The Long And Skinny Of It

 

          The long and skinny of it this week is a reference to the format of this week’s photos. A ride through the country on roads I’ve never been on before has yielded a plethora of landscapes. I cropped out the sky and foreground to showcase what I was showing you.

          The rest of the photos I left in the original 3:2 format.

          “Why did you go on new roads?” you ask.

          Oh, gosh! Maybe I should’ve started with the only bit of real news I have this week and that would explain why we were on new roads.

          Spitfire.

          When we moved here full time in 2016 I found three kittens in the bottom of a thirty-gallon trash can and they couldn’t get out. They were old enough to be weaned and near as I could tell, the mama hadn’t brought them any food for a while. They were really hungry and their nest was dirty.

          I got them into a kennel and within a few days had them tamed down.

          Spitfire is the only one left from this litter. His brother Rascal died from a blocked bladder a few years later and his sister Cleo disappeared after I’d had her fixed.

          A few days ago I was at the stove and heard a rustling sound coming from the utility room. I looked and there was Spitfire. He climbed up on the bag of recyclables, looked me right in the eye, and pissed.

          I tossed him outside and cleaned up the mess.

          The next morning, I was at the computer and heard a noise. I got up and looked and there was Spitfire, up on the counter, pissing on my pile of recipes. Luckily, the recipe on top was in a plastic sleeve. I got a baggie and dumped the pee in it.

          When the vet opened I was lucky enough to get in that morning on someone else’s cancelation. The only problem was I had a dental appointment at the same time. The cat’s health was more important than my dental cleaning so I canceled the dentist appointment. Someone else will get lucky enough to have my spot there that day.

          The vet said there was blood in his urine but no sign of infection. He had crystals in his urine but whether they are present in his bladder or formed after he peed is something she can’t tell. She’d have to have a very fresh sample to know that for sure. Spitfire has two broken teeth.

          “I knew something was wrong,” I told her. “He’s refusing to eat hard food. When his cries become insistent, I break down and give him a second can of soft cat food.”

          The cats always start the day with canned food. I divide a can and a half between five cats. The other half I save for the next day. At more than eighty cents a can for Friskies, it adds up fast.

          The vet said that antibiotics are seldom called for in cases like Spitfire’s but she would give him a shot if I wanted. I did. I figured it wouldn’t hurt and maybe it’ll help.

          “Considering his broken teeth, it’s probably best to give him a shot anyway,” she agreed.

          The only other treatment for this is to make sure he’s drinking enough water.

          “I can give him some under-the-skin hydration. Water down his soft food into a slurry and warm it up for him,” she suggested. “The warmth releases the smell making it more appealing to cats.”

          She also gave me ten days of Gabapentin to make him more comfortable.

          “Keep an eye on him and make sure he’s urinating. If he stops, you need to get him back in here,” she concluded.

          I have one cat condo and right now it’s Sugar’s winter home. She gets sick when she’s out in the winter so we bring her in.

          I had no other choice but to turn Raini’s kennel into temporary housing for Spitfire. It was barely big enough for a small cat pan and a bed.

        I had a dish that attaches to the side of the wire kennel. The bowl has an ear on the bottom the turns and locks into place on the base. I used that for his water.

          Early, early the next morning I heard Spitfire crying. I didn’t get up. When I did I saw he had a wet bed. He’d rubbed against the dish or pulled it or somehow got it off its base and dumped into his bed. Poor kitty.        

          I got Spitfire out and got him a dry bed. I got him his breakfast and medicine and put him back away.

          On a whim I went to Facebook Marketplace and typed in “cat condo.” Up came a picture of exactly what I was looking for. It had just been posted a couple of hours before, was forty-five dollars, and not far away. I contacted the lady and made arrangements to pick it up that morning.

          Even though it was a Meshoppen address, and we go through Meshoppen all the time on our way to Tunkhannock, it wasn’t near Meshoppen. We had to go up through South Auburn to a blip in the road named Retta. And that, my loves, is how we came to be on roads we’ve never been on before.

          The long and skinny photos weren’t the only ones I took. Here are some more from that excursion.

          I had to do a little rearranging but I found a place to put the new cat condo. I draped a cloth over it to give him more privacy and keep out some of the light—make it more den-like. I’m sure Spitfire will be more comfortable in it than he was in Raini’s kennel. I know Raini is happy to have her kennel back. She goes in there several times a day to nap.

          I made something this week that I haven’t made in months.

“What’s that?” you ask.

Tortillas. I love homemade tortillas. They’re easy to make and take only a few simple ingredients. Flour, salt, oil, and water.

          “What do you use them for?” you wanna know.

          My latest kick is to make a breakfast rollup with them. I’ll scramble an egg, fry it flat, add a fourth of a piece of breakfast sausage, roll it in aluminum foil and freeze it. For breakfast I’ll put it in the microwave for a minute or so, top with a spoonful of salsa and I have a breakfast that was fast and easy.

          This time I made a double batch of tortillas. I planned to have tacos the next day. Plus, I’ll eat one or two right off the griddle. They taste way better than store bought tortillas.

          I was surprised that I didn’t set off the smoke detector because I got my cast iron skillet a little hotter than I should have. I smoked up the whole house and it stunk for two days.

          One of the most favorite gifts that I’ve ever received is a set of colorful silicone sleeves for my cast iron pans. To cook tortillas you have to have the pan really hot and cook them in just a minute or two. If you cook them too slow you end up with a tough little cracker that’s too hard to eat and you have to throw them all away. Don’t ask me how I know that.

          They’re also good to make a personal pizza with. A little sauce, some onions, green peppers, fresh spinach, top with a little mozzarella and pop in the toaster oven for ten minutes or so. You could put ham or sausage on it if you wanted but I usually just have mine vegetarian.

 

          “How’s your cold?” you ask.

          After missing church for two weeks, I think I’ll go this Sunday. I think I’m mostly over it, and I don’t believe I’m contagious, but I do have a lingering cough.

          Mike decided to share in the joy and picked up my cold. He’s miserable with a cough and sore throat. His eyes hurt whereas mine never did. I expect it’ll have to run its course and he’ll be better in a week or so. DayQuil and NyQuil are our friends.

 “How’s Miss Rosie?” you ask.

She doesn’t seem to be much better and she’s almost done with her antibiotics. If she’s not better by Monday I expect she’ll go back to the doctor for a different antibiotic to treat her bronchitis. 

 

          With that, let’s call this one done.

          Done!