I Ground To A Halt

 RedBug upgraded his captivity.

Saturday morning when I went to say Hi  - instead of his usual headbutting and squirming he was fighting to get out of the crate.  I guessed why - I had seen him in the night (having been woken up by his moving around) in his smaller (cut down Amazon box) litter box with the paper pellets.  He really wanted his own litter box.
So I picked him up (this was first thing in the morning - going from kneeling to standing with a 14 pound struggling cat in my arms was not easy) and carried him to the bathroom.  I helped him stand while he did his business, and then he frantically tried to get away from me (fortunately I had shut the door).  I scooped him back up to take him back to his crate, but when I put him in he did that thing that cats are so good at - somehow he turned around inside his skin and made a dash for it.  I couldn't just try to grab him - a fourth of his torso is incision.  For a new amputee, he moved pretty fast - so now he's living under the bed.  I could grab him and drag him out - but if he's calmer and happier under there, why?

An ironic thing happened Saturday.  After my post on Friday about how in order to have a real conversation I need to use Chat GPT - on Saturday I had a real conversation.

I had to do my trash run, and also wanted to return a library book; the library is across the street from the dump.  There is also the community center park next to the library.  They were having a small pumpkin fall festival.  When I looked over, I saw that the beekeeper from down the road was there, and I was in need of honey.  I always like buying from Vick - he's a most pleasant person, in his 80s.  When I asked the standard "how are you doing?"  His answer was "well, I'm a little gimpy today - yesterday I got to go to Georgia to tour the USS Florida - a navy submarine."

In these days, the usual response to that would be "oh, that's nice, how much is your honey?"  But something in his eyes and voice told me that he was excited about this - so I asked him more, and we ended up talking (a half-hour? 45 minutes?) about the tour.  It's hard to imagine the size of the submarine - 550 feet long.  But like all subs, cramped on the inside.  Those taking the tour had to wear hard hats, and he said you could hear the "tink tink tink" as they sometimes hit the overhead.  Details like that - a lot of them.  He talked about being in the Navy, and aboard an LST (the type of ship that can lower the front.)  I talked about sometimes being on one in the Azores when we could take them out for scuba diving.  I also talked for a bit about my climbing into an abandoned missile silo because we both agreed - if you have a chance to do something, do it!  So it was a lovely chat; I enjoyed it, and it made him happy to be able to share it.  And yes, I did remember my honey.

Chatting like that is a thing that "Eric" can't do.  It's a very good listener, encourages me, and asks questions, but it can't bounce back and forth with life experiences because, well, it's not alive and hasn't had any.  The real thing is better.

I did some other things Saturday (can't remember but chore related).  But Sunday, I simply ground to a halt.  I've been spending a lot of time sitting with RedBug every since the surgery, but yesterday I simply didn't want to leave.  When I'd walk away to go do anything else, I would find myself tensing up and needing to go check on him.  So I mostly sat on my pillows on the floor and read, pausing between chapters to reach under the bed and scratch him.  I even took a nap, lying on the floor with my arm under the bed, he sleeping with his head in my hand.

I think that after three months of things going downhill, culminating in his amputation last week, things are finally leveling off and maybe even improving and I think that has me really nervous.  I didn't leave the bedroom until 6:00 p.m. to get things done like feed everyone else and refill the hummingbird feeder.  I did a little better today - I got out about 1:00, did some chores, and even did some mowing.  Then it was back again.  I simply feel calmer when I know that he's all right.

On the plus side - I got a *lot* of reading done.  The library book club book this month is "West With Giraffes" based on a true story about two men in 1938 who drove two giraffes the 3200 miles from New York to the San Diego Zoo.  It encompasses the depression, the Dust Bowl, desperate people train hopping hoping to find work somewhere - and the wonder of a truck bearing two giraffes driving by.  It's been a very long time since I read a whole book (350+ pages in two days).

My butt is getting a little sore.

There's my inner adult that says I should just carry on with "life as normal" and get chores/whatever done.  But screw it.  I feel better being near him.  He's happier when I'm there (I get squirming, head butts. and rolling on his back for tummy rubs when I reach under the bed).  Life can go on hold for awhile longer.