If the pain is really bad I will snuggle up with him and purr...
I have been watching over Ham as he recovers from total lower leg skin and flap graft surgery. It has been since March that I have sat or slept with him through pain and bandages. If the pain is really bad I will snuggle up with him and purr (my purr according to HAM sounds like a bird chirping). He really talks to me when he can’t stand the sight of others. I guess bad pain makes for poor friendships. But he treats me like the QUEEN of the house (rightly SO).
KEYS had surgery last spring and was down and out. She belongs to Tweetie, so I can only nestle in the TV chair with Keys or down by her feet in bed. Tweetie sticks really close to Keys and licks her face and neck when she is hurting after surgeries (she has had, like, 36 trips under-the-blade), so Tweetie is pretty good to her.
Tristan takes turns socialising more than nursing. He just comes and visits. He likes to talk and tussle under the covers with the sick and invalid. He wants everyone’s spirit to be as happy as his is. Tristan never ever has a bad or moody day. The wound nurses that have to do terrible things to Ham’s legs every day are Tristan’s adoration society.
He waits each morning (when Ham gets out all his bandages, torture-tools, and wound sprays) at the front windows and runs to the door to greet the nurses. He really likes two (2); Dian and Jean. He has to wait for the re-bandaging of Ham’s legs to get the attention he so rightfully deserves and to give out head-butts and licks. Tristan just can’t leave Jean and Dian alone. He tries while they are working on Ham’s legs not to bother but does seem to bite their feet and insist during paper work to sit on them or rub-lick-kiss and lean on... Jean (his favourite)
He soft mouths, tooths and gets that funny inner eyelid eye look. “Kinda gone GAGA.‛‛. Now there are a couple of nurses (unnamed) he and I do not like at all and we won’t be bothered with the likes of them and according to Keys, we are right.
Summer brings such fun things: flies; small ones, middle size green ones, blue bigger ones and those great big jumbo slow flying black ones; spiders; Daddy long legs, little house spiders, those hunter-chaser middle size spiders that I find in the house plants and under the kitchen work table. Ants, those spicy little things - I eat ‘em one at a time along with Tweety.
Now about flies; because where we live a lot of the cats have feline leukaemia and some other awful diseases, cats are not allowed to be out. So, we are house cats. But flies come in. We think of them as little birds, or fun-on-the-wing. With Keys and Ham semi-indisposed, we have managed to take over the no-cats-land of every horizontal and vertical surface. And as they say out WEST in the USA‚ we is hell bent on leather ‘gonna get them critters‛.
Now I am very good at getting them on windows, ledges, tables, and so is Tweetie. Tristan excels at the air-jump-two-paw-in-the-air-snatch and eat - before hitting the ground manoeuvre. He can crunch a big black fly with gusto. Sometimes he kinda, ‘wings ‘em’ and then lets them fly in circles on the kitchen floor. A little whack here, a little whack there = >fun>fun>fun. I and Tweetie can catch the low flyers and smash on the floor before dining but Tristan can jump over 5 feet in the air with a pretty good success rate, I’d say close to 30%. Ham is not appreciative of cat kisses after fly time!!
What gives??? Home-grown catnip has been superb this year and I do so enjoy my relaxing with it.
Tigger is not doing much better, more meds, more water injections. Old is not for the weak. Dr. Grant and Donna are keeping him going but only as long as he sits in the sun, plays with me, eats cat grass and catnip, fish broth and the slimy stuff out of cat food cans, he will be here. I now clean him up most of the time. I do not like smelly ears or rears. Of course, all of us went to the vets with him.
SHOTS -- I GOT SHOTS. That cute Donna and Dr. Grant gave me SHOTS. Then they tell Keys and Ham that I have juvenile gingivitis!! Pills and tooth brushing are a daily occurrence now. I and Tigger get to go back on the 18th of August for rechecks. <thinks: I sure hope Tigger does not get to sit on the mantle with his brother YUMMY.> Say, I weighed more than Tigger and Tristan. Keys laughed and said ‘see BUTTERBALL is a good nick-name or 2nd name.’
One more thing, before I depart to catch a big spider under the table (hunter - no web), I have had enough of all the tom-foolery that goes on around here. Tristan playing MISTER BIG SHOT and Tweetie being a bitch to me. So, I have kicked ass and taken names. Tristan can wear the pants in this family, I’ll just choose the style and colour or I’ll kick his ass and Tweetie’s too, for good measure, until they understand who the matriarch of this household is.
That’s ME! ME, GLORIOUS ME, NOTHING QUITE LIKE IT - BUT THE ENJOYMENT OF ME. ME-ME-GLORIOUS ME. I am special! WELL I AM.
I can flip you over just like Tweets and Tristan. A little catowing is in order!! Well I am not a cow (kowtowing)
Ta Ta to all,
PS: Say, will write again when the leaves fall, stay in touch. I’ll send pictures of us all and Tristan’s Jean & Dian.
Since Stormy wrote this extract from her diary back in late July, Tigger has sadly passed over to Rainbow Bridge on 1st August to join his brother, Yummy. Ham (Stormy’s food bowl attendant) has written a very moving tribute to ‘his boys’ here: