7 January 2002

The day has not begun auspiciously. Granted, it's Monday, and one doesn't expect things to be rosy and bright, but it could definitely have been better.

See, we had a minor scare over the weekend - Friday evening, shortly after Matt got home, the cat walked out of the room, and then came back in hopping on three legs. He wouldn't put his right rear leg down at all. For an hour, he hopped from place to place, apparently trying to find a position and location that wouldn't hurt.

Matt first made an appointment for the next morning with our regular vet, then - as the cat's behavior became more distressing - we called a vet down in Newport News with extended hours, and took him in.

The vet was not very comforting. "It might be a simple soft-tissue injury," he said, "or it might be arthritis. I'm pretty sure it's not a blood clot or kidney failure, but it might be cancer." But he seemed surest that it was arthritis.

But by the time we'd gotten to the vet, Diamond had gone from hopping to limping, which we took as a sign of improvement. We watched him for the rest of the evening. We got up Saturday morning to take him to the regular vet, and it looked like he was only barely limping, only having obvious pain when he jumped.

We took him to the vet anyway, as he was long overdue for his shots. (And damn it all, I forgot to update our address on file. Yes, it's been that long.) He's lost almost two and a half pounds in the last couple of years; down now to about eight and a half. He weighed nearly thirteen pounds when I was in Blacksburg.

It worries me. Not that I think the weight loss is indicative of a specific problem - his appetite and energy levels are good - but that it's a symptom of the inevitable approach of old age. Diamond is fifteen years old, which makes him well into middle age for a cat. He's been my companion for half my life. It's going to break my heart when he dies.

And it was with that in mind that I gave in to his early-morning feeding demands all weekend.

He roused me this morning at 5:30. And I knew - knew, mind you - that it was a mistake to ignore him and go back to sleep. If I wasn't going to feed him, I should have gotten up and put him in the garage, or the bathroom.

But I'm not a morning person. And some mornings - and this was one of them - I downright resent the fact that the cat has that much power over me, to make me get up no matter what. (Not to mention the fact that Matt is entirely oblivious to the cat's early morning demands. Why should it always be me?)

And so I rolled over and went back to sleep. It was a restless sleep, mind you, punctuated by periods of startled awakening whenever the slightest noise sounded in the room - the cat, you see, gets impatient if I don't get up, and pees on things.

When the alarm went off at 6, I elbowed Matt. "Feed the cat," I told him, "before he pees on something. He's been pestering me since 5:30." Matt sighed and rolled over, but got up to feed the cat. (I watched nervously as Matt pulled on his sweatpants - any clothing left lying on the floor is a favorite target.)

I dozed another few minutes, then got up. I brushed my teeth, showered, and dried off. I went into the closet and picked out the day's clothes. Then, because I was still damp (I hate getting dressed if I'm even the slightest bit damp) I laid down on the bed to dry.

Whenever I do this - which is nearly every day - I always have the urge to crawl under the covers and go back to sleep. This morning, as I laid back against the pillows, the feeling was nearly as intense as vertigo. I closed my eyes and felt as if I were falling. I probably would actually have fallen asleep if Matt hadn't come back upstairs then to take his own shower.

I sat up and started getting dressed. I looked on my nightstand for the tube of medicated cream I have for a small, persistent rash. It wasn't on the nightstand. I'd used it just yesterday morning, though... I stood up to move things around, and nearly fell over from the vertigo that hit me.

I sat back down for a minute, then looked again. Same thing. Eventually, I found the tube under the nightstand, and finished getting dressed. I went into the closet and fished out my black loafers. Put the arch supports in them. Left foot, right foo- Cold. My shoe is wet.

And now not only the shoe, but my sock and my arch support smell like cat piss.

I ditched the shoes and put on sneakers, but there's nothing that can be done about the arch support. I only have one pair. They're plastic with a very thin foam rubber and cloth pad on top. I'm going to have to scrub the support - possibly soak it in water - and let it dry, and hope that does the trick. I'm only grateful that they're plastic and not leather. In any case, I can't do anything about it until after I get home from work.

The shoe is leather. I have no idea how to get cat pee out of a leather shoe. I can't exactly toss it in the washer. I suspect I'm going to have to just ditch that pair of shoes and buy another. Which is annoying; those were my good SAS loafers. (Though I've had them for several years and they were starting to get a little ratty, so it's only a little annoying.)

So here I am... still slightly dizzy (if I'm sitting still, it's less like vertigo and more like just being very tired, except that I'm wide awake) and smelling faintly of cat piss.

As I said - not exactly the most auspicious beginning for the day. Let's hope the trend doesn't continue.

--Liz