My Supervisor

Normally Scout can be found acting as Studly Doright’s home office co-worker, and I have to work alone. We’ve decided she’s the head of Human Resources here at Doright Manor, and considers Studly to be more of an HR problem than I am.

Today, though, she’s been supervising my work. I’m not sure if it’s because she knows I’m coming to the end of the novel I’m writing and is trying to encourage me, or if she’s making sure I don’t slack off. Either way, she’s been sitting and staring at me for a good fifteen minutes. It’s kind of freaking me out.

Peace, people.

What Condition is YOUR Condition In?

How are you? How are you coping right now? At my house, it’s just Studly Doright, Scout (our elderly cat), and me. Currently we have toilet paper and a plan in place in case that runs out. You really don’t want to know the details of that plan.

We have food enough for at least two weeks, more if we dig into our stash of things we aren’t crazy about eating, but will if we have to. I’m not sure how we manage to buy items that we think we’ll eat, but never do. Some of it is left over from the last time the grandkids visited, but most of the unwanted foods were purchased with good intentions.

Studly is working from home with lots of help from Scout, who now makes sure he’s up and ready to head to the office around 6 a.m. Her favorite thing is helping him with conference calls. She’s probably saved the company a fortune simply by adding her occasional meow to the conversations.

I’m sort of a loner anyway, so except for the fact that now 99% of my time is spent at home all day every day, nothing much has changed. Before the pandemic, I’d go on solo expeditions looking for things to use as blog fodder.

I worry about our kids and grandkids, my brothers and their families and Studly’s mom and his siblings. Worry isn’t productive, though, so I pray for them all every day, often more than once. I hope someone out there is praying for me.

Oh, and I think about all of the bloggers I follow. If I don’t see a post from the regulars fairly often I begin to fear the worst. Please post something, even if it’s just a meme or a photo or a reassuring sentence. Let me know you’re okay. Same with those who follow me. You’re important to me.

Again I ask, how are you?

Rest In Peace, Kenny

Peace, and stay well, people.

Working from Home

Studly Doright and his co-worker, Scout, look over the day’s agenda. He says she’s taking direction fairly well, and seldom questions his judgement. She also works for room, board, and meals, so that’s a plus. Her bonus pay consists of treats on demand and an occasional scratch behind the ear.

I applied for the job, but lost out due to ergonomic and spatial constraints: I cannot arrange myself on the desk like Scout can.

Peace, and stay well, people.

I Can’t Get Up

There’s a cat sleeping on my lap.

I need to rise and shine, but I cannot do so. My legs are numb from the weight of her. In fact, it’s possible that everything from my hips down has atrophied. I’d likely topple over if I tried to stand, so for now I’m snuggled in bed with a cat on my lap.

There are far worse predicaments to be in. Maybe I’ll mediate while I’m here. Ommmm. Or call it yoga. I’ve heard of goat yoga, why not cat yoga? The Sleeping Cat Captive pose.

Peace, people.

Draft Choices

If you’re a blogger do you find that sometimes titles for blog posts pop into your head? You might not have anything in mind to write about, then, wham! I have that happen all the time, and sometimes the titles even develop into something that’s printable.

Right now I’m figuratively sitting on half a dozen titles, some I’ve attempted to flesh out with additional words, while others have remained untouched.

Here are a few titles in my draft file. Hopefully by sharing these some creative urge will strike. Otherwise, I’m going to write more about my cat’s urination habits, and I think we’ve all had enough of that. I have anyway.

Things We Mourn (I think this is going to be a poem)

Weighing In (me, talking. Earth shatttering, I know)

Life on Mars (rambling poem–it rhymes sort of)

About Your Mom (everything the grandkids need to know about my daughter, their mom)

That Song (I have no idea)

Collective Whole (A thing I thought and then forgot)

Are you a “Title” person? Does the title come first or do you add one just before you publish? I’m truly curious.

Peace, people

Advanced Bed Making for Dummies

My mom was a stickler for a well made bed. As the only girl child in her home I was judged by my ability to create precise hospital corners and deliver a perfectly smooth bedspread. Wrinkles were a no-no. I let her down. A lot.

As a mom, I was much more relaxed with my bed making rules; although, I did attempt to demonstrate the principles my mom tried to instill in me. Neither of my kids paid much attention to the lessons, though, and I didn’t think bedspreads were the hills I wanted to die on. Pick your battles, right?

Nowadays at Doright Manor, my bed making philosophy revolves around our psychotic younger cat, Patches. I call it “Layering. It’s not just for clothing anymore.”

Patches has developed the nervous habit of peeing on just about any surface that suits her when the anxiety strikes. We took her to the vet to see if there was an underlying medical reason for her bladder control issues, and she’s fit as a fiddle. The vet prescribed a special food, but it requires about eight weeks to kick in.

She also prescribed an anti-depressant that I have to rub on the inside of Patches’s ear every 12 to 24 hours. I’m afraid the lengths I have to go to to corral Patches and administer the drug are increasing her anxiety levels and aren’t doing much for mine either.

She thinks I have an ear fetish. I’m afraid she’s right.

So what does this have to do with making the bed? Twice now Patches has relieved herself on our bed necessitating the laundering of our heavy bedspread that takes forever to dry. Following the first time I added an additional layer of covering to our bed. After the second time, I realized one layer was simply not enough. Now the rule is to have at least three layers on the bed in addition to the bedspread.

This isn’t going to get me a mention in Better Homes and Gardens any time soon, now is it? And my mom would be so heartbroken. Sorry, Mom!

Oh, before you suggest I use deterrent sprays and/or calming sprays, trust me. We’ve been there; done that with multiple concoctions. Patches seems totally immune to their effects.

She does seem to be making a bit of progress, though. Knock on wood, but I haven’t detected any pee on the baseboards or behind Studly Doright’s chair in the past couple of weeks, and those were among her favorite areas to go. And this morning for the first time in ages I watched her play with one of her toys.

We’d appreciate good vibes for Patches, and for me. It now takes me longer to make and unmake my bed than it does me to shower in the morning. And that’s the truth.

Peace, people.

Don’t be fooled by the sweet face. She’s plotting her next attack.

The Cat Peed on the Tree Skirt. Again.

I cross my fingers

Every day

That there’ll be no pee

Under the Christmas tree

Or in the bath tub

Or on the Persian rug.

It’s all a crap shoot

My life now revolves

Around the wheres

And the theres

The calming formulae

And deterrent sprays

I’m a detective

For my cat’s defective

Elimination behaviors

Seek and destroy

Clean and remove

I guess it could be worse

It could be poo.

Peace, people.

Vigil Auntie Meets Ms. Kitty Claws

All great superheroes have an origin story. Peter Parker was bitten by a radioactive spider and became Spiderman. Superman was born on the dying planet of Krypton and was sent to earth by his concerned parents in an effort to save their infant son.

Then there’s Vigil Auntie who came into her powers out of necessity when confronted with the knowledge of a cabal of cats whose plan for world domination includes cornering the market on catnip and urinating on any and every surface imaginable. Vigil Auntie’s powers are legion, but primarily include the ability to find and eradicate unwelcome puddles of cat pee wherever they might be found.

Our intrepid superhero once found herself taken in by an innocent looking feline named Patches at a vulnerable time in Vigil Auntie’s schedule. Fresh from her morning shower, she noted that Patches was sweetly drowsing on a bathroom rug,

“Ah!” thought Vigil Auntie. “This would be an ideal time to apply the new medication meant to prevent Patches from peeing on stuff. I’ll just put some of the cream on my finger and place it in the fold of her ear as prescribed. She’ll never even know I’m here, and the cabal’s plot will be spoiled.”

No sooner had Vigil Auntie squeezed a dollop of cream onto her index finger than Patches opened her eyes a slit. Determined to apply the medicine, the superhero placed a calming hand onto Patches’s back but was met with a hiss.

“Now, now! I’m not going to hurt you sweet kitty,” she whispered. “Just hold still for a…wait. Dammit. Come here.”

Forgetting she was completely naked and vulnerable to attack, Vigil Auntie scooped up Patches who in the blink of an eye became the notorious villain, Ms. Kitty Claws, determined to prevent any attempt at limiting her elimination locations.

Undeterred by Ms. Kitty Claws’ whipcord speed and razor sharp talons raking across her breasts, her stomach, and her thighs, Vigil Auntie successfully applied the medication as directed.

“Take that, you foul villain!”‘she cried in triumph, allowing the cat to escape.

“Bwahaha!” laughed the cat. “You might’ve won this battle, but victory in war will be mine. And just look at the damage I inflicted. Imagine how much worse it will be when you lose!”

Reluctantly Vigil Auntie look down at her naked form. Scratches, scratches everywhere and blood dripping from her thumb.

“My sacrifice was worth it. Next time, just you wait. As God is my witness I’ll never fight naked again.”

As Ms. Kitty Claws slinked off into the hallway she was heard to say, “I should really go pee on something, but oddly enough, I don’t feel the need anymore. Curses! Foiled again!”

Peace, and nonsense, people!

Vigil Auntie

Pee Patrol

Seems like all I do lately is clean up “accidents” left by our younger cat, Patches. From the time I get out of bed in the morning I’m on constant alert for the smell (Oh, the smell!🤢) and the telltale wet spots of cat urine.

When I return to Doright Manor after a trip to the store or lunch with friends the first thing I do is patrol the entire house, spray bottle in hand, to identify and eradicate cat pee. Before we get into bed and in the middle of the night I do walk-throughs. I’m paranoid and exhausted.

Late yesterday evening, for the first time ever she relieved herself on Studly Doright’s side of the bed. Thank goodness the bedspread prevented the liquid from penetrating to the mattress, but it was a near miss. I was up late doing laundry and changing the bedding. Studly was not pleased.

So, even though she was examined for a urinary tract infection in October, Patches and I are at the vet’s again, hoping to find an answer.

Wish us both luck.

Patches is underneath the calming blanket, and is refusing requests from all paparazzi.

Peace, people.