Forgive me dear readers for being a most ungracious blogger, I’ve been long over due for a post, but we’ve had a lot on our hands. I’m sure some of you are aware of the situation with my mother, she suffers from Parkinsons and we moved her to a residential care home earlier this year. We had a lovely day at the Polo field on Easter Sunday.
Mom enjoyed watching the match and at halftime, The Easter Bunny fell out of the sky — he was part of a team of skydivers brought in to share the fun.
But wouldn’t you know it, once I thought my care giving days were over, both of our senior cats ended up with health care issues at the same time. Hyena, our loud-mouthed tortie-mix, who had been making the worst cater-walling wails, ended up in the hospital with a kidney infection. I don’t even want to talk about how much that cost, as Hyena was the cat that just decided to come and live at my husband’s house (before we were married) and he wasn’t so thrilled at the idea of spending so much money and the cat that “just showed up.”
The treatment was a success and Hyena is back to her old ways, of sitting on the newspaper when I’m trying to read it and yelling at me to give her more food.
Now, however, Velveteen, my editorial assistant, who usually sits on my desk and insists that I pet her when I am trying to write, is in bad shape. She showed up one morning, listless and unfocused. She’d been fine earlier in the day. The vet thinks that maybe she had a bad fall.
We’ve been nursing her on top of the stove – yes, very bizarre, but it is the one place where she is safe from the dog, Kona. Kona loves the cats, but loves them too much and is always trying to herd them. And the kitchen counters are high enough that Kona can’t get to the cats. Its’ a good thing I don’t have to cook three meals a day anymore, or we’d be in a jam.
We take such delight in our furry friends, and it is so painful when they are out of sorts, especially when you are faced with the dilemma of the cost of their care. But in the end, you do the best you can because of what they give you: unconditional love. And fur-balls. And poop to pick up.
But I digress. As for the house being turned into an animal hospital (last year it was Kona’s turn when she had to have knee surgery) truth be told, if I didn’t have these familiars to talk to and care for, I’d be feeling incredibly guilty for having parked my mother in a care home. She’s been going through a bad patch, and can you blame her? She’s living in a memory care facility, so her housemates are cranky old ladies like herself, most are suffering from Dementia and Alzheimer’s. Mom’s Parkinson’s symptoms are robbing her of physical functions, and most days, mentally she is still pretty sharp. But it’s hard to make new friends when they don’t even know who they are, let alone having enough brain function to remember you too.
And the beat goes on. I apologize for not posting more frequently, because along with the care giving, I’m making steady progress on my novel, and on my “Astrology for Writers” series, so watch this space for more installments. I love hearing from all of you, so where do you land on the care giving spectrum? Human or animal, it doesn’t matter. Thanks for stopping by and I look forward to catching up with you soon.