Our first 2018 non-holiday weekend edition of Let Sleeping Dogs Lie & Napping Cats Nap is dedicated to anyone who has ever been surprised by an ailment and been diligently tended to by a cat or dog or both.
Yeah, lately I’ve been “laid up,” as we used to say in the pre-computer era. I waited more than a half-century to injure my back in a fall [In 1968, I fell down a flight of garage apartment stairs into the landlady's flower garden, but that's a story for another time and I only twisted an ankle and ripped by britches.]
Anyone who’s ever been unable to crawl out of the bed because of injury or illness (darned that flu and my heart goes out to anyone fighting it), knows how comforting it is to reach over for the TV remote and, instead, grab a handful of cat hair or chubby dog back.
That’s what I’ve been doing. This is Deputy Chief Kitty Leigh Johnson on a nearby pillow. [That's her exquisitely marked face -- like something out of National Geographic staring across a jungle opening.] She works the “nap shift” with me -- I nap because I can’t sleep on a regular schedule -- it’s almost like insomnia.
Porche Noel is usually next to me no matter what time of day or night, but this week, as I tested my stability, I wandered through the living room and found Kittie Leigh on the back of the couch in Porche’s usual place. And Porche had shoved herself between Earl the Rottie and the back of the couch. They paid no attention to my cane clumping along.
That last photo has been recently posted on this website -- I'm posting it again because it makes me smile -- my dog Porche looks exactly like a State Fair momma pig on display between judging events. Mercifully, she is spayed so we don't have to worry about waking up to Porche and a dozen piglets crowding me out of the bed.
My Long-sufferingSpouse Martha, who has endured two back surgeries and who currently is defeating an upper respiratory ailment, is cheerful enough to fix meals for me -- I can’t stand long enough at the oven to make a two-minute egg. Toast becomes a challenge. The microwave requires reaching up and that is too painful to accomplish. I can get ice cream out of the refrigerator, but, well, I shouldn't.
Martha has a heart the size of the moon which, of course, I think she hung.
Now, time for me to return to a heating pad, one dog and a cat. I hope to dream of my renewed ambitions of dancing with the Radio City Music Hall Rockettes next fall. Sorry, didn't mean to use the word "fall." Next autumn.
[REMEMBER, send photos of your slumbering comforters to email@example.com and we’ll post them in our long-running weekend feature Let Sleeping Dogs Lie & Napping Cats Nap. We do this to encourage people to open their hearts and homes to animals who will love them and care for them in return for air-conditioning in summer and a good television with a satellite hook-up. Animals don’t ask for much. And, of course, neither do insomniacs. We just need some sleep.]
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