Mingo is fine. Late last night he jumped up onto his favorite landing, and I thought, Huh, he looks fine. Early this morning he got into my lap and I was able to touch and rub both legs. No flinching, no reaction at all except purring, and his eyes are clear and focused. So I called the vet and cancelled, and said if she felt that Mingo should be seen anyway, she should call and I’d come, but she didn’t so I didn’t.
Archive for News from the Homefront
Friday Catblogging: Limp
Instead of photos, today I ask for your good wishes. Mingo developed a limp a week ago Wednesday. He was fine in the morning, in the evening he was limping. I called the vet Thursday, and she said give it until Monday, it was probably just a pulled muscle.
By Saturday he’d lost a lot of weight, but the weight stabilized (he hasn’t kept losing). The fur and eyes are healthy. By Monday he was better but not perfect, and I figured, phew, out of the woods, that limp is almost gone. But it stayed almost gone and Wednesday night (a full week) I noticed he was hunching his back in a funny way, and I realized he was doing it to lift his weight off his legs. He walks steadier but with the hunch. And then he got needy, in that under the weather may I sit in your lap way that cats have.
So, Thursday I called the vet and we have an appointment for tomorrow afternoon. Please keep Mighty Mighty Mingo in your thoughts. I’ll let you know how it all turns out.
Walking on fish
Sometimes you don’t know what a dream symbol means, but you’re sure it means something.
Last night I dreamt I was walking on fish. I was walking in a stream, and it was some sort of punishment or penalty or something, that I had to take this extra walk, and the stream is very shallow; ankle-deep, and my path is all these small pebbles. I see some tiny fish swimming past (downstream) as I walk uphill, and then I realize that some of the pebbles are the bodies of the tiny fish. No, all the pebbles are really fish. I dislodge a few from the path and they’re little silver-blue fish, about an inch long and kinda fat.
I wake up thinking, That’s got to mean something.
Friday Catblogging: Waiting for the door
I just love the way he sits at the door and waits. Fanty will mewl, but Mingo just sits there, like assuming that I’ll mosey along and open it for him.
Literary Interval
I interrupt your regularly-scheduled blog for this literary interval.
I am currently reading The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett. I came to this sorta backwards, having loved Brick, and noticed that it was practically a remake of Huston’s The Maltese Falcon, and then Brick’s writer-director said his biggest influence on the film was Hammett, and there it was in the bookstore, so…
What is remarkable about this book is how fresh and modern it sounds. Sometimes I pick up an older book and I feel like I’m plodding through an earlier style of writing that doesn’t agree with me. F. Scott Fitzgerald does that to me. So does Ian Fleming, but I put up with it because it’s important to me. But Hammett is immediate, lively, and sly. He’s stylized without being overblown, he’s dialogue-heavy without being melodramatic, he’s funny but not ironic. The whole thing breezes by and it’s wonderful.
I am definitely going to read more Hammett, and also give Raymond Chandler a try.
Mythic dream
Every now and then you dream in mythology. This was very interesting. It’s a little dirty, so stop reading if you can’t handle naked body parts.
Friday Catblogging: Bookends
Anything you can do I can do cuter
You won’t believe this
So I returned Before Sunrise and got Before Sunset, and sat down to watch it tonight.
It was damaged.
Oy.
Friday Catblogging: Small spaces
One of the very first photos I kittenblogged (now there’s a formation!) was of the Gang in a basket.
Now only half a Gang fits:
» Read more..
I am a ditz
(And Roberta says, “Yes yes, we know.”)
I saw Before Sunrise on TV a few weeks ago, and I liked it enough to want to see the sequel. So I added Before Sunset to my Netflix queue.
Except I just got a notice from Netflix that Before Sunrise has shipped. Fuck. Now I know why they put numbers in the titles of sequels.
This is like the time I tried to rent Edward Scissorhands and came home with Ed Wood. Hey! Not my fault! Same director, same star, “Ed” in the title, next to each other on the alphabetical shelf. Anyone could have done it! (Although the current mix-up is worse, because I actually hadn’t seen Ed Wood, and I ended up enjoying it.) A week later, I actually came home with The Lady Eve as intended, even though All About Eve and The Three Faces of Eve were right there. It was pretty stressful, lemme tell ya.
Oy.
