Laid Up (Sorta) (Written May 8, 2011)

Back on Saturday, April 30, last day of that soggy month, I was coming up the trail through the Tulip Poplars of the state park. I thought there was something sitting in the middle of the path, but as I neared it turned out to be a rock that had rolled out of place. Then I saw movement beyond this big stone that I first mistook for a dog, then realized it was a fox. He saw me and stopped. We stared at each other. He then trotted off the trail, through the brush and into a field just beyond a stone wall. I didn't have my camera out, so I missed taking his picture.

He was a beautiful specimen of a fox, too. I was a bit flummoxed by the encounter; that is, coming upon a fox in daytime, especially coming down a path so near the parking lot. But he crossed the field, then stood in a picnic grove looking back at me looking at him.

I do not know if meeting a fox in the morning is a bad omen, but that was my last walk for a week. By Saturday night I was limping in agony as Mr. Arthur Itis came on the attack.

I had been free from any severe arthritis for quite awhile, but suddenly it seemed determine to make up for loss time. It had actually begun its assault earlier that week, with a constant burning along the side of my left foot. It was annoying and caused me to list over with a limp, but I could endure that. I was still making my regular walks on my off-from-work days and not suffering too greatly at work.

That quite changed that Saturday night. Besides the remaining burn on my left, I now found my fingers somewhat frozen, meaning they creaked and ached when I tried to make a fist, but worse of all, the broken-glass grinding of arthritis settled hard into my right ankle and top of foot. I was in deep and constant agony. I could not get comfortable in bed to sleep, I could not bear the pressure of stepping down on that foot.

Life does not call time out for the afflicted. Despite my suffering I had to work on Monday, even though I thought for a bit I would have to go barefoot as I attempted to press into my shoe. Somehow I managed, somehow I survived and came home to collapse and moan and groan about my fate.

Thus it was all this week. I was either in agony or groggy with lack of sleep. I felt like doing nothing, thus no writing got done on this blog for several days now. I worked on my genealogy, for it took the less effort.

So I missed all my walks, although I missed no work.

I kept my cat company as Kerouac, the youngest, is also laid up this week. Yes, he had reached the age when he faced the fate of such cats -- neutering and vaccinations. It seemed a routine thing, he being a male. A bit of snip-snip I suppose, but it became complicated.

First they found he had a heart-mummer, just like the Old Goat. I was born with a heart mummer. They nearly didn't do the operation because of this, but in the end they did.

The real problem was one of his testicles was inside his body, thus they had to perform surgery, cut him open and go after it. Now he is home, with some stitches and a tattoo and an inverted lampshade on his head for two weeks. He must be isolated from the other cats, no running, jumping, roughhouse or swimming. Well, the swimming isn't a problem.

At any rate, he doesn't understand this being kept alone in the computer room, let alone this silly collar about his head.  I feel for him as he tries to groom himself and can only lick the inside of the plastic or tries to scratch his neck only to come claw to collar and get no satisfaction.

As for me, most of the pain left me this morning. I had two walks today. Maybe I will sleep well tonight.
Meanwhile my little buddy must wait another week for his own renewal of freedom.