Typing With Wet Claws: Special Caregiving Edition

Hello, all. Skye here, filling in for Anty, because she is busy taking care of Uncle. He had to go to the people vet on Tuesday. I can only imagine how difficult it was getting him in the carrier. When I have to go in the carrier, it takes Mama and Anty both to get me in there, because I know what is coming and I want to hide. One of them will turn the carrier up on its end and the other one chases me around until they can catch me and put me in headfirst. Human carriers are huge (and noisy) and Uncle is also big, so this cannot be an easy task. Maybe Anty could throw a hamburger or a bottle of Coke in there to see if he will go in on his own first.

Uncle had to stay at the people vet overnight, which I did not like. First, because he was not here, and second, because Anty smelled really really tired. She does not do her bet writing when she is very very tired (although she was rather proud of filling the last pages of her white pocket Moleskine notebook while waiting at the people vet with Uncle and thus got to start a new pocket sized book) and there is not a lot of time when there are sick-people things to do. The people vets said Uncle could come home on Wednesday, so Anty had to go help get him back in the carrier and get him back home. There were new pills to help him get better (people flu is not a good thing) and, although I was concerned that he might have to wear the cone of shame, thankfully, he did not. Maybe that is because he did not need any stitches. Flu generally does not require a lot of stitches, at least as far as I can tell. It does, however, require him to get a lot of sleep. This does not, however, translate to a lot of sleep for Anty.

It also makes Anty cranky because the library book she was reading and is almost done with is in the bedroom, and she does not want to wake Uncle by opening the door to get her book. I must make a confession here; I would try to get in if she did open the door, and I would not make any noise, so she would not know I was there. I would be happy to be near Uncle, but not happy to be away from my water bowl (that is in another room) or my food bowl (in the same room as the water bowl; they are neighbors.) I do not have to mention poop, because we are all adults here. At least, I assume that we are. Anty would figure out, when she looked up from her glowy box (or maybe when she realized her inspiration is much lower than usual, due to the absence of her mews) that I was in there, and she would have to open the door again. That would not be good for anybody, except for me, because then I would get food.

Anty (and sometimes Mama) has been doing a lot of getting food lately. She needs to get food Uncle will eat, and then she will remember she hasn’t eaten, and does not feel like cooking, so that is time to go find some food that is already made. Thankfully, there are a lot of places to buy already-made people food around here. That is a good thing.

It may seem that there is not a lot of time for writing in the middle of all the extra work that comes with taking care of a sick human, even without a cone of shame, but that is not true. Anty finds going into her story worlds is not an escape exactly (she does have to come back; the other stuff is still there when she comes back from story world) but a respite, and puts her in a better mood so that she can better do what needs to be done. This is one of the reasons why she carries around multiple notebooks at one time, but not the only one.

That is the thing about some writers (or maybe just Anty; I know some other writers, but not all of them) – even when life outside of writing gets crazy, they cannot turn off the voices in their heads. Anty does not mind this. It is nice to have company like that. The fact that these people live in her head does not mean they are not real. They still have lives to live, and sometimes, they will drop a tidbit on her while she is doing other things, for her to write down now and explore later. Anty does not mind this, because it keeps an oar in the water, as she puts it, no matter what else is going on. For now, she is spending time with notebooks and on her glowy box while Uncle is sleeping. It keeps her from getting lonely, and, of course, she has me.

It is her turn for the glowy box again, so I will give it back to her. Tomorrow, she should be picking up her new tablet, which I think does look like a cat-sized computer. I am still not convinced she is not really getting me my own computer. I will keep you posted, and see you all tomorrow for our regular blog.

Until then, I remain very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

See you Friday....

See you Friday….


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