Shhhhhh...

 

We had to make a trip to the store - we are in the process of switching Murphy over from the prescription food he has been eating for almost two years to "over the counter" cat food.  He has been enjoying the new options, and we have been trying only a couple cans of any one flavor at a time.  If you have never had a cat in the family, you may not know the experience of "Oh, he likes this flavor"... only to stock up on that and have him decide that is the worst food possible.

So, we try a new flavor and keep track.  And make sure that there is no issue with it.  The vet, after trying a bunch of different things to cure the ear infection he had when we first got him, thought it might be a food allergy.

Little Stella seems happy with whatever kitten food we put down for her.   And, at some point during the day, they each try out the other's food.

But, right now, I have just gotten up from a short nap.  Murphy laid there with me.  He stayed on the bed when I got up.  Stella is snoozing in her catio.  Joan is watching the opening ceremonies for the Winter Olympics, with the volume quite low.  It is peaceful in the house. 

I know the cats will have renewed energy after their naps.  Let the games begin!

 

Blood Letting...

 

You donated blood, Jim?

Not willingly.  We had a vet appointment for Stella this morning - they thought she might be anemic after her spay surgery.  She is not.  But, to maintain an income flow, they (the vet) recommended with have this blood test done.  10:00 appointment this morning.

At 9:30, we started to corral her to put her in her carrier.  It did not go well...

 

That image above is one of 4 wounds she inflicted on me.  I did not get her in the carrier.  I got her to the carrier before she escaped again.  After running all around the house, she finally went into the bathroom.  Joan grabbed a small kitty blanket, went into the bathroom, and shut the door.  The screams that came from that room sounded like a much bigger animal.  Murphy and I stood on the other side of the door; Murph looked very concerned.  Joan eventually came out with something bundled in the blanket.  And put that something in the carrier.

We were 5 minutes early for the appointment - that included 20 minutes of getting Stella in the carrier.  Even though we had an appointment card, the woman at the front desk had no record of us having an appointment.  I said, "It is an absolute that this cat isn't anemic, based on her physical activity since her surgery.  If you don't have time for this today, we'll just take her home.  They weren't going to miss out on the $71 for the blood test.  They took her in back.  We waited.  About 15 minutes later, I got a phone call from the vet: "Stella's test is fine - she is not anemic."

"Great," I said, "Can we have our cat back?  We are still sitting in your waiting room."  Disorganized.  The vet brought Stella out to us.

Back home, it took more wrangling to get the bandage off Stella's back leg...

 All the kitties in this household are good for the next 11 1/2 months.

Wednesday Morning Smackdown!

 

You're watching wrestling, Jim?

Yes, but it isn't a network production; it is live in our living room.

Joan smacked you down?

Funny.  Not.

Of course, I am talking about the family felines.  Stella is comfortable in her place in the family.  She doesn't just growl whenever Murphy gets close.  She is more often the instigator in their "play time."  And by "play time," I mean: she jumps on him.  "And, they're off!"

Murphy has much more stamina.  So, the wrestling generally ends when Stella is tired.  Or, when Murphy puts her in a headlock.  

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"How's your equilibrium?"  That's Joan asking me.

"Seems good right now.  Why?"

"I was thinking about taking the scoot out for a ride."  That's Joan telling me.

"I would love to give that a try, if you'd like some company."

I gave the kitties a slightly early lunch, and we geared up.  Before heading out, I checked tires and oil on both scoots.  Good to go.

Along the way, I stopped for gas in the Burgman.  84 miles per gallon on that last tank.  On to the twisties!

I took the lead, keeping speeds moderate, but entertaining.  At the top of the mountain, we stopped to take a drink of water.  "Is this clearing your head?  You doing OK?"]

"I am good.  Tired, but good.  How's my riding?"

"You are doing fine."

A lady walking by said, "It's good to see people wearing all the proper riding gear."

I said, "That's how we roll," and then asked if she would mind taking a photo for us...

 The ride was good.  Just what I needed.  I am not 100%, but this was my first day where I truly felt better.  We had talked about taking the scoots somewhere for lunch after riding the mountain, but Joan suggested heading for home, then getting the car to go to lunch.  Yeah, a good call.  And the ride: good for the soul.

 

Worn Out...

 

Cold still got you down, Jim?  Yes, but this is something that wears me out, just from watching.

Of course, I am talking about Murphy and Stella.  She is healed and more rambunctious than ever.  I gotta give it to her - she will go after Murphy (who is more than twice her size).  He is gentle and patient, to a point.  And when he reaches that point, fur may fly.

I find myself being the unpaid referee... "Take down, Murphy, two points"... "Escape and reversal, Stella, two points"...  it goes on.  And on.  It isn't just wrestling - there is also a component of steeplechase.  And MMA.

Murph looking down from his tower...

 Stella looking up...

 More than half the time these days, she is the instigator.  Like this...

 "I couldn't help it - his tail was just asking for it!"  Situations like this lead to me refereeing.  I can send them to their separate corners, but one of them always sneaks out.  Joan and I take turns: "I have to go to the bathroom, you're on."

"I don't want to be on."

Eventually, they both wear out.  After lunch, nap time.  A temporary peace.

 

More of the same...

 

Yes, I am aware that over the counter cold meds don't "cure" a cold; at best, they lessen some of the symptoms.  I'm OK with that - slow down the flowing snot and ease the lung congestion, thank you very much.

A cold becomes a complication for someone with asthma.  I'm not playing up the "man cold" schtick - it gets in my lungs and kicks my butt.  I had to do a breathing treatment yesterday to help ease a coughing fit.  I mentioned that to my buddy Mark when he and I were coordinating music get-togethers for the month.  I told him I'm hoping to be better for next week, but to not schedule me for anything this week.

A "breathing treatment" uses asthma meds in a nebulizer which converts it to a mist - you inhale it through a tube, so it gets into your lungs and helps break up the congestion.  It doesn't get rid of the congestion, it thins it enough so you can, hopefully, cough it out on your own.

 

Consider it to be like an asthma inhaler that you breathe in for 15 to 20 minutes.  It isn't uncomfortable and it does provide relief for lung congestion, especially after you cough out the nasty stuff.  Better to get on it right away rather than let that congestion sit in there and turn into an infection.  OK, TMI once again.

So, a week into this crappy cold.  According to everything I read, I am beyond the being contagious stage, but I still have to cough frequently to keep my airways clear.  Joan's rule: if you are coughing, no going out in public.  I am sure it is not because she doesn't want to be seen with me in public.  Probably.  I get that: I remember the death stares given to anyone who coughed in public during Covid.

Asthma primarily makes it harder to breathe out due to the inflamed, narrowed airways and excess mucus - this is part of why I cough.  Or exhale sharply, which sounds like a sigh.  While exhaling is usually the main issue, the narrowed airways also make it difficult to breathe in, resulting in overall shortness of breath.

Today is the first day that I feel better than the day before, since the start of this cold.  I probably should not have written that - the "cold fairy" may bite me in the ass.  In the meantime, I am also doing the "tried and true": drinking plenty of liquids, taking naps, and having chicken noodle or turkey noodle soup.

 

Full Snow Moon...

 

Not much of a guess needed on how this full moon got its name.

 The explanation behind February’s Full Moon name is a fairly straightforward one: it’s known as the Snow Moon due to the typically heavy snowfall that occurs in February. On average, February is the United States’ snowiest month, according to data from the National Weather Service. 

Another theme of this month’s Moon names is scarcity. The Cherokee names of Month of the Bony Moon and Hungry Moon give evidence to the fact that food was hard to come by at this time. 

And how the full moon looked here in Phoenix...

 No snow here in the Phoenix area; it was 63º at 9:30 pm when I took this photo.  There is snow in Arizona this time of year, but you have to go into the mountains to the north and east part of the state to find it.  No, we're not looking to find it.  ;-)

For those interested in the specifics: full manual, f8 @ 1/1250th sec, ISO 200; telephoto zoom lens; Sony a6700 mirrorless camera.

 

A Rager...

 

informal•North American English

a wild party, typically involving the consumption of alcohol.

 

No, Joan and I did not have a party last night.  Judging by what I saw when I got up this morning, the cats did.  Beer cans and booze bottles strewn about.  Confetti everywhere.  Disco lights.

 

OK, I may be making that up.  Murphy's tower was tipped over.  The pad on the 4th level of the catio had been knocked down to the lowest level.  The cats had been rowdy during the night.

 

I think we'll all need a nap this afternoon.

 

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Getting Nekkid...

 

I've explained the difference between "naked" and "nekkid" before, but here it is again, in case you missed it: naked means you are unclothed; nekkid means you are unclothed and up to something.  Today is day ten since Stella's spay surgery; time for the pink onesie (surgical recovery suit) to come off...

 

 There is a lot of fur in need of being bathed.  Joan thinks she looks bigger now, without the pink onesie; still seems pretty scrawny to me, though she has filled out since she first came to live with us.