September 2 at 6 AM and I finish my coffee and a few back issues of some journals I enjoy I am met by Snickers at the entry to the dining room, meowing fervently and blocking my path. Snickers is a long hair something that even when perfectly stationary is producing a fine cloud of dander flying everywhere. In alert mode she extends her significant coat out to make herself bigger. Such was her profile as she looked up at me and loudly meowed. Of course at this hour of the morning I know the game. I started it by doing it once, and she has us repeat it occasionally. I think she is polishing the routine so she can train her Mother. I said OK and Snickers led me to the utility room door, I followed her in and she jumped up on the water softener, a 30” tall affair with a flat top where her bowl is placed. I stepped up, she turned to me, I began the dutch rub on her back just up from the tail and told her what a fine animal she is and how lucky I am to have her. She then turned and buried her face in her breakfast. This is the only time in our daily routine when Snickers allows my approach, I can even lay my head on her back during this game, a move that would only mean puncture wounds and hard feelings at any other time.
I continue to experience an increased sensation of edema in my left arm. It is a tingling accompanied by an ache deep in the limb, a tired stiffening kind of ache. We took measurements for baseline yesterday to see of it is edema or just a reaction to increased gym activity. I pray it is the latter.
Showing posts with label training. Show all posts
Showing posts with label training. Show all posts
7.9.10
15.8.10
On Being Cat Strated
The heat is again oppressive. I am dripping with the AC blowing on me as I write this. Does talking about your medical stuff come with old age? Thinking back on the weekend picnic I can only imagine how the support group must be, with all the gory details likely including urine and fecal details out the wahzoo. My lymphodema is a point of curiosity. The muscle I apparently pulled scraping the gutters or lifting the punching bag or some other worthy endeavor is definitely getting better with the passing of days. I walked a mile or so this morning, unable to make the pace but able to make the distance.
I have also realized I now respond to non verbal commands from 4 legged family members.
The Cat’s Furtive Glance
Told me the door to the laundry room where the food and litter pan were was closed.
Told me that the other cat was on the porch and wanted in.
Told me she was afraid.
Told me she wanted to play.
Told me to leave her alone.
Told me she was hungry.
Told me she wanted out.
Told me she wanted in.
I’ve been cat strated as Rex would say.
Another unintended consequence is my new found relationship with the house cats, who graciously shared their domicile and keepers time with me during my darkest hours. They have trained me well as you can see. Ah if only we could bottle this technique that trains humans so effectively without vocalization of the commands. Of course that is not to say they are not crybabies at times but for the most part the cats are quietly adhering to their daily routine and schedule as close as they can, and training us to do our part to keep that schedule in order. They have both proven to be good company and I am glad they are part of the family and all of that, but there is certainly something quite different about these two. Our house cat previous to these two was Claws, a Siamese of sorts that lived nearly 20 years, ruling inside and out with fully armed toes (hence his name). From a kitten I (first ran over HIM with my truck) trained him like I would dog and started his life with a daily dose of German Shepherd in the garage until he got use to it.
These two cats have resisted my efforts to treat them with the same glory. I find myself trained like a dog. So it is that the cat can command and I will respond with no more than a furtive glance.
I have also realized I now respond to non verbal commands from 4 legged family members.
The Cat’s Furtive Glance
Told me the door to the laundry room where the food and litter pan were was closed.
Told me that the other cat was on the porch and wanted in.
Told me she was afraid.
Told me she wanted to play.
Told me to leave her alone.
Told me she was hungry.
Told me she wanted out.
Told me she wanted in.
I’ve been cat strated as Rex would say.
Another unintended consequence is my new found relationship with the house cats, who graciously shared their domicile and keepers time with me during my darkest hours. They have trained me well as you can see. Ah if only we could bottle this technique that trains humans so effectively without vocalization of the commands. Of course that is not to say they are not crybabies at times but for the most part the cats are quietly adhering to their daily routine and schedule as close as they can, and training us to do our part to keep that schedule in order. They have both proven to be good company and I am glad they are part of the family and all of that, but there is certainly something quite different about these two. Our house cat previous to these two was Claws, a Siamese of sorts that lived nearly 20 years, ruling inside and out with fully armed toes (hence his name). From a kitten I (first ran over HIM with my truck) trained him like I would dog and started his life with a daily dose of German Shepherd in the garage until he got use to it.
These two cats have resisted my efforts to treat them with the same glory. I find myself trained like a dog. So it is that the cat can command and I will respond with no more than a furtive glance.
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