There’s hardly any reason to complain here in my humble abode with just me and the clowder.  However, there is one thing that’s beginning to vex me lately.

When I start down the hallway, PC gets in front of me and saunters along like he has all day.  I tell him to move along, but he just walks . . . walks . . . walks.  Very irritating.  One of the techs at my vet’s office suggested since I have a history of falling, PC’s trying to slow me down.  I wouldn’t be surprised because he’s smart enough to do that, but I’ve never fallen in the hallway.  He needs to get in front of me on the hardwood floors.  I’ve never fallen over a cat.

There’s no hurrying him along, so I’ll try to be more patient.  He has his own reason for doing this, but he won’t say what it is.  Normally, he darts around the house, racing from place to place like a kitten.  He’s very youthful for his fifteen years.  That makes it in even more puzzling that he won’t move out of the way down the hall.

I have an entourage of furry little creatures everywhere I go.  Privacy is a forgotten thing for me.  Whatever I’m doing, wherever I am, I have a cluster of cats right by my side.  Everyone wants to touch me, so we end up with a pile of cats, with one stretching his little “arm” over to lay it on my arm.  So sweet.

They’ve learned to tolerate me getting in the shower since I put a see-through shower liner up so they can get between the curtain and the liner, but we won’t even talk about a tub bath!  Little paws trying to pull me out.  Since I use a spray bottle of water to train them not to do things, they must think I’ve done something really bad!

Even though they are inside cats, they seem to feel the effect of the weather.  It’s getting hotter these days, and they’re getting lazier. 

We’re still giving PC his bi-weekly antibiotic shot, and now Endeavour gets a steroid medication every two days.  He’s been diagnosed with pancreatitis by a vet we had to visit when our own was on vacation.  Our own vet has some doubts about that, but we’re being vigilant.  He seems to be feeling better, so we’ll stretch the medication out to every three days and so on.

If I’m out of sight for a minute or two, they’re almost traumatized.  When I go out outside for any reason, everyone stands at the door waiting for me.  Even away for a few minutes, they’re so pleased I’m back.  I can hear their thoughts going something like this:  “Thank goodness, you’re back.”  “We thought you were gone forever.”  “We didn’t know what to do.”  “Don’t ever do that again!”

But you know what?  I wouldn’t have it any other way, and I wouldn’t take a million dollars for any or all of them.  Truly!