She looked very disappointed that she had missed me. I'd have gone back out to see her right then but my mom needed feeding, and then had a period of drama and needed more attention, and I was very busy for a long time. I checked outside again a few hours later but the kitty wasn't around. That glimpse through the window was probably the last I'll ever see of her.
Mom created more drama today. Despite repeated warnings about not going about the house on her own, she pushed her wheelie chair (not a proper wheelchair but a chair with four smaller wheels on it) out to the kitchen and, when she tried to sit down in it, it rolled out from behind her and she dropped down, smacking her bum on the floor again. I was sleeping, but my sister was here and decided it was time to stop listening to mom's perpetual refusal to go to the hospital to get checked out, so the ambulance was called to deliver her there, and the paramedics hoisted her onto a gurney and off she went.
After various scans and x-rays and tests it was determined that she had no serious injuries from her earlier fall, but that todays pratfall had gotten her a compressed disk. Now she's back home having been prescribed six to eight weeks of bed rest. I'm predicting she'll be defying doctor's orders by six o'clock tomorrow morning. If she keeps this up she'll find herself in a convalescent hospital.
We've taken her wheelie chair away, but nobody here can watch her 24 hours a day. I'm already short of sleep and nearing exhaustion as a result of all her recent misadventures. She needs to start cooperating in her home care and not wilfully defying sound advice if she expects to stay here. My dad is six years older than her and, despite some serious problems with his balance and mobility (which is why he can no longer be her sole caretaker by day when I'm sleeping), doesn't cause a fraction of the drama she does.
The kitty who liked to sit on my lap and purr may be gone, but the kitty who won't get within ten feet of me and who has kittens that scatter like windblown leaves at the sight of me is still here. They pretty much own the back yard by night now, and the kittens are even getting a bit more active by day. This evening I watched through the window as they engaged in kittenish frolic on the back porch, while mom cat watched from a spot on the lawn. Now the four of them are sleeping in a cat heap on the porch.
The mom cat had a visit from gray cat this afternoon, and seemed neither especially hostile nor especially welcoming toward him. I couldn't stay around to see how it turned out, but he was gone ten minutes later. At least he hasn't yet done any harm to the two kittens I can now see to be male. I think gray cat still thinks he's going to get lucky again, but it's probably way too soon for mom cat to be wanting another litter.
There are now chances of thunderstorms Tuesday and Wednesday, and chances of plain rain Thursday and Friday. It was cooler today and is considerably cooler this evening, but even on the possibly rainy days it's still going to stay in the seventies. I do hope there will be at least some rain, not only because it will help prolong the blooming of the poppies and the jasmine, but because it might wash some of the pollen from the air. Whatever pollenish havoc is going on with my sinuses is now beginning to affect my ears, so they vibrate and I hear my voice inside my head when I talk, and I hear popping noises every time I swallow. I wish I had an ocean nearby. Oceans are the graveyard of pollen.
EDIT: Guess what? Black and white kitty just turned up on my doorstep! I guess she didn't belong to the renters after all. Or maybe she just goes with the house. More likely she lives at another house in the neighborhood, because somebody is obviously feeding her. Or maybe the renters didn't move very far away and she's come back to her favored place. Another mystery.
Look what I forgot! Well, I have little time to do anything now, so it will have to be cut and paste.
by Edward Lear
He lived at Dingle Bank—he did;—
He lived at Dingle bank;
And in his garden was one Quail,
Four tulips, and a Tank;
And from his windows he could see
The otion and the River Dee.
His house stood on a Cliff, — it did,
In aspic it was cool;
And many thousand little boys
Resorted to his school,
Where if of progress they could boast
He gave them heaps of buttered toast.
But he grew rabid-wroth, he did,
If they neglected books,
And dragged them to adjacent cliffs
With beastly Button Hooks,
And there with fatuous glee he threw
Them down into the otion blue.
And in the sea they swam, they did,—
All playfully about,
And some eventually became
Sponges, or speckled trout;—
But Liverpool doth all bewail
Their Fate;—likewise his Garden Quail.
From this web site. Be Leary!