Journal of a Sabbatical

October 6, 1999

green bile

American League Division Series Game 1

Today's Starting Pitcher: Pedro Martinez

Today's Reading: Danube by Claudio Magris

Lucky, who was just liberated from the quarantine room on Monday, is stalking everybody in sight. He's relishing being around other cats and having somebody to play with. He's got cool looking feet. We've had a run of cats with interesting feet lately.

I didn't bring any coffee for Benjia to spill or Chloe to drink today. I've pretty much given up trying to get anything I might care to drink or eat out of any of the Dunkin Donuts along Rt. 110. Besides that, the Dunkies small cup just bounces around in the Land Yacht's cup holder and spills the coffee almost as efficiently as Benjia does. So, without any coffee to spill, Benjia knocks over the carefully stacked clean litter boxes waiting for Roy to dry them.

Midgee is sleeping on top of the dryer using the control knob as a pillow. She has this blissful expression on her face even though her choice of pillow looks uncomfortable. Chloe doesn't seem at all interested in challenging her for the dryer.

Jaguar looks pale today. Instead of bright pink, his nose and ears are almost white. Kendra says he threw up green bile this morning too. Bonnie makes an appointment to take him downstairs for some blood work (some days it is very convenient to be upstairs from a vet), but first she tries to clip his nails so he won't cause grievous bodily harm to the vet. Jaguar does not like to be handled. She had to hold his leg kind of up by his head so he couldn't get her while she clipped, and he howled at the top of his lungs. He screamed. His howls raised the general tension level around the place. Even after he went downstairs, all the other cats were worked up and skittish.

Poor Jaguar. He's old. He's got kidney diseases. He's a little arthritic. I started to think seriously about taking him home with me despite Wilbur's jealousies, but when I thought rationally about it I realized that Wilbur is so aggressive he'd be going after Jaguar all the time. That would be an even less pleasant way to spend his final months than living at the shelter. Even though Jaggie lives in a cage at the shelter, I think he's found sort of a niche for himself and is happy enough. I'd take him home in a heartbeat if I had a place I could close off from Wilbur for him. Time to buy that second home...

We got a couple of new black cats. We have jillions of black cats. Why did we have zero black cats when Andrea wanted one? Anyway, I find black cats impossible to photograph. It's especially hard with the digital camera because there's no fiddling with apertures and exposure times and whatever to compensate. Sometime I've gotta learn how to do real photography with this thing. Meanwhile, I was scrambling around on the floor with my legs aching from yesterday's climb up Jackson Falls (actually it's the climb down that I' aching from) trying to corner little black cats who insisted on hiding behind everything in the office. Spanky hid behind the computer, which made for some interesting shots once I squeezed myself back there.

For once, I went straight home from the cat shelter. No coffee. No used books. No lunch at any of my regular haunts. And no bird-seeking behavior. I am going slightly bonkers not having binoculars. The Birdwatcher of Newburyport called me on Saturday to tell me they'd called everywhere and nobody has a single pair of the ones I had anymore. I was whining about this to Tom and QI at Starbucks on Sunday and QI suggested quite seriously that I should ask the police or the guy at the Sunoco station (who knows these things) where in Lawrence they sell stolen goods and just go there and buy back my binoculars. I would have expected that suggestion from a streetwise guy like Ned, but from QI who is sitting there translating a Saint Augustine treatise on demons from the Latin? (He's applying to be on a team contracted by the Augustinians to do a new modern translation of the complete works of St. Augustine.) So I'm considering this idea.

Back at home I laid in a supply of groceries and such and then fiddled with the tv to get the Fox station well enough to watch the ball game tonight. With all this car upheaval I have not bought myself the promised new tv and cable for watching the Red Sox in the playoffs. Of course, after tonight's injury to Pedro Martinez in the fourth inning, I guess I won't be needing a new tv for much longer this year. Grumble. Growl. But it ain't over 'til it's over.