Fingers and Toes

It's been more than a week since I wrote here. Things are pretty much status quo. Some nights we play musical feeding dishes. One night, I made no effort at all to feed either of them; just sat on the couch watching TV while the two cats roamed around, munching dry food. There was no hissing, no fighting. Another night, I put on gardening gloves to protect my hands, just in case I had to pick up a certain kittycat.

The day I took Shadow to the vet, which was Sept. 15 (hey, a month ago), she scratched my finger as I tried to grab her out from under the heat register in the bathroom. I put hydrogen peroxide and Neosporin on it right away, and a Band Aid, but sitting in the vets' waiting room several hours later, I noticed it was really sore.

This evolved into a visit two days later to my doctor, who told me to always see an M.D. when a cat scratches you. She said it was infected, and I must soak it in Betadine solution for 20 minutes, several times a day. Bacitracin is preferred over Neosporin, she said, so the cut stays open to let it drain, if it needs to drain. OK, that was taken care of without need of antibiotic.

When I got to my doctor's office, her assistant volunteered her opinion of my feral cat: Have her euthanized. I was pretty shocked, and, no, I am not planning to kill her.

The other night Shadow got me on the side of one toe! It wasn't her fault. I unintentionally sneaked up on her when she was eating in the kitchen, she sensed or heard me coming (I was wearing rubber flip-flops, pretty quiet, if you ask me, but she has really good hearing.) She did a panicked run, her claws scrabbling on the tiles. For a second I thought she was going to run between my feet, but one nail grazed a toe on my left foot. It hurt a little bit yesterday, so this a.m. I poured some peroxide on it. It foamed up, so, I guess there were some germs, but nowhere near as many as she had a month ago.

I so admire the little feral. One morning I was in a hurry to leave for work, but had to move my son's girlfriend's car for alternate side parking. I had been in the midst of cleaning Shadow's litter box, so I left it on the wooden chair by the front living room window, through which I had glimpsed the empty parking spot right in front of my apartment. Rushed off to catch the bus, forgetting to set the box back on the floor.

That night, I found she had used her box. I couldn't imagine how she had managed to balance, in the box, on the chair. Such a good girl! I praised her a lot.

This morning when I left for work, after three glorious days off, little Shadow jumped up on my bed and made herself comfortable. I was pretty fearful of what Bella would do, but left the house anyway because I didn't want to be late.

I work for the City of New York, and they make a very big deal about punctuality.