Cat on my lap

Charlie was found in an automotive warehouse as a very young cat. He was wild, he was scared, and he was not to be messed with. Some of the men in the warehouse attempted to catch him on occasion and he proved to be a hellion. One man even put on elbow length welders gloves to catch him and was hacked to pieces by Charlie’s claws. One day a woman who worked in one of the offices came by with a live trap and baited it with food for the hungry mouse killing garbage scavenging cat. Charlie was captured. Not too happily I must say. She took him home to her dog and a cat and Charlie attempted to live within a normal household. He turned out to be a very sweet, shy kitty but the woman’s other cat did not like him and tortured Charlie all day long. Charlie and the dog got along famously but the other cat was not having Charlie in his home. So the woman put up pictures of Charlie all over her work for someone to take pity on him and adopt him.

 

Charlie is a very beautiful cat, solid black fur, black paws and toes and black nose. My husband saw the picture at work and came home to tell me about him. He told me the cat’s story and said the woman who captured him said Charlie is still rather feral and hides from anyone other than her who comes near. I felt sorry for the poor cat and since I already had been thinking that my cat at home needed a buddy, I told my husband that we needed to adopt him.

 

We went over to the woman’s house and all three of us went in search of Charlie. He completely freaked out and ran all over the house. At one point he bounced off of the living room window and as I made a grab for him he bit me. He also bit my husband when he grabbed for him and Charlie ended up in the bathroom. The woman brought the live trap cage and we managed to get him into it and take him home.

 

Once home we needed to quarantine Charlie so he and our other cat Andy could get to know each other by sniffing under the door and other cat communication. The room we put him in did not have a cold air return cover so I stuffed a pillow into it never thinking that over the night Charlie would push the pillow aside and end up in our duct work. So there he was. After two days of him not coming out we ended up setting the live trap again and he was caught inside.  

After two more days we let Charlie out into the house and our cat Andy was not happy about this newcomer. I thought he needed to play with a companion, not beat up a companion so we ended up with another cat Bob. But that is another story.

 

Charlie became used to us, then accepting of us then loving us. But he was not a cat to pick up or have on your lap. Over time he ventured to sit next to us and be petted and then cuddle up real close but never more than that. Both my husband and I wished he would sit in our laps but Charlie was still insecure and no matter how many pets and caresses he just wouldn’t do it. So we learned to accept this and everyone was happy.

 

Just the other day Charlie came over to me and cuddled up very close and tight to me as I was sitting on the couch. He became playful and rolling around on the couch to have his belly rubbed. Suddenly he came and sat in my lap! Just of a minute but I could not believe it! I was very close to tears. My cat finally had the courage and the trust in me to open himself up to this new experience. And it is wonderful to see him go from a feral, suspicious, shy cat to one who yearns for love and realizes that he can completely trust me. This was the best day ever.

Love this bike

This weekend I am taking a motorcycle class at the local training center. I have been a passenger on a bike for quite a while but never a driver, always intimidated by 800 pounds of roaring machine under my command. We own 2 Harleys and have not had much opportunity to ride. Mostly because MI has such crappy roads and then we moved here and were consumed with settling in. Now that sunny days are coming back into vogue we want to get out and cruise the roads and through the mountains. So really, what is the real reason I want to take a class? It’s because I saw this beautiful bike that is the coolest looking one I have ever seen.

 

To me, Harleys are intimidating. Giant, heavy pieces of metal that could tip over and crush you and maim you and cut off your leg. I don’t see how they can be propped up by a little dab of a kickstand. I’m used to throwing my bike on the ground (as a kid) or having a slender, agile 10 speed that contentedly and delicately leaned on a stand not that much bigger than a Harleys’. Or I just leaned it against the garage wall and walked away safe in the knowledge that if it did happen to fall over nothing would really be damaged.

 

The class begins tonight and runs through Sunday. My worry is figuring out shifting. I have learned how to drive a manual car and only will do it if absolutely necessary because I am pretty bad at it. I’m not sure if a bike is anything like a car in terms of shifting and such. I fear I will get my feet tangled up on the controls that I will lock up and fall over.

 

I bought a new helmet too. I already have a half helmet which I would use a scarf over my face for cold or extreme wind and I got used to that. For this class I have to have a ¾ or full face one. I opted for the ¾ one and boy, does that ever squeeze my face. I hope that is not too much of a distraction for class. Helmets always make me feel like a bobble head already and now add to it a squished up uncomfortable bobble head. There is not a helmet law in SC but I would not want to be without one. Not only for safety but I don’t enjoy the wind flying through my hair. I’d much rather have hat hair.

 So I’m off to class.

I now live in Upstate South Carolina, in a beautiful little city that already I have great affection for. Being one who never lived by, much less saw mountains (except one time outside of Las Vegas), it is just amazing. We moved here in July; that trip was probably the worst travel experience I ever had. I have had a lot of bad car rides, mostly because I get extremely car sick when I am not driving, and my worst childhood car rides were to go to my grandparents cottage in Irish Hills, MI. Lots of hills. Lots. Backseats are the worst unless you can look out the windshield. I was a little kid so there wasn’t much chance of being able to do that.

But this trip was difficult for much different reasons. There were 3 of us, me, my husband and a good friend of ours. We loaded two rental trucks with way, way too much stuff and then trailered a car behind each one. I drove the car with 3 out of 4 unhappy cats. The fourth one rode with my husband in the front seat of the truck. This one had been so traumatized as a youth with wire cages (before we adopted him) we couldn’t bear to put him in the big travel cage so he went into the large carrier and he seemed to be content with that. One of the other unhappy cats was so upset that he hauled off and bit and nearly fatally scratched me. I was bleeding significantly. I got the arm disinfected and bandaged up and had my husband capture the cat and put him in another carrier. He completely freaked out when my husband tried to put him in the wire cage and he ran across the room and up the walls, kind of like at a carnival or circus where a motorcycle drives around a cage, up the sides and around and around. But when my husband brought in the little carrier he walked in just as calm as could be. He is just the sweetest little thing but he couldn’t handle his fear.

It was hot and raining in MI when we left and just as we were pulling out of our neighborhood one of the trailers blew a tire, literally right as we were about to turn onto the main drag to the freeway. I could feel the forward momentum screeching to a halt. Frustrating. I know, I know, it’s lucky it happened then and not on the freeway. Ok.

At 1pm we were finally on our way. Once on the road the cats resigned themselves to being trapped in their containers. I think they figured out that they were not going to the vet. The route we drove took us through West Virginia and driving through the mountains in the dark and rain and highly overloaded vehicles was no picnic. The trucks could barely make it up the hills and on the down stroke our friend was barreling down on me to the point I would have to call my husband and tell him to make him back off. We often were separated in the awesomely substantial fog and I would receive calls from my husband asking where the hell I was. A harrowing 16 hours later we arrived to our new house, at 5:30am. The last hour I listened to Lady Gaga at maximum volume with the windows rolled down and slapping myself in the face. It was awful. To top it all off I had to pull off the freeway into a gas station near to the end of the trip because I was sure one of the cats pooped in its container. Turns out freaked out attack cat was farting mightily. So fart he would for the next two hours. Lovely.

This morning I used my glucose meter for the first time. It seems I have pretty thick skin on my fingertips because it took 3 tries to get any blood going. I had that sucker cranked up to 7 before I could bleed. Then my score was 177. I am not at all happy with that. I had strip steak (in moderation) the night before but I don’t think that would make a glucose difference. Maybe it’s because I took Metformin this morning instead of last night? Not sure. But the reason I took it this morning is I found that I cannot sleep if I take it after dinner or at bedtime. I do not need induced insomnia along with everything else. I am new to this drug (6 days) so I will have to roll with it. I had some evening nausea 3 days ago so I am hoping by taking it during the day it will not be during the day. I can’t handle nausea. I could have an injury and handle it better than nausea. That is the worst thing in the world for me. I had my gallbladder out and I told everyone who walked by that I needed anti-nausea medicine. 3 or 4 kinds and lots of it. It did work.

I am following my version of the South Beach diet and so far it seems to be helpful. I am down 12 pounds (!) but I am starving all the time. Not cool. I have so far to go that I try not to think about it. I try not to think about much of anything because the things I care about will creep in and make me sad. So I stick to my random thoughts.

Entering my food into My Fitness Pal is really helpful. It’s absolutely shocking to see what is actually in food. I was so smug thinking that just having a kids size cheeseburger at McDonald’s was eating light but I was only fooling my head, not my body. My body knew better, that sly thing. It tried to tell me that I was headed for trouble but I did not listen. I didn’t care was more like it but now that I am faced with a disease it’s either do or die.

Semiconscious is how I got to where I am right now. I knew it was bad but I did it anyway.