Of Cats And Other Randomness.
Jul. 17th, 2019 11:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mama_kestrelAs previously noted, I spent the weekend with my oldest friend. Came home Sunday evening late, having waited out a thunderstorm part-way home sitting safely on the shoulder with my blinkers on. When I'm going 20 mph and still can barely see the road, it's past time to give up. My Sophia cat had been given her meds by spouse and son, so I was only mildly surprised that she didn't greet me. Her pain meds made her drowsy, as they do for many of us.
Monday morning my husband told me he'd fed and medicated her, and that I should go back to sleep. So it was moderately late when I came downstairs and greeted my mom and the Rocky-cat. Rocky quacked. (He does. He doesn't mew, he quacks.) Then came a series of urgent mews, the kind you get from a panicked cat, but quiet. It was Sophia. She's been very ill, but she apparently collapsed sometime between when my spouse fed her and the time I came down. As soon as she heard my voice, she started calling for help.
I picked her up, but didn't call the vet or take her over. There clearly wasn't time. I just sat in my rocker, with her on my chest, and held and stroked her. She stopped crying as soon as I had her; she'd accomplished her goal, which was to have me come get her. And after half an hour or so of being cuddled and petted, she just - left. No purrs, but it was clear she was where she wanted to be, head in the hollow of my shoulder, body resting in the curve of my arm, my voice talking to her quietly. telling her how much loved she was. My herd cat, my consumated mouser, my familiar who convinced spouse single-pawedly that he really was a cat person. As soon as the heat wave passes, I'll plant catnip by her grave. She's in a place my son can't get to easily to mow, so it's the perfect place for a mint.
Other things...home repairs continue apace. We're in week 4 and counting. Actually, we're taking this week off because it's too hot to work outside and most of the inside work is done. But what we thought was going to be a day's work at most as been magnified by all the things that got found in the process. Like the dishwasher installed without a ground. And the leak in a door that never made it inside because the wood absorbed it, rotting out in the process. Lots of new wood in there now, and the leak has been sealed and caulked. It's quite a list.
And a rather odd thought I can't shake in regard to the relationship between humans and Mother Earth in regard to climate change and the current extinction event.
The line between a symbiont and a parasite can be rather slender. E-coli in the human gut is a perfect example. It's always there. It's supposed to be. It helps with digestion, insulin production, and vitamin K production. But overgrowth or infection with an outside strain can cause severe illness.
We humans have crossed the line. A good symbiont helps its organism to thrive. A successful parasite may do its host some harm, but won't kill it because that would kill the parasite as well. I think one could make an argument that we humans have become an unsuccessful parasite on the planet. We're killing the ecosystem we depend upon for our own survival. And while individuals seem to understand this, collectively we're as mindless as any bacterial parasite. Not a very flattering picture, but there you go.
Monday morning my husband told me he'd fed and medicated her, and that I should go back to sleep. So it was moderately late when I came downstairs and greeted my mom and the Rocky-cat. Rocky quacked. (He does. He doesn't mew, he quacks.) Then came a series of urgent mews, the kind you get from a panicked cat, but quiet. It was Sophia. She's been very ill, but she apparently collapsed sometime between when my spouse fed her and the time I came down. As soon as she heard my voice, she started calling for help.
I picked her up, but didn't call the vet or take her over. There clearly wasn't time. I just sat in my rocker, with her on my chest, and held and stroked her. She stopped crying as soon as I had her; she'd accomplished her goal, which was to have me come get her. And after half an hour or so of being cuddled and petted, she just - left. No purrs, but it was clear she was where she wanted to be, head in the hollow of my shoulder, body resting in the curve of my arm, my voice talking to her quietly. telling her how much loved she was. My herd cat, my consumated mouser, my familiar who convinced spouse single-pawedly that he really was a cat person. As soon as the heat wave passes, I'll plant catnip by her grave. She's in a place my son can't get to easily to mow, so it's the perfect place for a mint.
Other things...home repairs continue apace. We're in week 4 and counting. Actually, we're taking this week off because it's too hot to work outside and most of the inside work is done. But what we thought was going to be a day's work at most as been magnified by all the things that got found in the process. Like the dishwasher installed without a ground. And the leak in a door that never made it inside because the wood absorbed it, rotting out in the process. Lots of new wood in there now, and the leak has been sealed and caulked. It's quite a list.
And a rather odd thought I can't shake in regard to the relationship between humans and Mother Earth in regard to climate change and the current extinction event.
The line between a symbiont and a parasite can be rather slender. E-coli in the human gut is a perfect example. It's always there. It's supposed to be. It helps with digestion, insulin production, and vitamin K production. But overgrowth or infection with an outside strain can cause severe illness.
We humans have crossed the line. A good symbiont helps its organism to thrive. A successful parasite may do its host some harm, but won't kill it because that would kill the parasite as well. I think one could make an argument that we humans have become an unsuccessful parasite on the planet. We're killing the ecosystem we depend upon for our own survival. And while individuals seem to understand this, collectively we're as mindless as any bacterial parasite. Not a very flattering picture, but there you go.
