Off to the vet

 

Off to the vet

Arthur cuddles his mistress

Jellicoe, our delicate diabetic cat, likes to keep us on our toes. Normally ravenous, any change in his approach to food is a hint that something is amiss. Last week he began to show signs of a diminishing interest in his elevenses. There were no other indications. Breakfast had been consumed with sufficient enthusiasm, but we have learnt not to ignore subtle changes. Cats can become ill very quickly - Jellicoe has proved that more than once

A visit to Selene-the-vet showed that he had an infection, so an antibiotic injection was administered, his ears were thoroughly cleaned, and his claws were clipped. The claws were nothing to do with his health, but more concerned with his method of attracting notice to his need for breakfast. After a twelve-hour fast, he is more than ready for a meal. He draws attention to his hunger with sharp-needled taps and gentle nips on any adjacent adult.

Having settled his requirements, we thought his brother Herschel really ought to have his teeth checked. He hasn’t shown any signs of discomfort, and his breath is as acceptable as any healthy cat’s, but he is thirteen now, so an appointment was made for Monday.

 He accepted his temporary imprisonment in the cat carrier nonchalantly, sniffing carefully because Jellicoe had recently been transported in it. The result was that he needs a couple of extractions. The vets will pre-authorise it with the insurance company and then Herschel will spend a day with them in the near future. It’s always worrying when pets have to have surgical interventions, particularly as they grow older. However, it’s better to do it before problems arise.

Roxy relaxes elegantly with Herschel

In the afternoon, Roxy had her annual medical. She’s nearly eleven years old, but behaves as though she’s eleven months old. She had a clean bill of health, and is just the right weight, though she’d love the opportunity to overeat and pile on the pounds.

We could have sung ‘In and out the dusty bluebells’ as first one animal was seen and then another and in between whiles, there was a refreshing walk in the rain.

 

Not a competition

 

Not a competition

We had our first Christmas card on November 29^th, a record for the sender. His is usually the first to arrive, but it has always at least been December before his card drops through the letter box. He is now a widower, in his second Christmas as such, but always wrote the cards every year, much as my brother-in-law did.

I haven’t even written our cards, though I have bought the Christmas stamps. I suppose there are several approaches to card posting. Some send early, to ensure they have completed the task, and maybe to try and guarantee a card in return. Some send as and when they think about it, perhaps adding recipients as they go. Some wait to see who will send them cards and respond accordingly. Some choose never to send cards.

Increasingly, with the cost of postage rising, some opt to publish a general Christmas greeting on social media. They usually claim to be spending the cost of cards and postage on charity donations instead, which is entirely commendable.

I love receiving cards, and know from the envelopes who has sent them. Handwriting is so distinctive, but even with those bearing efficiently printed address labels, it’s possible to discern from post marks where they’ve come from.

However, it is with some trepidation that we open the cards. Some enclose those oft-mocked ‘round robins.’ It’s true that they can be missives of self-congratulation on personal achievements or offsprings’ accomplishments, but mostly they’re amusing, chatty summaries of life. They do relieve the task of writing the same things over and over again to different people.

Other cards bring news of death or disability, which cause a pause for reflection and memory.

 Our list has dwindled a little across the years.

 It’s inevitable. It’s sad. It’s life.

But life goes on (never start a sentence with ‘but!’) and I will have to set aside some time soon to write Christmas greetings. December gathers speed hour by hour and I already have a sense of time running out when there’s still so much to do and learn.

Running to catch up, as usual.