17-Apr-10

The furry patient went to the vet yesterday and had his final stitches removed. That was the good news; the bad news was that he has to spend another three days in confinement.

So, today I'm in the garden. the back door is open, but the kitchen door is closed so that the patient cannot escape. Then there he is. Blithely strolling around the open back door back inside the house. How did he do that? I follow him inside and the kitchen door is still closed.

After nearing four weeks confined in the prison camp I call home, he must had perfected his escape plan. He was not disguised as a sheep! Well, if you can't beat them and they have already worked out the escape plan, you might just as well let him get on with it.

So, contrary to the vet's instructions he's allowed out. And I'm sure he feels so much better for it.

12-Apr-10

Come Wednesday it will have been three weeks since his operation, but still confined to barracks. We went to the vet today to have his stitches taken out, but after the removal of the sixth the vet stopped. The wound was starting to open. The ends have healed nicely, but where the fluid had pushed against the stitches, the centre portion, the sides had no knitted together yet. So, we shall return on Friday afternoon to see if the last two stitches can be removed.

It will have been over three weeks of howling protestations at having to use a litter tray.

03-Apr-10

The wee man was up before the veterinary parole board again this morning. But he had scratched his wound last night and started it weeping. Also the swelling had returned. He was escorted under guard to the veterinarians. The temporary release from his confinement in the prison box was only greeted by a thermometer up his rectum. The wound was inspected, squeezed and prodded. The vet drew about 12mls of fluid this time around and prescribed a 6-day course of antibiotics as a precaution against infection. He took no joy from the compliments of his soft and silky coat - with the big bare rectangle cut out of his back, thank you very much!

Anyway, the sentence has been extended. The stitches remain. He's confined to barracks for another week.

01-Apr-10

I only worked a half-day today. So, I spent the afternoon composing a test, my first. In all it took nearly five hours, but it's done and published. And on a most auspicious day for it.

Between work and play I took the patient back to the vet. He had developed a swelling under the stitches. After the indignity of having to use a litter tray for the past week he then has a thermometer stuck up his bum. Normal temperature so no infection, but the nurse wanted a vet to look at him. On their reurn to the room, he tried to run for it, but I held him on the table. The table has a metal strip around the edge. When the nurse tried to pick him up so that the vet could see the patient he was holding on. Little fellow had managed to get his claws hooked under the metal strip. I unhooked him; there shall be no escape. They drained about 6mls of fluid from under the stitches and sent him home. I think that when he's not being watched he is giving one of the stitches a tug.

Come on Saturday and the stitches come out. Then he should be able to get out and about again.

31-Mar-10

A journal entry first thing in the morning? It had to be done.

The little black and white cat who sleeps on my bed was fussing for attention this morning at about ten to five. She's hungry, I thought. Her brother, the recuperating cat, would be in soon asking for his breakfast, then I'd get up. But he did not come in. Hm.

The brother is confined to barracks until his stitches are taken out, so at night the kitchen door is closed. This allows the two younger cats to come and go through the cat-flap, but they only have access to the kitchen. The two older cats have the run of the rest of the house but can't get out. The brother has access to the litter tray and his sister sleeps on my bed anyway.

So, just after five, I'm awake waiting for the patient to enter the bedroom, I can smell cat shit. Oh, no, where is it? I'm up and searching. Smells stonger towards the bedroom door. Not in the bedroom. Black cat is sitting patiently outside the bedroom on the landing. Strong cat shitty smell, but not on the landing. Right, maybe he's used the litter tray downstairs. No. Traces of wee but nothing more solid. Ok, maybe I'm imagining (or whatever you call smelling false smells). Well, since I'm downstairs I might as well get the breakfast bowls filled.

So, with three of fours cats eating breakfast, I go to the bathroom. There's still a strong smell of cat shit though. Turn on the light in the bathroom. There it is. I was not hallucinating; I had smelt cat shit. The little black and white cat had not been able to lift the lid of the lavatory, but she hadn't left it on the lid, nor on the carpet. It was in the bath.

"Oh, cat!"

29-Mar-10

I know he's had an operation and we changed the clocks at the weekend, but it is far too early at two o'clock in the morning for a recuperating cat to want breakfast. He had to jump onto my pillow to press home his need. I managed to sleep fitfully until a quarter past five, then with another cat doubling up on the demand for food I got up.

Easter cannot come fast enough. I can catch up on my sleep. The early morning riser can go to the vet and get his stitches taken out. And then he can go out and about. The cat-flap shall be open to all.

27-Mar-10

The Mass was identified last night as a benign basal tumour. This morning the patient and I travelled to the vet; he encaged in his box, me chauffeuring. The 8-stitch wound is clean, no swelling, no redness or weeping. It is healing well. We have to go back to the vet next Saturday to have the stitches taken out. Until then the wee man is confined to barracks. My ears have been condemned to a week of listening to his pining for the great outdoors. While his feline housemates can go and play in the garden and crap in the neighbours' vegetable patch, he has the humiliation of having to use a litter tray, like an incontinent kitten. Oh, how demeaning!

But it's only for a week and I will get up at half past three or four in the morning to get his breakfast.

25-Mar-10

I was treated this afternoon to a wonderful display of lightning as I drove home through a thunderstorm. The last spectacular storm that I enjoyed was in Abu Dhabi. But this afternoon's show was the best I have seen in England for many years. The lightning was arcing between clouds. It was a shame that I was on a motorway, unable to stop, and I did not have a camera to hand.

24-Mar-10

The title to this post might attract the more religiously inclined but this is not a rant about Catholicism.  This mass was growing on the back of one of the cats.  He's ten going on eleven and what I thought might be a small cist bloomed while I was in Paris into something approaching the size of a quail egg.  So after checking into the office on Monday, I took Tuesday off to take the wee man to the vet.  The cat approached the prospect of insertion into the cat-box reluctantly.  With legs and paws spread wide the challenge was on.  Unfortunately for him the cat-box also opens at the top.  So, with front and back paws held together in he went.  Lid done before he can jump out.  Thence to vet.  That was where I learnt the veterinarian term for the growth on his back, a 'mass'.

After an overnight stay he was under the knife.  Well, by the look of him now it was the clippers.  He is black, and long haired, something of a Norwegian Forest cat, but his sister is black and white.  When she has been clipped her white fur grows from pink skin and her black fur from black skin.  Under all his black fur her brother is pink, but with a sort of 5 o'clock shadow.

He is home with a large wound on his back, eight stitches, and confined to barracks for at least three days.  And he is obliged to use the litter tray.  You can see the look of indignation.  But he had his revenge: big crap and left it unburied.

On Saturday he's up before the parole nurse to find out if he can go out on the town again.

15-Mar-10

Spent the day at the Louvre. It was saddening to see the crowd milling around one painting in almost a frenzy. The painting has to be protected by secure glass which will only reflect the lights of cameras pointed at it. Nobody can stop and just look and appreciate. The secure glass is needed because their are in this world people who wish to destroy representations of the human form.

It has happened three times now and not very well either. There are some people in Paris who will drop a cheap gold coloured ring on the ground and then pick it up and offer it to you. Monsieur, have you dropped this? No, one I don't wear rings and two I just saw you drop it (and because you dropped it on the pavement that I had not even got to yet!). On the third occasion, I am sorry to admit that my French was replaced by two words of more Anglo-Saxon origin.

16-Mar-10

Went up to visit the Sacre Coeur up on Montmartre. It is a good starting place to wander among the old streets, it's all downhill from there. Although, you are requested to respect the sanctity of the place and listen to the continuous service you can also puchase your 2 Euro souvenir medal from one of the vending machines inside the basilica!

Several years ago I also visited Lourdes and the lasting impression was one of the tackiness of the souvenir shops that line either side of the road leading to the site. There one can puchase your plastic Christ-shaped bottle to collect your holy water. Merde!

17-Mar-10

Wandered around the Musee de l'Armee and Napoleon's Tomb. It was interesting to note that Moscow, Wellington and Blucher did not get much of a look in. Hm?

One can also puchase a 2 Euro souvenir medal there.

18-Mar-10

Just enjoyed bimbling.

19-Mar-10

Home again. A kilo heavier. Cat sitter hasn't lost any of the little darlings.