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Tomorrow I take Lady Jane Grey to the vet again. She will be retested for Feline Leukemia, checked to see if she's pregnant, have a lump looked at, and be given vaccinations if she is healthy enough. And while I am reasonably confident that all will be fine, I wanted to talk about the happy things, just in case the news tomorrow is dire. I don't want them to be lost if I'm faced with Drama.
She always calls to me when I enter the front rooms. She usually jumps up on the sofa with a very expectant air. "You, pet me," she says. She's still eating a great deal, although she may have slowed down just a wee bit. She purrs more and louder than she used to, although I hear the harmonic trill a wee bit less often.
It's been well over a week since she bit me. She seems very, very anxious to please, which is unusual in a cat. She has lately been into being petted very intensely for about ten minutes, a little less maybe, and the she leaves. I think she's trying to exercise self-control, so that she doesn't get so over-stimulated she bites me. She seems to care about that a lot. I now have belly privileges, although I'm very careful with them. But I am allowed to pet her belly, now, and she seems to enjoy it. Yesterday, she carefully touched my hand with her teeth; you couldn't really call it a bite. Then she looked at me anxiously, as if to check to see if it was ok. I assured her she was fine. She seemed satisfied with that. She still really likes the ear openings petted, and her chin. She sits on the couch next to me for long periods of time, just being companionable. Sometimes she kneads my side, purring. She's very, very floofy, and her tail is extra floofy.
I have yet to find her on the coffee table or the dining room table, I think that in a previous life someone explained to her that tables are not for cats. She is in her chair-fort less and less often when I come in. Often, she's sitting on one of the chairs in the dining room, looking very queenly. She has a tiny, squeaky meow, which cracks me up. She's growing into her paws, but they remain a bit outsized.
She's a cheerful soul, and pushy. If I don't sit down right away to pet her, she nags. She also rolls about extravagantly, and tends to make it difficult to sit down to pet her because she's busy rolling around and getting in the way. She likes digging in her litter box, and I have to sweep up every day. She loves cat nip. She still claws at the furniture, but when I tell her to stop, she looks confused and sad. She so very much wants to please.
The plan for tomorrow is to take her to the vet, return, and drink mimosas. Champagne already purchased for this plan. Orange juice left over from last week is in the fridge. Hopefully, I will be celebrating, not faced with dire decisions. Dear, sweet Bast, look out after your Lady Jane Grey.
She always calls to me when I enter the front rooms. She usually jumps up on the sofa with a very expectant air. "You, pet me," she says. She's still eating a great deal, although she may have slowed down just a wee bit. She purrs more and louder than she used to, although I hear the harmonic trill a wee bit less often.
It's been well over a week since she bit me. She seems very, very anxious to please, which is unusual in a cat. She has lately been into being petted very intensely for about ten minutes, a little less maybe, and the she leaves. I think she's trying to exercise self-control, so that she doesn't get so over-stimulated she bites me. She seems to care about that a lot. I now have belly privileges, although I'm very careful with them. But I am allowed to pet her belly, now, and she seems to enjoy it. Yesterday, she carefully touched my hand with her teeth; you couldn't really call it a bite. Then she looked at me anxiously, as if to check to see if it was ok. I assured her she was fine. She seemed satisfied with that. She still really likes the ear openings petted, and her chin. She sits on the couch next to me for long periods of time, just being companionable. Sometimes she kneads my side, purring. She's very, very floofy, and her tail is extra floofy.
I have yet to find her on the coffee table or the dining room table, I think that in a previous life someone explained to her that tables are not for cats. She is in her chair-fort less and less often when I come in. Often, she's sitting on one of the chairs in the dining room, looking very queenly. She has a tiny, squeaky meow, which cracks me up. She's growing into her paws, but they remain a bit outsized.
She's a cheerful soul, and pushy. If I don't sit down right away to pet her, she nags. She also rolls about extravagantly, and tends to make it difficult to sit down to pet her because she's busy rolling around and getting in the way. She likes digging in her litter box, and I have to sweep up every day. She loves cat nip. She still claws at the furniture, but when I tell her to stop, she looks confused and sad. She so very much wants to please.
The plan for tomorrow is to take her to the vet, return, and drink mimosas. Champagne already purchased for this plan. Orange juice left over from last week is in the fridge. Hopefully, I will be celebrating, not faced with dire decisions. Dear, sweet Bast, look out after your Lady Jane Grey.
