Quick cat update

Thanks to all who offered counsel regarding the Christmas cat moving in with my mom, age 93. Your advice, except for one (my wise sister, Monette who said no way!) was "sure, bring it on!" more or less.  Then it all fell apart because 1) my mom took another fall in her apartment, and adding even the slightest risk would have been irresponsible, and 2) that whore of a cat disappeared for almost a week. He materialized  on our doorstep last night, visibly more sleek and well fed than the last time he was here. i went right into slave-to-whore-cat mode and whipped up his favorite meal—baked chicken drumstick. Sometimes you just have to go with the status quo and call it good.

To cat or not to cat—petting the elderly

My mom, 93, likes cats. The "Christmas cat" I mentioned in an earlier post likes her. He is a mellow guy, prone to long naps. When mom's here, he nestles into her lap and she strokes him. They both purr. She asks about him when he's gone. "Is everybody accounted for?" she inquires, looking for him when entering our home. He spends hours in her lap. The question: should this cat be her apartment mate? The arguments pro:

• The elderly are often lonely and bored  and pets help give them purpose and companionship. I can hear her talking to him as I write. She coos, "Oh, so you do move every once in awhile. Nice kitty."
• Cats are silky and responsive and nice to touch and feel. The elderly get precious little of "touchy, feely."
  
• Her residence encourages small pet ownership.
• She's open to the idea, but worries that she "can't take it outside," not realizing many cats are house cats only. Our cats, the only felines she's known as far as I know, have been inside/outside beings with a come-and-go-cat door. The last one, Rowdy, our favorite for about 10 years, disappeared one summer night. After sad and fruitless searching, we figured he was eaten by an owl, a coyote, a raccoon, a fox, or a cougar. Country life is not always kind to pets.
• Provision for litter-box clean-up, which is beyond her, can be arranged.
• We could always take the cat back and continue to share him around the neighborhood.

The primary argument con:

• The cat is black, especially difficult to see in the night-lighted darkness by a visually impaired elderly person. Cats are a tripping hazard. My mom is increasingly prone to falling. Cats are notorious for slithering around ankles and being in the way.

Since I started this post, I've witnessed the usually docile cat in manic mode, outside, flinging himself from tree trunk to tree trunk in our small orchard. He rushes one trunk, grabs it with all fours, clambers up, drops, and flings himself onto the next tree. We've also noticed carnage—a mole's head, long front teeth intact—in a puddle of slime on the back porch. Is it fair to ask an inside/outside neighborhood cat to convert to inside only? Or would we be doing him a favor by providing him with reliable warmth, companionship, and food?

But really, it's not about him. It's about her. Does the safety issue outweigh the pleasure of having a pet? What do you think? Many readers have expressed frustration when attempting to leave comments. (Why is that, Blogger?) Try my email: mkorbulic@gmail.com. Facebook friends, you can weigh in via our fave social network.  I appreciate your thoughts.

Things that make me glad in bleak mid-winter

Geraniums glowing in the solarium. 

A box of winter greens. 

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Wild turkeys alongside the road during a December bike ride.

  

Grandma LaVone enjoying grandson Chris'  adventures via the Kokotat blog.

PK's dried serrano peppers awaiting marriage with garlic and vinegar for superb chili garlic sauce.

 My first senior ski pass: Mt. Shasta, $15 a day!

Resolutions I have kept- and one for 2010

I thought I'd given up on the New Year's resolution  exercise, but I see not.

Why? Because despite my resistance, the topic compels me. I can't help it. In the recent past, I have made resolutions that I have actually kept, and some corrections in my trajectory transpired.

Here are some resolutions that worked. 

1. I bought nothing new for one year. (Not that difficult for somebody already attuned to Goodwill shopping, but it required some discipline. I still adhere in general, but respect and recognize the preference for unsoiled undergarments.)
2. I ate something from the garden every day. (So easy when surrounded by garden 9 months of the year. Pepper flakes, dried tomatoes, and lots of frozen corn in lean winter made this a snap.)
3. I kept a daily food journal. (Incredibly boring, but I will revisit for an occasional inspired recipes and periodic insights.)

No big deal on these. But they beat losing (and regaining) the same 10 pounds year after year. And they required daily thought and discipline.

Despite advancing age, I'm still figuring things out and recognize the role that resolutions fill in setting direction. Ta da! Here's THE 2010 resolution:

Figure out the difference between what I have to do and what I want to do and make necessary adjustments.  This has to do with juggling familial obligations and pleasures, volunteerism, paid work, and self-centered stuff—such as writing this blog and going for walks and bike rides and doing yoga and taking up art and on and on. Stay tuned.

Christmas cat

Cozy, yes? Nice kitty, all snuggled in my office chair with a cushy pillow and full belly. This is the cat we took in a couple weeks ago when temps hovered in the single digits and ice coated everything. He came prowling round our doorstep, mewling and pitiful. Cold! Hungry!
Oh, poor baby! Even though he was supposedly famished, he was finicky. Didn't like dry cat food. Didn't like canned cat food. (I should have known!) But he just LOVED those chicken drumsticks I baked for him. Yes, I BAKED for him, and then I continued to labor by separating the meat from the bones and the skin and so on. Cat-sized portions remain in the freezer.

But come to find out, this is an opportunistic animal, a neighborhood cat, who has now disappeared to more favored digs. Turns out he has at least three homes that welcome him, and all within shouting distance, plus the home where he "belongs," which is apparently not acceptable. I'm not sure why, but I hear they have an unfriendly dog. They're missing out. This is a sweet cat that enters your home and claims the territory. He drapes over furniture, rubs along legs, and stands by the door in a mannerly fashion when he needs to exit to do his business.
Why did we take him in? One, we like cats. and two, we stared directly into his pleading eyes and believed he needed our help. I think most people are like that. If you can see a being —person, or animal, that is clearly in jeopardy, and you are in a solitary position to help, then you will. It's not like the shared responsibility we have for beggars with "will work for food" signs whose eyes you avoid, and who are ignored by most people in passing cars, and whose plight you figure somebody else will address. And whose motives you may question.

But when it's just you and a suffering (supposedly) being, and you are the only person who can alleviate the situation, what do you do? Most people open the door or the wallet.  I know I do.

All those mailed appeals with photos of children with cleft palates and hideous living conditions and polio and so on, not to mention the puppy mills and chained starving animals, attempt to duplicate the impact of beings who are suffering right before our eyes. Local newspapers at Christmas time highlight pathetic story after pathetic story of "friends in need" and the community responds with an outpouring of cash and goods and trips to Disneyland. But nothing quite rivals the domestic animal who shows up on your doorstep on a frigid night looking for a way in. Unless it could be a child fleeing abuse or neglect. Can you imagine a terrified child trembling at your door? Could you turn her away? I couldn't. But I'm afraid I ignore some of the most plaintive appeals from the most worthy non profits because I just can't take it all on. But give me a cat on a cold night? You're in, baby.