4 November 2011


There’s a touch of Normal-itis going on around here today.

The 19 lb cat, though he has a bald patch on his back, has stopped licking. Apparently he had fleas, and is on medication. For the first time in weeks, he’s back to purring like a giant engine, lying on top of bodies, and smothering us while we sleep.

Sunshine and a Latte
Jed’s stitches came out and he’s walking around as thought he owns the neighborhood. Still sporting an undershirt (‘cus he scratches) he prances along the sidewalk soaking up admiring glances. The local crossing guard waits for our arrival, and as a greeting, hoists his ‘Stop’ sign across his substantial belly and sings ‘You Ain’t Nothing but a Hound Dog.” Only in Leslieville does one get admired for wearing a wife-beater shirt out in public.

Jim is busy bringing home the bacon, but returns at night to a calmer home. When the back door opens, the pets run to greet him. Two clumsy bodies for the price of one - that is Jim’s Happy Hour.

I’ve finally calmed down, (now that’s it been a week since treatment), to a near-ish normal level of lunacy.  No more putting milk in the cupboard, or wondering if I’ve shrieked, rather than  spoken, into the phone. Also, I had a massage yesterday, and feel like I left some of the crazy on the table.

Last night Jed and I made a triumphant return to the dog park. Jed sprang thorough the gate as though he’d just spotted a meadow full of badgers.  I was wearing my wig and cap, and I sidled over to my one friend who knows about my Bald-itis. It had been a while since I’d been in, and most people associate me with short hair, rather than the chin length bob that I was sporting. I told my friend I was bracing myself for comments. She laughed and said not to worry, “Everyone here is too self-absorbed to notice.”

Basset Bum


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