is "TOO COLD" in the house.
This is the thermostat in the house in the house that Dad claims is TOO COLD.
This is what I have to wear every day to keep from melting to death... Short pants...
This is no way to live... But the alternative is to walk around nekkid, an no one wants THAT!
Sunday, August 12, 2012
August Meteor Showers!
And I can't see them AGAIN this year. Its all overcast. I'm a bit conflicted by that. First, the clouds are there because we got a decent rainfall this evening, and we sure needed THAT! 1 1/4" of rain in the past 2 days, and that's about the best since April. Second, the temperature dropped to 70 (briefly) during the daylight, and I haven't felt THAT outside for months.
But I love astronomy. When I moved here 26 years ago, I could occasionally see the milky way, and seeing the constellations was routine. Over the years, light pollution and general haze has eliminated the milky way from home "seeing" (astronomese for "good viewing) , and it is a rare night when the constellations are clear. About 2 months ago, I was taking the recycling bins to the street when I realized that the stars were quite visible. I don't know "why", just one of those things.
I stayed out for an hour just "seeing". I even noticed one star that shouldn't have been there in a constellation. I went to the computer to see if there was a new nova star, and discovered it was Jupiter. So I went back out and looked around a bit. Sure enough, I found Mars and another planet (Saturn I suppose, because Venus would have been closer to the sun).
It made me think back to a camping trip to Canada in 1980 (or thereabouts). The first night, the stars shone madly and the milky way was vivid. The other nights were overcast. Well, at least I saw that one night.
Can you imagine what the night sky must have looked like "only" a few centuries ago? Absolutely ablaze with stars! No wonder our ancestors saw images among them, there were SO MANY more stars visible. I envy that so much.
But to get back to the beginning (meteor showers, remember?), tonight was the night to see the Perseid meteor shower. And it is predicted to be one of the better years for it (about 100 meteors per hour). I won't see it, and it is probably near it peak about know. I am covered with clouds...
There are only a few major meteor showers each year, and even those have really good years only every few/many years.
Sorry, that's a bit confusing. We see meteor showers at the same times every year because the Earth passes through the same point as some cometary debris orbit at the same time every year. Meaning that the cometary debris that we call meteors intersects Earth orbit the same time every year, but the debris is not spread out along the orbit uniformly. So some years, we hit denser patches of debris than in other years. Those times can be spectacular. But you can't see them if there are clouds; and this year, for me, there are clouds.
You know what frustrates me most? MOST years, the sky is overcast here on the best meteor nights. I feel cursed sometimes. Its all random, of course, but I still fell unlucky about meteor showers. I'll have to go look at OTHER people's images of the meteors tomorrow on websites. Well, at least there is that. But it's not the same as real seeing. And I miss real seeing...
But I love astronomy. When I moved here 26 years ago, I could occasionally see the milky way, and seeing the constellations was routine. Over the years, light pollution and general haze has eliminated the milky way from home "seeing" (astronomese for "good viewing) , and it is a rare night when the constellations are clear. About 2 months ago, I was taking the recycling bins to the street when I realized that the stars were quite visible. I don't know "why", just one of those things.
I stayed out for an hour just "seeing". I even noticed one star that shouldn't have been there in a constellation. I went to the computer to see if there was a new nova star, and discovered it was Jupiter. So I went back out and looked around a bit. Sure enough, I found Mars and another planet (Saturn I suppose, because Venus would have been closer to the sun).
It made me think back to a camping trip to Canada in 1980 (or thereabouts). The first night, the stars shone madly and the milky way was vivid. The other nights were overcast. Well, at least I saw that one night.
Can you imagine what the night sky must have looked like "only" a few centuries ago? Absolutely ablaze with stars! No wonder our ancestors saw images among them, there were SO MANY more stars visible. I envy that so much.
But to get back to the beginning (meteor showers, remember?), tonight was the night to see the Perseid meteor shower. And it is predicted to be one of the better years for it (about 100 meteors per hour). I won't see it, and it is probably near it peak about know. I am covered with clouds...
There are only a few major meteor showers each year, and even those have really good years only every few/many years.
Sorry, that's a bit confusing. We see meteor showers at the same times every year because the Earth passes through the same point as some cometary debris orbit at the same time every year. Meaning that the cometary debris that we call meteors intersects Earth orbit the same time every year, but the debris is not spread out along the orbit uniformly. So some years, we hit denser patches of debris than in other years. Those times can be spectacular. But you can't see them if there are clouds; and this year, for me, there are clouds.
You know what frustrates me most? MOST years, the sky is overcast here on the best meteor nights. I feel cursed sometimes. Its all random, of course, but I still fell unlucky about meteor showers. I'll have to go look at OTHER people's images of the meteors tomorrow on websites. Well, at least there is that. But it's not the same as real seeing. And I miss real seeing...
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Living With Dad, 14
First, my thanks to all who offerred suggestions on good elder-friendly TV/Cable remote control devices. I ordered one I found through Amazon and it arrived today. I haven't tried it out yet because it needs 4 AAA baterries and I need to buy more recharageable ones (rechargeable batteries are the way to go these days). But everytime I think I have "too many", I get another device and need more. I've looked at the control, and it has nice big buttons without too many of them, so I think it may serve well (if it works as advertised). But now that I have your good list of suggestions, I may get a 2nd one. I like Verizon FiOS cable/internet/phone service, but their remote controls even frustrate ME. I wish Verizon would use the same remote control that Comcast used - it never gave me any trouble. I don't need a remote with bigger buttons for myself (yet) but I need one that actually registers the buttons I push firmly and at a normal speed. So I will get a 2nd from the list of suggestions.
Second, I'm concerned by changes in Dad's preferences and understandings. 10 weeks ago, Dad liked the way I steamed vegetables. "Cooked, but still firm". Now, suddenly, he wants them soft. He used to like to tell how a former-co-worker-turned-chinese-restaurant-owner said the secret of veggies was to "cook until crisp". Now they must be soft enough to separate with the edge of a fork. He can still use a knife well enough. It occurs to me that that is the way his mother cooked vegetables...
I considered dental problems. Dad had a twinge from a tooth infection when he first came here. The dentist couldn't decide between 2 teeth, so he prescribed anti-biotics, then a root canal operation on the infected tooth ("because the infection will return"). The estimate was $950, and Dad is miserly. So he might be hiding a tooth problem. But he happily eats the raw carrots and celery I give him with his lunch sandwich. So I think it isn't the "raw veggie" that is bothering him. It has to be some sudden preference change. Do old folks change that fast?
I've mentioned before that Dad likes to watch Fox News all day. He asked today why I won't sit and watch TV with him. Well, I don't watch much TV to start with (things to do, I like to stay active). But you don't have to be a communist to not love Fox News. They raise the hair on the back of my neck. And it is hard to be in hearing range of the TV (which of course has to be loud because Dad's hearing is fading). So I try to stay usefully busy "elsewhere".
Third, he is having greater difficulties with mechanical things. The TV remote is one example (see above), but its not JUST manipulating the buttons. He is worse at understanding what the buttons on the remote and the screens on the TV even MEAN than just a few weeks ago.
Take the program grid. It shows the time along the top and channels down the side. He used to have difficulty remembering how to scroll up and down the list. Now he doesn't understand what it IS. On the remote, I have tried to reduce the explanations to simple "Channel Up or Down" and "Volume". He is losing the understanding of that.
Fourth, he is dozing off more often during the day. He doesn't believe me when I tell him he dozes off a dozen times a day (that I know of).
Fifth, I catch him standing in place for minutes at a time, hunched over and unmoving.
Sixth, every hot day, he complains that the kitchen ceiling light is broken. Every day, I explain that the fluorescent light ballast doesn't work well in hot weather (hot attic exposure) and needs to be left on when he leaves the room. Every day, he turns it off every time he leaves the room.
Seventh, Fox "News" has been his channel of choice for decades. Today, as I left to go grocery shopping, he was stuck on the TV listing screen. I asked him if he wanted me to change it to Fox News. He asked what that was. Quite frankly, if he forgets about Fox News, I will be delighted. But that he forgot it is a concern.
Eighth, I allow Iza out with me sometimes. I let Marley out with me (as a test) last week. Today I let all 3 cats out with me. I did it with Dad watching, and I told him that I was doing so. He watched me let them out. 10 minutes later, Dad was on the deck asking me if I knew there was a cat outside. Never mind that he was seeing me standing next to 2 of them and taking pictures. His memory was not 10 minutes long.
There is more, but that's sufficient. Dad is getting worse (in some ways) quickly. In other ways, he is doing fine. If Dad's brain is a house, some rooms are staying relatively clean and functional. Others are completely falling apart. It's hard to watch. I can adjust to most of the changes. If he wants his brocolli boiled to mush, fine. If he needs help with the TV, fine. If he thinks I don't get a newspaper each day, when I set it on the middle on the dining room table, thats fine.
But there is a day coming when he won't be able to manage his personal hygiene. I'll have to give up at that point.
Second, I'm concerned by changes in Dad's preferences and understandings. 10 weeks ago, Dad liked the way I steamed vegetables. "Cooked, but still firm". Now, suddenly, he wants them soft. He used to like to tell how a former-co-worker-turned-chinese-restaurant-owner said the secret of veggies was to "cook until crisp". Now they must be soft enough to separate with the edge of a fork. He can still use a knife well enough. It occurs to me that that is the way his mother cooked vegetables...
I considered dental problems. Dad had a twinge from a tooth infection when he first came here. The dentist couldn't decide between 2 teeth, so he prescribed anti-biotics, then a root canal operation on the infected tooth ("because the infection will return"). The estimate was $950, and Dad is miserly. So he might be hiding a tooth problem. But he happily eats the raw carrots and celery I give him with his lunch sandwich. So I think it isn't the "raw veggie" that is bothering him. It has to be some sudden preference change. Do old folks change that fast?
I've mentioned before that Dad likes to watch Fox News all day. He asked today why I won't sit and watch TV with him. Well, I don't watch much TV to start with (things to do, I like to stay active). But you don't have to be a communist to not love Fox News. They raise the hair on the back of my neck. And it is hard to be in hearing range of the TV (which of course has to be loud because Dad's hearing is fading). So I try to stay usefully busy "elsewhere".
Third, he is having greater difficulties with mechanical things. The TV remote is one example (see above), but its not JUST manipulating the buttons. He is worse at understanding what the buttons on the remote and the screens on the TV even MEAN than just a few weeks ago.
Take the program grid. It shows the time along the top and channels down the side. He used to have difficulty remembering how to scroll up and down the list. Now he doesn't understand what it IS. On the remote, I have tried to reduce the explanations to simple "Channel Up or Down" and "Volume". He is losing the understanding of that.
Fourth, he is dozing off more often during the day. He doesn't believe me when I tell him he dozes off a dozen times a day (that I know of).
Fifth, I catch him standing in place for minutes at a time, hunched over and unmoving.
Sixth, every hot day, he complains that the kitchen ceiling light is broken. Every day, I explain that the fluorescent light ballast doesn't work well in hot weather (hot attic exposure) and needs to be left on when he leaves the room. Every day, he turns it off every time he leaves the room.
Seventh, Fox "News" has been his channel of choice for decades. Today, as I left to go grocery shopping, he was stuck on the TV listing screen. I asked him if he wanted me to change it to Fox News. He asked what that was. Quite frankly, if he forgets about Fox News, I will be delighted. But that he forgot it is a concern.
Eighth, I allow Iza out with me sometimes. I let Marley out with me (as a test) last week. Today I let all 3 cats out with me. I did it with Dad watching, and I told him that I was doing so. He watched me let them out. 10 minutes later, Dad was on the deck asking me if I knew there was a cat outside. Never mind that he was seeing me standing next to 2 of them and taking pictures. His memory was not 10 minutes long.
There is more, but that's sufficient. Dad is getting worse (in some ways) quickly. In other ways, he is doing fine. If Dad's brain is a house, some rooms are staying relatively clean and functional. Others are completely falling apart. It's hard to watch. I can adjust to most of the changes. If he wants his brocolli boiled to mush, fine. If he needs help with the TV, fine. If he thinks I don't get a newspaper each day, when I set it on the middle on the dining room table, thats fine.
But there is a day coming when he won't be able to manage his personal hygiene. I'll have to give up at that point.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Dad, Walking
I love it when Dad walks around the yard. He stops to look at the flowers.
And he goes back to look where the groundhogs burrow. He remembers things about groundhogs. Like how they sit up when you whistle at them. That's from a long way in his past, but he DOES know that groundhogs annoy my around my garden, so he thinks to look for them out back often.
Not that he could sneak up on one and see it, but its the thought that counts...
He likes this chair in the shade of the saucer magnolia tree. I missed him sitting in it, but you can see that he is just getting up from it.
I don't want to be too obvious taking pictures of him. He doesn't like being seen hunched over, but that is his reality these days. I just accept it.
Love you, Dad...
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Hmm...
I don't want it to sound all negative. There are good points. Dad appreciates my cooking. I make him laugh with my rather casual references to his age and infirmities. Yes, that can be funny. We both know that neither of us will live forever, and when I make a joke about it, he can smile.
I don't mean that getting very old and staring death in the face is funny, but there are small things he can accept when I make light of them.
He falls, and I say that I set the gravity meter wrong again. When he struggles to sign his name on a check, I tell him I gave him the trick pen again. When the cats get in the way of his feet, I say they just want him on the floor so he can give them scritchies. When he sees his annuity check on the monthly bank statement, sometimes I ask him how long he thinks I can get away with it going in there after the Caddies take him to that great golf course in the sky.
Dad knows he is old and fading. I know he is old and fading. There isn't a way around that. Perhaps the best thing I can do is just make things easier for him as long as I can. A little humor helps. And I am a bit surprised he smiles at my jokes. I know what I am doing, and HE knows what I am doing. He's not stupid, just old.
He is fading. He's walking worse than when he arrived here 10 weeks ago. He knows it is harder for him to even sign a check when I even write it out for him. He knows he is sleeping in the chair in front of the TV (but not how much more often than 2 months ago). He knows what being 90 means.
For the first time, he is examining the walker. He asked if I would carry it outside for him to use. "Would I" is almost insulting, but I know he doesn't mean it that way. What he means is "I need this, and I know you will help me. WHEN I finally ask you." I understand that.
I record some of his strangest statements, I take the few pictures I can. I'm only trying to record his last days for family. And hekp him the best I can.
I'm lucky in this. I lived alone. I was retired. I was well-off myself. I had free time. I was the obvious right place for Dad to be in his final years until he needs professional assistance. And that time is not yet.
That doesn't mean that Dad isn't often confused (and CONFUSING) a lot of times. Helping him pay his bills is maddening sometimes. But we get through it. That doesn't mean that I wouldn't rather live alone again. That doesn't mean that the cats wouldn't rather have just ME around. I don't have to shove at them with a foot in order to get them out of my way like Dad does. I mean, they really DO get in his way deliberately to seek attention. THEY don't know he can't just walk around them like I do.
Dad has his brighter moments. Today, he remembered the speed of light while I had an astronomy CD on, and I was surprised. Sometimes, he sees the flaws in political arguments of his favored side (Republican). Not often, but sometimes. When he asked how I "monitored the deck for failure" (which confused me at first), he also understood that my 16" joists (every other joist double thick) made it less likely that the deck would fail and he felt easier about walking out on the deck. I love those bright moments when he is still analytic... There are thoughts in the old brain yet. And I will keep engaging him in any areas he can still think about.
We continue, two aging guys living together as long as I can manage it... Him seeing his past in me, and me seeing my future in him.
I don't mean that getting very old and staring death in the face is funny, but there are small things he can accept when I make light of them.
He falls, and I say that I set the gravity meter wrong again. When he struggles to sign his name on a check, I tell him I gave him the trick pen again. When the cats get in the way of his feet, I say they just want him on the floor so he can give them scritchies. When he sees his annuity check on the monthly bank statement, sometimes I ask him how long he thinks I can get away with it going in there after the Caddies take him to that great golf course in the sky.
Dad knows he is old and fading. I know he is old and fading. There isn't a way around that. Perhaps the best thing I can do is just make things easier for him as long as I can. A little humor helps. And I am a bit surprised he smiles at my jokes. I know what I am doing, and HE knows what I am doing. He's not stupid, just old.
He is fading. He's walking worse than when he arrived here 10 weeks ago. He knows it is harder for him to even sign a check when I even write it out for him. He knows he is sleeping in the chair in front of the TV (but not how much more often than 2 months ago). He knows what being 90 means.
For the first time, he is examining the walker. He asked if I would carry it outside for him to use. "Would I" is almost insulting, but I know he doesn't mean it that way. What he means is "I need this, and I know you will help me. WHEN I finally ask you." I understand that.
I record some of his strangest statements, I take the few pictures I can. I'm only trying to record his last days for family. And hekp him the best I can.
I'm lucky in this. I lived alone. I was retired. I was well-off myself. I had free time. I was the obvious right place for Dad to be in his final years until he needs professional assistance. And that time is not yet.
That doesn't mean that Dad isn't often confused (and CONFUSING) a lot of times. Helping him pay his bills is maddening sometimes. But we get through it. That doesn't mean that I wouldn't rather live alone again. That doesn't mean that the cats wouldn't rather have just ME around. I don't have to shove at them with a foot in order to get them out of my way like Dad does. I mean, they really DO get in his way deliberately to seek attention. THEY don't know he can't just walk around them like I do.
Dad has his brighter moments. Today, he remembered the speed of light while I had an astronomy CD on, and I was surprised. Sometimes, he sees the flaws in political arguments of his favored side (Republican). Not often, but sometimes. When he asked how I "monitored the deck for failure" (which confused me at first), he also understood that my 16" joists (every other joist double thick) made it less likely that the deck would fail and he felt easier about walking out on the deck. I love those bright moments when he is still analytic... There are thoughts in the old brain yet. And I will keep engaging him in any areas he can still think about.
We continue, two aging guys living together as long as I can manage it... Him seeing his past in me, and me seeing my future in him.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Frustrated!
I just spent 2 hours online with Verizon agents trying to find a simple device that would help my 90 year old dad change TV FIOS channels, with no success.
There SHOULD be a simple device with big easy buttons that will let Dad change channels. All it has to be is a number pad with big buttons and with a “YES” button. Do you know of any such device?
Even the few BIG BUTTON remotes I found have too many buttons on them. Dad can't handle that. He needs something that only has 0-9 and "YES".
Mark
There SHOULD be a simple device with big easy buttons that will let Dad change channels. All it has to be is a number pad with big buttons and with a “YES” button. Do you know of any such device?
Even the few BIG BUTTON remotes I found have too many buttons on them. Dad can't handle that. He needs something that only has 0-9 and "YES".
Mark
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Living With Dad, 13
The good news... Dad thought to ask about his tax forms.
The bad news, he thinks he has to add Maryland forms this year because he moved in with me this year, and he is looking around his duffel bags for 2012 forms. Why does he have to ask my these difficult questions while I am trying to prepare dinner?
More good news... He took out the walker and looked it over carefuly.
The bad news... He wonders how much he could get selling it.
Good news, he thinks he might need to try using the walker. Never mind that he thought of selling it.
You know, its a good thing I have a base in sci-fi. Where strange things happen. I feel oddly well-equipped for surprises.
Aside from all that, Dad sleeps in the chair in front of the TV a lot more than he realizes. More than when he first arrived here too. He probably sleeps in bed more than he thinks he does. He says he doesn't sleep at night (and I have no way of telling), but he doesn't know that he sleeps during the day. So maybe he sleeps a lot at night and never knows.
He says he gets up many times at night. But, quite frankly, I would know. The hall floorboards squeak. I've lived alone so long that any little sound in the house registers on me. I know when the cats walk into the room. Sometimes he is so soundly asleep and quiet for hours that I go to his door and listen for him breathing.
Maybe one night, he won't be...
This is all entirely weird to me. I still can't quite get used to the idea of someone else living in the house all the time. Just having someone else in the house is strange enough, but being responsible for that person is "strange squared".
The bad news, he thinks he has to add Maryland forms this year because he moved in with me this year, and he is looking around his duffel bags for 2012 forms. Why does he have to ask my these difficult questions while I am trying to prepare dinner?
More good news... He took out the walker and looked it over carefuly.
The bad news... He wonders how much he could get selling it.
Good news, he thinks he might need to try using the walker. Never mind that he thought of selling it.
You know, its a good thing I have a base in sci-fi. Where strange things happen. I feel oddly well-equipped for surprises.
Aside from all that, Dad sleeps in the chair in front of the TV a lot more than he realizes. More than when he first arrived here too. He probably sleeps in bed more than he thinks he does. He says he doesn't sleep at night (and I have no way of telling), but he doesn't know that he sleeps during the day. So maybe he sleeps a lot at night and never knows.
He says he gets up many times at night. But, quite frankly, I would know. The hall floorboards squeak. I've lived alone so long that any little sound in the house registers on me. I know when the cats walk into the room. Sometimes he is so soundly asleep and quiet for hours that I go to his door and listen for him breathing.
Maybe one night, he won't be...
This is all entirely weird to me. I still can't quite get used to the idea of someone else living in the house all the time. Just having someone else in the house is strange enough, but being responsible for that person is "strange squared".
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Living With Dad, 12
Dad keeps complaining that he can't sleep at night. I find that hard to believe. He probably doesn't realize how much he sleeps. He falls asleep in the chair in front of the TV a dozen times a day (that I notice) for about 20 minutes at a time. So he probably sleeps more in bed than he realizes.
His awareness of sleeping is iffy. He often denies it when I've been right there seeing him wake up. It's hard to miss. The downward angle of the head, the non-responsiveness to my walking around him, etc.
He responds to what I assume are dreams as if reality. He will suddenly wake up and go "answer" the door, or the telephone. Or he will suddenly ask what I asked for help with (when I was just sitting quietly.
He may be reverting to his childcare years, too. He will suddenly ask toward the end of a meal if I have had enough to eat. At the end of a recent dinner, he asked if I needed butter. At least he hasn't asked me if I need to go to the bathroom...
He is having trouble not falling down when he walks (fell twice this week). He has a walker and a roller, but I can't get him to use those yet. He doesn't hurt himself (well, maybe it is more of a collapse to the floor than a real fall), but I'm going to have to insist soon. My plan is to get him to use them for brief outside walks first, then back and forth exercise hallway walks in the house, then finally for everytime use. I understand that the walker represents another loss of ability that he resents, so I don't want to just say "every time, NOW"! It wouldn't work.
At least he maintains a healthy appetite. And nutritionally, he is probably better off than anytime before in his life. I don't say that lightly. HIS Mom was a very good cook and MY Mom was a good cook, but neither of them had any idea of "balanced meals" (his idea of properly-cooked vegetables are "boiled to death". Gramma might have made GREAT chicken and dumplings, but that doesn't make a balanced meal. Mom provided vegetables with each meal, but that's where his idea of "boiled to death" vegetables came from. Heck, I never knew veggies could be cooked less than "mushable" until I went off to college and started to learn to cook for myself and discovered "steaming".
So, for the last 2 months, Dad has been getting a lunch sandwich that has lots on lettuce and some onion along with the meat (and he LIKES them). For dinner, there is some fresh meat (usually baked or braised), a tossed salad, a potato (he insists), a green veggie and a yellow/orange veggie. He always says it is "too much" but he eats it all. I am going to try reds, like beets, next. One change at a time...
He was basically just eating hotdogs, frozen fish, bread, and ice cream before I got him up here with me. Easy to prepare in the M/V.
Still, I know I'm just sticking a finger in the dike. Things will get worse. He will REALLY start falling, will lose appetite, REALLY not sleep (or sleep much of the day), have routine audio and visual hallucinations. His conversation already makes little sense SOMETIMES, one day it will make no sense MOST of the time...
A part of me wants to observe this carefully so that I have a better understanding of what is to come for me. But I'm not sure how useful such knowledge would be. When that time comes, I won't remember these days.
Que sera, sera...
His awareness of sleeping is iffy. He often denies it when I've been right there seeing him wake up. It's hard to miss. The downward angle of the head, the non-responsiveness to my walking around him, etc.
He responds to what I assume are dreams as if reality. He will suddenly wake up and go "answer" the door, or the telephone. Or he will suddenly ask what I asked for help with (when I was just sitting quietly.
He may be reverting to his childcare years, too. He will suddenly ask toward the end of a meal if I have had enough to eat. At the end of a recent dinner, he asked if I needed butter. At least he hasn't asked me if I need to go to the bathroom...
He is having trouble not falling down when he walks (fell twice this week). He has a walker and a roller, but I can't get him to use those yet. He doesn't hurt himself (well, maybe it is more of a collapse to the floor than a real fall), but I'm going to have to insist soon. My plan is to get him to use them for brief outside walks first, then back and forth exercise hallway walks in the house, then finally for everytime use. I understand that the walker represents another loss of ability that he resents, so I don't want to just say "every time, NOW"! It wouldn't work.
At least he maintains a healthy appetite. And nutritionally, he is probably better off than anytime before in his life. I don't say that lightly. HIS Mom was a very good cook and MY Mom was a good cook, but neither of them had any idea of "balanced meals" (his idea of properly-cooked vegetables are "boiled to death". Gramma might have made GREAT chicken and dumplings, but that doesn't make a balanced meal. Mom provided vegetables with each meal, but that's where his idea of "boiled to death" vegetables came from. Heck, I never knew veggies could be cooked less than "mushable" until I went off to college and started to learn to cook for myself and discovered "steaming".
So, for the last 2 months, Dad has been getting a lunch sandwich that has lots on lettuce and some onion along with the meat (and he LIKES them). For dinner, there is some fresh meat (usually baked or braised), a tossed salad, a potato (he insists), a green veggie and a yellow/orange veggie. He always says it is "too much" but he eats it all. I am going to try reds, like beets, next. One change at a time...
He was basically just eating hotdogs, frozen fish, bread, and ice cream before I got him up here with me. Easy to prepare in the M/V.
Still, I know I'm just sticking a finger in the dike. Things will get worse. He will REALLY start falling, will lose appetite, REALLY not sleep (or sleep much of the day), have routine audio and visual hallucinations. His conversation already makes little sense SOMETIMES, one day it will make no sense MOST of the time...
A part of me wants to observe this carefully so that I have a better understanding of what is to come for me. But I'm not sure how useful such knowledge would be. When that time comes, I won't remember these days.
Que sera, sera...
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Living With Dad, 11
Mail time is ambiguous here. Mail addressed to Dad keeps him occupied for an hour. But afterwards, it keeps ME occupied for a couple hours explaining it to him. Most of his mail is irrelevant (monthly investment statements, some is true junk, but some is important. I won't filter his mail [well, I trash some donation requests that hit him up for more money every month just because he gave them money the previous month; he thinks the requests from the fire and police departments are "bills" and they are taking advantage of his confusion].
But it's the legitimate documents that cause the hardest problems. Monthly bank statements, investment statements, actual bills for services to the previous FL house... It can take an hour per bank statement, a half hour to pay a single bill, and something like a property tax bill is good for a day (because he wants to ask really odd questions that have obvious answers to ME but he doesn't understand).
Dad has resigned himself to accepting my "novel idea" of filing folders by subject ("water". "electric", "property tax", etc), bank names, investment company names, property locations, mainly because I simply went and DID IT one weekend. He still doesn't understand it, but then, he can't recall the names of his electric or water company, so generic is the only choice...
So I've taken over the organization of his records. I had little choice. He had them all by month (sort of) and couldn't find anything. When he first had his duffel bag, briefcase, and two fat folders of documents, I asked him to find his birth certificate, It took him 2 hours. Now there is a file for that. And of course, files for about everything else.
Today was the 4th or 5th time I've shown him the file folders I made "for the first time" to his mind. I'm getting used to the idea that some things are new to him every time I mention them. Well, maybe I should say "getting resigned to the idea". I'm still always surprised by what he forgets from even one day to the next.
I do want readers to understand that I do not take this lightly. Sometimes with a bit of tolerant humor (beats crying out loud), but never "lightly". I understand that Dad's present is my future... It doesn't look like a lot of fun. Mine may be worse. Dad has me (and 2 other children and some grandchildren. I don't. When I, and my brother and sister, are Dad's age, they will have adult children but I will only have nieces and a nephew. Adults don't take care of Uncles like they do Parents. I better hope for some major medical or technological advances (like mind transplants to robots). Or I am going to have to just go to sleep on the deck some Winter night and not wake up.
Today's odd moments: Dad received junk mail from some investment firm, and assumed that meant he had an account with them. He couldn't figure out how to fill out the enrollment form (since he assumed he was already enrolled). I had to go through all the files, one by one, to show him there wasn't a file for that company. Then HE had to go through all the unsorted junk in his briefcase searching for a reference to that company.
THEN he decided maybe he should take cash out of savings and invest with them. So I had to spend a half hour reminding him that he just cashed in some decent CDs in order to have "cash on hand" for medical emergencies, so he shouldn't make new investments. Its tiring, and I can't get anything useful done around the house while he is fussing about this kind of stuff.
I should filter his mail, but I can't get myself to do that yet. He has a right to open and read it; it is my responsibility to guide him in deciding what to do. But I will probably have to do that soon. His memory for even simple daily things is going.
Multiple odd events: Tonight, he couldn't remember how to make a martini, his several nightly drinks for decades. I knew, though I never liked a martini in my life. His is equal shot gin and dry vermouth in a small juice glass, over ice. Doesn't seem like the James Bond martini, but whatever he likes is his business. I took a spoonful of one a week ago; it was HORRIBLE! I like my self-named Cavebear Slings (shot gin, shot Pomegranate Liquor, 2 shots real pomegranate juice over ice, fill with ginger ale). If you like fruit-oriented drinks, try it.
But he couldn't remember how to make the drink he has liked for 60 years!
Another odd event was that I put his tossed salad on the table (I always make a tossed salad). He asked if I had put gravy on the salad (yeah, he confuses words like gravy and dressing, and sometimes he says "sauce"). Anyone would look at it and know I hadn't, but he can't think of doing that these days. That's a bad sign. On the other hand, at least when he uses the wrong word for something, it is a related word. It would be worse if he had asked if I added "marbles" to the salad.
And I'm not relating these confusions on his part to make fun. It's serious. I'm writing about this so that I have a record of them. I need to understand where his memory is failing and where it is still functioning. Partly, I want a dated record of such confusions, but mostly so that I can understand where I can trust his memory and where I can't.
That matters because I don't have the best memory in the world. I never have. Do you recall math and science classes in high school where you mostly memorized formulas and diagrams to use them on tests and then mostly forgot them afterwards? I could never remember the formulas. I had to mostly figure them out each time from scratch and a few recollections. I got "Bs" in spite of that. I'm also not very good at remembering names or what I said in the previous email. I remember faces very well. I can pass someone and know that I "know" them. No name comes to mind though...
I bet my memory is worse than Dad's before I am his age. I see it coming...
So I am probably going to lose my memory sooner than Dad. That's scary, but probably inevitable.
But it's the legitimate documents that cause the hardest problems. Monthly bank statements, investment statements, actual bills for services to the previous FL house... It can take an hour per bank statement, a half hour to pay a single bill, and something like a property tax bill is good for a day (because he wants to ask really odd questions that have obvious answers to ME but he doesn't understand).
Dad has resigned himself to accepting my "novel idea" of filing folders by subject ("water". "electric", "property tax", etc), bank names, investment company names, property locations, mainly because I simply went and DID IT one weekend. He still doesn't understand it, but then, he can't recall the names of his electric or water company, so generic is the only choice...
So I've taken over the organization of his records. I had little choice. He had them all by month (sort of) and couldn't find anything. When he first had his duffel bag, briefcase, and two fat folders of documents, I asked him to find his birth certificate, It took him 2 hours. Now there is a file for that. And of course, files for about everything else.
Today was the 4th or 5th time I've shown him the file folders I made "for the first time" to his mind. I'm getting used to the idea that some things are new to him every time I mention them. Well, maybe I should say "getting resigned to the idea". I'm still always surprised by what he forgets from even one day to the next.
I do want readers to understand that I do not take this lightly. Sometimes with a bit of tolerant humor (beats crying out loud), but never "lightly". I understand that Dad's present is my future... It doesn't look like a lot of fun. Mine may be worse. Dad has me (and 2 other children and some grandchildren. I don't. When I, and my brother and sister, are Dad's age, they will have adult children but I will only have nieces and a nephew. Adults don't take care of Uncles like they do Parents. I better hope for some major medical or technological advances (like mind transplants to robots). Or I am going to have to just go to sleep on the deck some Winter night and not wake up.
Today's odd moments: Dad received junk mail from some investment firm, and assumed that meant he had an account with them. He couldn't figure out how to fill out the enrollment form (since he assumed he was already enrolled). I had to go through all the files, one by one, to show him there wasn't a file for that company. Then HE had to go through all the unsorted junk in his briefcase searching for a reference to that company.
THEN he decided maybe he should take cash out of savings and invest with them. So I had to spend a half hour reminding him that he just cashed in some decent CDs in order to have "cash on hand" for medical emergencies, so he shouldn't make new investments. Its tiring, and I can't get anything useful done around the house while he is fussing about this kind of stuff.
I should filter his mail, but I can't get myself to do that yet. He has a right to open and read it; it is my responsibility to guide him in deciding what to do. But I will probably have to do that soon. His memory for even simple daily things is going.
Multiple odd events: Tonight, he couldn't remember how to make a martini, his several nightly drinks for decades. I knew, though I never liked a martini in my life. His is equal shot gin and dry vermouth in a small juice glass, over ice. Doesn't seem like the James Bond martini, but whatever he likes is his business. I took a spoonful of one a week ago; it was HORRIBLE! I like my self-named Cavebear Slings (shot gin, shot Pomegranate Liquor, 2 shots real pomegranate juice over ice, fill with ginger ale). If you like fruit-oriented drinks, try it.
But he couldn't remember how to make the drink he has liked for 60 years!
Another odd event was that I put his tossed salad on the table (I always make a tossed salad). He asked if I had put gravy on the salad (yeah, he confuses words like gravy and dressing, and sometimes he says "sauce"). Anyone would look at it and know I hadn't, but he can't think of doing that these days. That's a bad sign. On the other hand, at least when he uses the wrong word for something, it is a related word. It would be worse if he had asked if I added "marbles" to the salad.
And I'm not relating these confusions on his part to make fun. It's serious. I'm writing about this so that I have a record of them. I need to understand where his memory is failing and where it is still functioning. Partly, I want a dated record of such confusions, but mostly so that I can understand where I can trust his memory and where I can't.
That matters because I don't have the best memory in the world. I never have. Do you recall math and science classes in high school where you mostly memorized formulas and diagrams to use them on tests and then mostly forgot them afterwards? I could never remember the formulas. I had to mostly figure them out each time from scratch and a few recollections. I got "Bs" in spite of that. I'm also not very good at remembering names or what I said in the previous email. I remember faces very well. I can pass someone and know that I "know" them. No name comes to mind though...
I bet my memory is worse than Dad's before I am his age. I see it coming...
So I am probably going to lose my memory sooner than Dad. That's scary, but probably inevitable.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
The Cat Blog Reaches 2,000 posts!
When I started the cat blog in August 2006, the few cat blogs I knew of were "old". As in, they had been blogging for a couple of years while I read in admiration. Well, after I retired in 2006, I saw a button on one cat blog that said "Click here to start a blog for free".
I clicked...
I didn't know how to write from my cats' point of view. At first, the fence was a wall, the glass deck door was a wall, the inside doors were walls, and the walls were walls. They weren't sure what to call the house, etc. I ended up "The Big Thing" only because I figured the cats weren't really sure what I was, but that I was BIG by comparison to them.
They slowly learned about the house and yard, but they never changed my name. That's OK, I always HAVE been "The Big Thing" to all the cats. It fits OK. I never quite felt like "Dad" to them. Its fine for other cats to have Mom or Dad, but I never thought that MINE thought I was their Dad.
I expect I am a bit of a mystery to them. A large rather clumsy stompy creature who has no furs worth mentioning, but who has nearly magical powers over food and litterboxes and doors to the outside.
I would love to know what they REALLY think (because they surely DO think). I don't mean they think like you and I do. There are things they will never quite be aware of, like their own mortality.
I am sometimes far too aware of theirs. Skeeter and LC started the blog, and it really didn't occur to me that they would die. Or at least, soon. I knew they were mortal, of course, but they were so healthy when I started the blog, it seemed they would be around a long time.
Skeeter died just over 2 years into blogging. It was a shock thinking back just the 2 years, but not when it happened. I knew he was dying for months. The vet told me he would be fine until he started to fall over. When he did, it was the saddest day of my life.
LC followed him in only 13 months. She was fine one night, and dead the next morning. The vet said it was a massive infection. I saw no signs of it.
LC was Skeeter's cat. Skeeter was mine. I have never had a "bad" cat, but Skeeter was special. He is my heart cat and always will be. I miss LC. She was the quiet kind of cat. Have you ever seen "The Man Who Planted Trees"? There was a dog there. Never fawning, friendly, always quiet in dignity. That was LC. She was never a lap cat, but in her last couple of days, she came up on my lap and napped there. Maybe she knew, maybe she didn't, but those were precious memories afterwards.
I have never been one to stay without cats. I don't mean, of course, that I want any to leave, but I have space in my live for several and there are so many needing space. I got Ayla shortly after Skeeter died...
All cats are good, but I had always wanted a female siamese and they are not available on most streetcorners. I looked up breeders and made a ridiculous offer. A ridiculous situation occurred. A breeder had a female too small to breed. I got Ayla for $100 because she wasn't good for breeding. But she was perfect for me.
The cost is meaningless. You spend more just in initial exams and shots. I don't actually pay any attention to initial cost anymore. Ayla was a joy. Except she kept going into heat after bein spayed (by the breeders vet). Once, then twice... For 2 years. Finally, she got an infection and MY vet found she had ladygarden parts still in there. Since then, she has been a wonderful kitty.
Iza came after Ayla and right after LC. Ayla couldn't be alone. Iza was sold as a registered siamese, but she is really a Tonkinese with siamese colors. Its obvious now that I've learned about Tonks. Iza is the stereotypical Tonk. Heavy-bodied, short-tailed, broad-chested, smudgy siamese colors, but also amazingly loyal, affectionate, and hard-playful. You should SEE her dedication to attacking toy mice!
But Ayla and Iza slowly got annoyed with each other. Not fights, but little hissy-fits, and the house was not RIGHT! I needed a cure.
It seems silly to say that because Skeeter was a calmer-down cat and he was an orange/white male cat, that another one would be the same. But I looked for one anyway. Everyone I found at cat shelters came in pairs (ONLY after I liked one of them). After that happened the third time, I ignored the shelters. I felt sorry for the cats, but what I DIDN'T want was 2 attached to each other. I needed one cat.
I found the one orange/white male cat with help from blog friends. He was promised to a family, but I convinced the owner I was the best place. When I went to pick him up, he was staring at me from the stairs. I sat down on the floor and folded my legs up, he came right down and settled on my lap.
I chose him somewhat, but HE really chose ME! The Lady was surprised, but I wasn't. I knew the moment I saw him, that he belonged with me. He was so perfect that I didn't even change his name! And coming from years of thinking hard about the right names for cats, that means something. He was indeed "Marley". He had the right name the moment I met him.
Ayla and Iza were named for characters in 'Clan of the Cave Bear" books, and I expected to name a male cat "Creb". But Marley was "Marley". Maybe there will be a Creb or Jondalar in the future, but not now. Marley is Marley, its in his genes.
And Marley has accepted the role I hoped for. He immediately came between Ayla and Iza in a calm laid-back way and the hissy-fits stopped immediately.
Its hard sometimes not to call him Skeeter. I forget. But when I do, I make sure to hold him and say Marley, Marley, Marley. I mostly remember, of course, but no one is perfect. Interestingly, that has only happened since Dad moved in. The last time Dad was here, Skeeter was here. And Dad makes me think of previous times. So at night, when Marley crawls onto the bed to nap in the early morning hours (where he sleeps in the other hours is a mystery - when I've gone looking, he just shows up awake and walking) I just keep saying "Marley, Marley, Marley" and he purrs lovingly in my arms or feet.
There will come a day when Marley goes over the Bridge. Probably 13, 14 years from now, but there WILL come that day. I wonder what Skeeter and Marley will say about me between themselves? Taht I couldn't tell them apart? Or that I thought they were BOTH the best cats ever and they were so alike that I loved them both the same at the end?
I don't know now. Ayla, Iza, and Marley are ALL wonderful cats in their own special ways. Ayla is sweet like a sugarplum. Marley is kindest most tolerant cat I've ever known. Iza is so ME-oriented it is amazing.
I loved Ralph, Sport, Ballou, Mischief, and Tinkerbelle before these. Am I just forgetting how much I loved them in favor of the current ones as the years have gone by? If I could have Ballou back again for a week, would I think, wow, "she's the best"?
I'll never know. I just wish I could have ALL of them back again. No contest, no favorites. All those old grey tabbies against all the newer fancier cats. But I DO know I would like them all back on my lap again in turns so that I could tell each one again how much I loved them. And how much they enriched my life...
I clicked...
I didn't know how to write from my cats' point of view. At first, the fence was a wall, the glass deck door was a wall, the inside doors were walls, and the walls were walls. They weren't sure what to call the house, etc. I ended up "The Big Thing" only because I figured the cats weren't really sure what I was, but that I was BIG by comparison to them.
They slowly learned about the house and yard, but they never changed my name. That's OK, I always HAVE been "The Big Thing" to all the cats. It fits OK. I never quite felt like "Dad" to them. Its fine for other cats to have Mom or Dad, but I never thought that MINE thought I was their Dad.
I expect I am a bit of a mystery to them. A large rather clumsy stompy creature who has no furs worth mentioning, but who has nearly magical powers over food and litterboxes and doors to the outside.
I would love to know what they REALLY think (because they surely DO think). I don't mean they think like you and I do. There are things they will never quite be aware of, like their own mortality.
I am sometimes far too aware of theirs. Skeeter and LC started the blog, and it really didn't occur to me that they would die. Or at least, soon. I knew they were mortal, of course, but they were so healthy when I started the blog, it seemed they would be around a long time.
Skeeter died just over 2 years into blogging. It was a shock thinking back just the 2 years, but not when it happened. I knew he was dying for months. The vet told me he would be fine until he started to fall over. When he did, it was the saddest day of my life.
LC followed him in only 13 months. She was fine one night, and dead the next morning. The vet said it was a massive infection. I saw no signs of it.
LC was Skeeter's cat. Skeeter was mine. I have never had a "bad" cat, but Skeeter was special. He is my heart cat and always will be. I miss LC. She was the quiet kind of cat. Have you ever seen "The Man Who Planted Trees"? There was a dog there. Never fawning, friendly, always quiet in dignity. That was LC. She was never a lap cat, but in her last couple of days, she came up on my lap and napped there. Maybe she knew, maybe she didn't, but those were precious memories afterwards.
I have never been one to stay without cats. I don't mean, of course, that I want any to leave, but I have space in my live for several and there are so many needing space. I got Ayla shortly after Skeeter died...
All cats are good, but I had always wanted a female siamese and they are not available on most streetcorners. I looked up breeders and made a ridiculous offer. A ridiculous situation occurred. A breeder had a female too small to breed. I got Ayla for $100 because she wasn't good for breeding. But she was perfect for me.
The cost is meaningless. You spend more just in initial exams and shots. I don't actually pay any attention to initial cost anymore. Ayla was a joy. Except she kept going into heat after bein spayed (by the breeders vet). Once, then twice... For 2 years. Finally, she got an infection and MY vet found she had ladygarden parts still in there. Since then, she has been a wonderful kitty.
Iza came after Ayla and right after LC. Ayla couldn't be alone. Iza was sold as a registered siamese, but she is really a Tonkinese with siamese colors. Its obvious now that I've learned about Tonks. Iza is the stereotypical Tonk. Heavy-bodied, short-tailed, broad-chested, smudgy siamese colors, but also amazingly loyal, affectionate, and hard-playful. You should SEE her dedication to attacking toy mice!
But Ayla and Iza slowly got annoyed with each other. Not fights, but little hissy-fits, and the house was not RIGHT! I needed a cure.
It seems silly to say that because Skeeter was a calmer-down cat and he was an orange/white male cat, that another one would be the same. But I looked for one anyway. Everyone I found at cat shelters came in pairs (ONLY after I liked one of them). After that happened the third time, I ignored the shelters. I felt sorry for the cats, but what I DIDN'T want was 2 attached to each other. I needed one cat.
I found the one orange/white male cat with help from blog friends. He was promised to a family, but I convinced the owner I was the best place. When I went to pick him up, he was staring at me from the stairs. I sat down on the floor and folded my legs up, he came right down and settled on my lap.
I chose him somewhat, but HE really chose ME! The Lady was surprised, but I wasn't. I knew the moment I saw him, that he belonged with me. He was so perfect that I didn't even change his name! And coming from years of thinking hard about the right names for cats, that means something. He was indeed "Marley". He had the right name the moment I met him.
Ayla and Iza were named for characters in 'Clan of the Cave Bear" books, and I expected to name a male cat "Creb". But Marley was "Marley". Maybe there will be a Creb or Jondalar in the future, but not now. Marley is Marley, its in his genes.
And Marley has accepted the role I hoped for. He immediately came between Ayla and Iza in a calm laid-back way and the hissy-fits stopped immediately.
Its hard sometimes not to call him Skeeter. I forget. But when I do, I make sure to hold him and say Marley, Marley, Marley. I mostly remember, of course, but no one is perfect. Interestingly, that has only happened since Dad moved in. The last time Dad was here, Skeeter was here. And Dad makes me think of previous times. So at night, when Marley crawls onto the bed to nap in the early morning hours (where he sleeps in the other hours is a mystery - when I've gone looking, he just shows up awake and walking) I just keep saying "Marley, Marley, Marley" and he purrs lovingly in my arms or feet.
There will come a day when Marley goes over the Bridge. Probably 13, 14 years from now, but there WILL come that day. I wonder what Skeeter and Marley will say about me between themselves? Taht I couldn't tell them apart? Or that I thought they were BOTH the best cats ever and they were so alike that I loved them both the same at the end?
I don't know now. Ayla, Iza, and Marley are ALL wonderful cats in their own special ways. Ayla is sweet like a sugarplum. Marley is kindest most tolerant cat I've ever known. Iza is so ME-oriented it is amazing.
I loved Ralph, Sport, Ballou, Mischief, and Tinkerbelle before these. Am I just forgetting how much I loved them in favor of the current ones as the years have gone by? If I could have Ballou back again for a week, would I think, wow, "she's the best"?
I'll never know. I just wish I could have ALL of them back again. No contest, no favorites. All those old grey tabbies against all the newer fancier cats. But I DO know I would like them all back on my lap again in turns so that I could tell each one again how much I loved them. And how much they enriched my life...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Daffodils, Trash, And Old Electronics
I finally got about 3/4 of the daffodils planted. I have a front yard island bed surrounding the Saucer Magnolia tree and a 3' boulder ...
