Curiosity is terminal

Saturday, 20 January 2018


Good Morning! Welcome to what I hope is a new feature: blogging every Saturday! I figure if I have nothing else to write about, and nothing that I can bring myself to write about, I have a plethora of cats I can write about. And maybe I can bring myself to write about the things I can't bring myself to write about in a roundabout way.

That is the inimitable Cricket. Cricket is a year old. I adopted her from a family with small children whom I think pulled her tail and mauled her. She is very particular about being touched (only on the top of the head and the chin, thank you human) and it took about six months before she raised her tail off the floor.
My dad has always described a particular kind of jumpy, manic behaviour as being like "a flea on a hot griddle."  He had a customer years ago, when he was selling doors and windows, whom he described that way. Some time after, when I had become a carpenter, I learned that this particular man had a strong liking for cocaine. We don't know if Cricket likes cocaine or not, because it's not a thing we have around, but like most kittens she certainly bounced around like she had been snorting the stuff by the bushel. "Flea" seemed an inauspicious name for a pet, and so we settled on Cricket. We also call her 4 because she is our fourth cat, Bunny because she is a clumsy dumb bunny and Lux because she swans around here in the world's most luxurious fur coat.

That is Cricket doing what Crickets like best: climbing things that are hard to get down from.  And that is the autumn view from my bedroom window. The cat and her expression are also my morning view from March to October. She goes outside, climbs the swing and hollers in the bedroom window.

The cats are a funny distraction from the current sad things happening in our lives.  Dad was moved to hospice yesterday. It is a relief to have him out of the far too crowded ward and room he was in. The nurses were wonderful and kind, but he was sharing a room that was designed to be a private room and it was too near the nurses station. He was hearing snippets of conversations and as he becomes disoriented he thought all conversations were about him. He was getting kind of paranoid.  He is not in great pain, and he is pretty lucid most of the time and still very articulate, as long as his mouth and throat aren't dry. He's been depressed for a long time and sometimes he is really frustrated and angry, and sometimes he wishes with all his being that it would just be over. I have always been close to my dad and it is hard to lose him. He will be 80 this year, though he is very unlikely to make it to June, and this is the way of life, but every day I encounter things I will not get to tell him about some day, share with him some day, ask him about some day. I am trying not to think of him as gone yet, but it's hard not to miss him.  We are also coping with the news that Beloved's mom is in hospital and failing back in Saint John.  She was here for a month over Christmas and we had a wonderful time, so we have something good to hold onto there. We are feeling a little overwhelmed.

While Cricket is not the most therapeutic of the cats, she likes to be near someone. I am the person of choice when there are multiple people here, but mostly she prefers to sit just out of touching range.  As I type, she is sitting behind the computer monitor and occasionally puts a paw under the monitor, or plays with something rustley to remind me she is there. It is enough.


  1. karen.

    First, Cricket is adorable. Second...there are no words for what you're going through, and less than none for what your Dad is. I wish I had the words, the incantation or proclamation or cuss word that would make it all better. I don't. I don't think anyone does.
    If you need an ear to hear your words, and a virtual shoulder, I'm here...find me on Facebook if you'd like to.
    Sending love and a hug,

    Ken Breadner

  2. It is enough, indeed.

    Hurray for Caturday!

    (really, really enjoyed your last post Karen)

  3. My mom and dad are getting way the fuck up there too. One of them with more hospital time over the years than you can imagine and the other with very little of that. Like you we cherish every Christmas they are around.

    I have my three neighbour’s cats. When I look out back they are there, like soldiers, waiting to kill something, anything.

  4. Thanks for your kind words, Ken. Dad is mostly just mad. It's really fortunate that he is not in great pain, and he is pretty lucid now that they have the pain medication worked out. I think there is time for a few more conversations.

  5. Hi Ross! I have a few other ideas to get me writing throughout the week. I have some trees for you!

  6. Hi Beer! Welcome to my place. I only have one murderous cat and I have worked out how to keep her from killing birds at any rate. There don't seem to be mice or rabbits or anything else around, so she is kind of frustrated. My offspring brought her boyfriend and his lovely dog while we say goodbye to her Grandfather. The dog is the best dog I ever met and I'm getting quite accustomed to having one around. The cats, on the other hand, hide in the bedroom and behave.

  7. RossK sent me, well his blog did. Like your writing. I'll be back.

  8. Hi e.a.f. Thank you for stopping by. I have seen your comments at RossK's place over the years. We share a love of this province and a distrust of our politicians, especially those of the LINO persuasion.