Snowed In

This day 4 of our isolation here on the side of a mountain. The snow was generous and our driveway is still covered in white. I imagine (no, I know) there is a good layer of ice under the white stuff. The truck will not ascend the driveway. The Man did try, mumbling about getting the mail. I doubt that was the real reason he tried. He disdained all my suggestions for dinner, and he really wanted to go get take-out. He was forced to eat what I offered.

I made a nice soup from frozen turkey and potatoes and carrots. It was good, he had to admit. The feral feline colony thought so, too. They were happy to scarf up the leftovers. Lucy almost succumbed to the bitter cold and enter the house. Then she chickened out. I feel certain that Kevin has told them to let me pick them up, that they won't regret it.

I am really worried about Scar. Her wounds have opened. It looks like she may have made contact with the ground, and her belly froze to it. Now it is a big raw mess. I want so badly to scoop her up and clean all her wounds, then slather them with Neosporin. I could make a shirt for her to wear and cover them. When my little Emmy broke her back, I used a white sock and cut armholes for her front legs. It fit tightly enough to protect her sutures from Oscar and his attempt to lick them out. That would work well with Scar and keep her a little warmer if she insisted on staying outside.

Kevin thinks he is one of the dogs. He sticks his little head into the feeding bowl and eats while the dogs eat. Doesn't matter that he has his own food and bowl. Eddie allows this, which lets me know that he considers Kevin to be his cat. If Bo were to attempt to share a bowl with Eddie, much snarling and gnashing of teeth would happen.

Kevin will quietly jump onto my chair or the chair of The Man for a nap now. He has created a little havoc by knocking things to the floor from the counter in the bathroom in the wee hours of the night. I bought him a few toys, which perplexes Bo, since before Kevin he was the only pet who appreciates having a basket of playthings at his disposal. They are all stuffed animals, no balls, just his collection of "wubbies" that he will retrieve on demand and then wait for you to toss it down the hall for his chasing pleasure. Kevin's favorite toy is an empty pill bottle that I put three dried beans in to make noise. He will roll it along the floor with deep concentration.

The dogs are probably wondering why we have not gone anywhere. Toni Louise seems to have perked up lately. This scares me because my old Collie, Sarge, did the same thing shortly before he died. She is wearing diapers now. Unable to control her bladder, she will either dribble constantly or just suddenly make a huge puddle. She did not like being diapered at first but now waits patiently for me to secure the velcro holding it in place. She has 4 diapers (washable, of course) in cute prints. The one with roses is my favorite. She has mastered walking with a diaper on. A first she would do this funny high step walk on her tiptoes. Reminding me of a show horse with her long, long legs.

We are both lavishing her with attention and hugs and kisses to the top of her sweet head. Her food is soft and high in caloric content, so she eats in the bathroom behind a closed door. She was never one to fight for her food, she would just back away and let Bo have it. She probably has the best disposition of my herd of pets.

Kevin has discovered the tails of his mates and will play endlessly with Toni's, her being the fluffiest. She just sits there swishing her tail for him until she tires of the game and slips away for a nap.

Today will be much like yesterday and the day before. I was chatting with my baby girl one morning when I opened the microwave to discover the splatters of tomato sauce all over the inside. Having just thoroughly cleaned it and my stove, I was not happy. To clean it requires a stepstool for me (short people), and my right hand has refused to close into a fist or to hold a cleaning cloth. I still did an excellent job with my left hand. I told her that her Dad had made a mess in it. She said, "Mom, you have to make him clean up his own messes! it is the only way he will learn." Sage wisdom on child-rearing, but her Dad is a grown man! She employs this technique with her husband and is known to lament that she married her Dad.

I did make him clean his mess up and he only had to re-do it once! So, maybe he will learn to clean up after himself? Oh, who am I kidding?