FLASH FAIL

So Paul bought this kitty scratch pad thingy for Flash so she won't knead her claws on the new rugs we bought for the living room:

Obviously, Flash does not get the concept.

Wha'?

Ack Attack

Does this make my butt look big?

     

STEROIDS - PART 5 and WOO-WOO KITTY

Steroids Part 1

There is much to be cheerful about today; I am in the homestretch with my Prednisone regimen and I feel FANTASTIC!  After all the scary, frustrating days that led up to this, my lungs are clear and I am sleeping more soundly than our teenage daughter Marcy on a Saturday morning.  And I got through it all without vomiting up coffee grounds.


I would not have gotten through the ordeal without Paul and our amazing cat, Flash.  

I believe pets can tell when their humans are sick or depressed, and  Flash was extra concerned about her Momma during this ordeal.  She shadowed me constantly, to the point of being a nuisance.  But how could you stay mad at a face like this?


Flash has been a member of our family since I got her from a cat rescue shelter 15 years ago.  She is an extraordinary creature; among her many enduring features, she is polydactyl and has six toes on each front paw instead of the usual four.  Polydactyl cats were brought from Europe to the U.S. by the Puritans and as a result, they are usually only found in New England.

Flash has what look like opposable thumbs on each paw, and she uses them in that capacity with great dexterity.  She wraps them around her favorite toys as she bites and bats them with her hind legs.  These claws also enhance her value as a top-notch mouser.  When the weather gets cold, Flash will occasionally leave a present for me on the floor by my side of the bed -- a nicely rigor mortised mouse.  What a great treat it is to wake up on a chilly morning and step on a tiny, furry corpse.

Flash works hard at looking beautiful -- it's a full-time job -- and she has mastered the fine art of posing for her humans' entertainment.  Here Flash displays the Turkey Butt Kitty pose where she makes herself look like an oven-stuffer roaster:

  
Here is the frightening Don't Mess With Me/I Will Eat You Leer of Death; watch out Bela Lugosi:

Like all cats, when it comes to snoozing, Flash has many poses in her repertoire including the I Have a Dream pose:

and the I'm Too Cute For Words pose (which is extra effective when performed next to a sleeping Marcy):

One of our nicknames for Flash is Woo-Woo Kitty.  She earned this title from midnight ravings that sometimes take hold of her.  It goes something like this:  Paul and I will be lying in bed when all of a sudden we'll hear Flash galloping from one end of the house to the other.  She comes to a screeching halt at our bedroom door, then stares wild-eyed at some thing hovering over our heads that can only be seen by cats (we call them greeblings.)  Next she pins her ears back on her head, arches up like a Halloween cat, and jumps simultaneously backward and sideways before spinning around and racing back to the other end of the house.  Evidently, Woo-Wooing takes a lot out of you because she'll do this for a few more rounds before she gets so exhausted that she jumps onto our bed and goes into a deep slumber.

We are not privy to the reasoning behind this behavior -- it simply must be done.  

Unfortunately, getting photos of Flash in full Woo-Woo mode has eluded me.  We never know when it will happen next (I think it has something to do with a full moon), and I'm usually at the brink of sleep when she commences flight.  But some day, when she least expects it, I'll be waiting in bed with my Leica. . .

Steroids Part 6

STEROIDS - PART 2

Steroids - Part 1

1:15 a.m.  Well, I tried, but sleep is a no go.  I wake up coughing, but it’s less severe than it has been.  I am also soaked in sweat, but how can this be?  It’s 40 degrees out, I’ve got the window wide open, the ceiling fan on low, and another small fan pointed right at me.  I’m having flashbacks to menopause.  I throw off my blankets and look over at Paul who’s wrapped up in three heavy blankets like a mummy.  I take one of many trips to the bathroom then try to go back to sleep.

2:30 a.m.  Still wide awake.  I’m sweating again.  Another trip to the bathroom.  I want to watch TV because that usually puts me to sleep, but where’s the bloody remote?  Our cat, Flash (a.k.a. Flashish, Woo-Woo Kitty), curls up next to me.  She’s like a heat-seeking missile and finds the torrent of heat emanating from my body to her liking.

3:45 a.m.  Still awake.  One of the neighborhood skunks has decided to forage in our backyard and his aroma is wafting through the open window.  Is my sense of smell heightened too?  Paul’s still mummified and snoring away.  I hate him right now.

4:30 a.m.  I actually fall asleep for awhile, but wake up again coughing and soaked in sweat.  Could somebody please shoot me?

10:00 a.m.  After a few minor coughing spells and constantly pulling blankets off then pulling them back on, I managed to finally get some sleep.  I get up, make myself some oatmeal, and swallow my six tablets.

*****

While battling this cold, I have struggled to complete my assignments for the two classes I’m taking at Harvard Extension School this semester:

Blogging and The Vampire in Literature and Film.  It’s hard to be creative when you feel so rotten, but somehow I managed to write my blogs.  In my Vampire class, we have to read a novel a week, which means I’ve got my nose planted in a book at all times.

So far I've read Sheridan LeFanu's Carmilla, John Polidori's The Vampyre, Bram Stoker’s Dracula and Laurell K. Hamilton’s Guilty Pleasures.  The books are fascinating, and reading about the undead seems very apropos under the circumstances.


Next on the reading list is Lord of the Dead by Tom Holland.  This should be an interesting exercise, considering that the Prednisone has altered my vision.

Steroids - Part 3