Wisdom and whimsy in moderate doses
Bearcat became paranoid by a rustling plastic bag that I picked up off the floor. My conversation with the cat: Me: “Are you afraid it’s going to get you?” Bear: Wide-eyed panic. Me: “Is it the bag? The sound? The rhythm? Is the rhythm going to get you?” Bear: Runs away. So it must be… Continue reading Warn Gloria: The rhythm is coming
Survived two deadly pre-dawn Bear attacks. Began to wonder if new medicine is making Bear homicidal. Drove to my mother’s. Helped her start to clean out the garage. Found four of my old coin banks. Reclaimed my fortune — at least $5. Dug through 1860 Census records.
Several Bear attacks. Mailed taxes. Chiropractic appointment. Killer headache. More Bear attacks — there was blood. “Chuck” marathon. Blog maintenance (sorry, not this one). Laundry.
The Bear has been sick. She hasn’t been eating much, she’s been pukey, she’s been pulling her own hair out, she’s been lethargic. She has felt so poorly that she’s spent most of her waking hours snuggled up against me. Not attacking. That is truly unusual. So on Monday we went to the vet. My… Continue reading Sick cats are no fun
Bearcat likes to type, but it’s never in English. I’ve caught her trying to instant message people. Usually, I think she’s swearing in some secret cat language. This time, I’m pretty sure she’s judging what I was trying to write in my self-evaluation for work.