For the past two days, a cold front has caused the weather (with windchill) to dip to -40 degrees. Luckily, it started on Friday and I only had to commute to work that one day, but even so, during the ten minute walk home that I had to take, most of my toes got frostnip. Nothing serious of course — frostnip is easily treated at home and won’t turn into frostbite as long as you can warm up the affected area quickly enough. Still, it was enough to convince me to stay firmly inside for the entirety of Saturday. On my way home Friday, I’d actually been considering volunteering to lead a Saturday shift at work. Ha! I changed my mind real quick during that walk in the cold.
The fact I’d been considering at all was mainly due to the fact that I was off at the beginning of the week to take care of Scout who, it turns out, has asthma brought on by seasonal allergies (and dust, most likely). I came to realize that some things I’d considered “normal” for a long time were actually symptoms, and a sudden worsening of what he had been experiencing warranted a trip to the vet. He was diagnosed, he was an incredibly good boy during the trip to and from the vet, and he’s doing okay now. Though… our apartment is old, dusty, and stuffy by nature, so I’ve got some trial and error cleaning to do to make it more comfortable for him and by extension, me (because I have seasonal allergies too).
One of the things that the vet prescribed (aside from some stronger measures during peak seasons), was… regular bathing! Ordinarily this isn’t something a cat needs, but given the dust and allergens that settle on his long fur, bathing and shampooing is going to be necessary, it turns out, as long as he’s experiencing symptoms. He wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about his first bath earlier this week, but he was surprisingly calm about it. He’s already very fond of watching the tub fill with water when it comes to my baths, so this was just taking things a step further. He tried to jump out several times, but he didn’t try to scratch or bite me. And afterwards, he did seem to be breathing easier and feeling better!
The more dust I manage to root out of this apartment of ours, the better he’ll feel after each bath, and the better our air purifier will work.
One incredible thing that happened after getting home from the vet and giving him a bath: he’s been biting and swiping at me less. I’m thinking this has something to do with the act of me bathing him being both an assertive act and a caring one, but also that going to the vet and coming home was reassuring. He belongs here. He has a home. He isn’t being abandoned. He handled the whole experience extremely well and it built some more trust between us. I felt so proud of him. He was completely unbothered by the presence of another cat, and just as unbothered by the presence of several dogs passing through the office. I don’t know how he would be around children, but he’s friendly towards adults and seems comfortable being around other cats and dogs. The more I teach him to express himself by meowing and licking and using soft paws instead of biting or holding human limbs with his claws out (slowly but surely), the more confident I feel that he might be okay around children too, with time.
He’s a very intelligent, brave, protective, and affectionate cat.
Not to mention, a real beauty, a truly handsome boy!
To summarize: I’m glad I adopted Scout, and I’m also glad I decided not to freeze my butt off going in to work yesterday.
I woke up this morning (Sunday), to a leisurely snowfall, which was a sign that the extreme cold had passed… and a particularly beautiful way to start my morning of writing in that it nudged me into just the right sort of headspace for it.
When I write, I imagine the details of scenes as stills, as photographs, and play interactions like short movie clips in my head. Inner thoughts, monologue, and dialogue aren’t enough for me — I need tactile details and textures to anchor my mind and senses into what I’m writing. It doesn’t quite feel like a cerebral process. It feels more like trying to experience a moment bodily. What does it feel like to be in the scene, in physical space? How can I place myself and the reader in the moment I’m penning (typing)? I don’t want us to observe from a safe, mental distance. I want us to be there. I want us to experience the physical, the emotional, the spiritual space and all the thoughts that come with it, both the character’s and ours.
It’s a lofty goal.
I sure as hell fall short on it a lot of the time — but that’s what I reach for.
The fact that humans can share their imagined, inner landscapes (and through so many mediums, besides) never fails to awe me.
I am as awed by the romantic, the fantastic, the imagined as I am with the minutiae of everyday existence. That’s likely also why I’m prone to depression. You can’t have awe without going through moments and periods of despair. But awe is the constant. There is always awe to be shored up in times of despair, even when it’s small, even when it’s just a grain. A grain of hope is enough to turn that tide.