Molly Cat is acting strangely

I am not sure that Molly takes to an abundance of visitors. We have been blessed, this Christmas, with some wonderful company. My brother and his wife came for the festivities. They arrived on Christmas Eve in time for lunch, and left after Boxing Day lunch. However, very sensibly, they elected not to stay here. I have a spacious two-bed-roomed flat, but it really is too small for three adults and one cat. There is a very nice hotel about ten minutes walk away, and they stayed there. It worked perfectly. It meant that we had the pleasure of each others' company, but that we still had our own space. They came and went, and I was able to retire for rests without feeling guilty. Altogether, a splendid affair (except for the food - but that will be the subject of a separate post).

Molly, however, was not altogether sure. She took some time to get used to them being here so often, and seemed a little put out. Nevertheless, she got used to them and became almost sociable by the end. What, I think, she had not bargained for, was a constant stream of visitors after that. People popped in for tea, coffee, drinks, nibbles. I had friends to supper yesterday. I thoroughly enjoyed it (despite getting progressively more tired). She, I think, did not.

This morning, she behaved in a most peculiar manner. At about 06.45 I was dragged from slumber by the sound of Molly howling. I called her. She ignored me. I called her again. No response. I reluctantly got up and went to look. She seemed fine. There were no obvious signs of distress. I fed her, in case she was hungry, and went back to bed. Five minutes later, she started howling again. She would not come to me, she ignored my calls, she just howled. And then she started bringing me her toys. I was NOT going to play at this time of the morning. I snuggled down and ignored her. Eventually, she went to sleep. Very odd. She has never done anything like that before.

We were planning a quiet evening tonight, but some dear friends returned to Nottingham and it was the perfect moment to catch up. The arrangement was made rather late in the afternoon, and I got engrossed in the cooking. It wasn't until I got the lasagne into the oven that I thought to feed Molly. Unfortunately, this pretty well coincided with my friends' arrival.

Molly does not like being watched while she eats, not even by me. She does not like noise and disturbance. My friends have two boys aged two (my Godson) and one. They are delightful, but they are boys of that age. Molly retired, disgruntled, to the study. She refused to come back and did not eat. I felt guilty. I should have fed her earlier.

My friends have left. I so loved having them, and seeing how the boys had changed in the intervening five months (I would not let them come when I was very susceptible to infection). Molly is, after all, a cat. But she is MY cat, and I love her. I'll make sure I feed her early next time.

And let's see what happens tomorrow morning.

WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO GO VIRAL?

I try. Really, I try. I write what I believe to be entertaining and well-written posts. I try and write regularly, although when I have been unwell this has not always happened. But, with the best will in the world, 33 views cannot be described as viral. What am I doing wrong?

There are some things I know I'm missing. I don't write about sex, for a start. Well, would you? I'm almost 60. I live alone. I am hugely overweight, not helped by the steroids (legal ones) and the lack of exercise over the last five months. My body has just been poisoned. What sex?

I don't do drugs - well, not illegal ones anyway, and I doubt if anybody would be interested in the pleasures of anti-sickness pills, or the variability between cytotoxic drugs. Even if they were, I want to put all that behind me. As for the alcohol, all I am prepared to say is that there is no truth to the suggestion that you have to give it up during chemotherapy.

Rock and roll? Never, I'm afraid. Not even in my not very mis-spent youth. I always preferred the classics and the opera. Indeed, I could bore on for England about the opera. Do you remember Bernard Levin's brilliant columns in the Times, in days of yore? Would that I had that level of ability. His description of the disaster at Wexford had me sobbing with laughter (it is the last chapter in one of his books, if you haven't read it).

I'm not consistent. I think this may be a mistake. However, I would be bored writing about the same thing all the time, so I flutter about. Too bad.

I suspect I am too polite and too grammatically correct. Well, I'm sorry, but I grew up worrying about the placement of a comma. I cannot bear the mis-placed apostrophe. I got three copies of Lynne Truss's 'Eats, Shoots and Leaves' when it came out, and I still chuckle over the title. (I gave two of them away - I hope the recipients found them educational, although I have seen no evidence of this).

So, what to do? Well, I fear I am just going to keep plugging away, much helped by Molly Cat, and hope that something gives. In the mean time, she sends her love.

Molly Cat can turn off the Computer

I can hear the guffaws, the ridicule, as people read the title. Poor lass, she's really lost it: thinks her cat is a genius and she's clearly mad. She's turned into one of those mad cat ladies.

"Not at all", I reply with dignity, "it is all perfectly understandable. Belay your scepticism. Pocket your ridicule. Listen to the facts."

The facts are as follows. My computer and all it's 'gadgets' are connected to the mains through one of those extension plugs with a surge protector. It also has a switch, so the whole thing can be switched off. This lives behind the little cabinet at the side of my computer, upon which resides a basket with all my scrap paper. It is very useful. Recently, Molly has taken to sitting in that basket and pawing at the door to my computer cupboard, which is between us. I ignore her for a while, but inevitably succumb and look around the door, tickle her chin and talk to her for a while before returning to work. A few days ago I did this, but clearly did not spend long enough with her. She made a grumbly noise, then jumped down behind the cabinet. Fortuitously (for her) she landed on the extension plug switch and everything (computer, printer, router etc.) switched off. I was mystified for  a moment, then reached down to see if the plug had got disconnected. In so doing, I lifted Molly Cat and gave her a little cuddle. BAD MISTAKE.

I don't think that would have been enough, but two days later she again jumped down behind the cabinet. Although she did not turn the switch off, the movement was enough to turn off the computer. My response was: "Molly, what are you doing? Get out of there" and to pick her up. You see the error? This was positive reinforcement. I did not realise it at the time. It was about two days later that I was ignoring her demands for attention. She jumped down. I responded as before. She has done it twice since.

i do not think this is coincidence. I think she has learned from my bad response that jumping down behind the cabinet gets her attention. I am now trying to ignore it when this happens. Anybody else have a cat who can turn off their computer?

This week I had a tattoo

Now, I never thought I would be saying that, but it's true. On Tuesday, I had two tattoos. Me!!! I arrived and was asked to wait. I sat, rather nervously, in the waiting room, until I was called in to the room. Then they did it.

Alright, I'll 'fess up. This was no ordinary tattoo. I went for my radiotherapy planning meeting. Nowadays, they use tattoos rather than pens. It seems to work rather better. So, what actually happened?

I arrived at the clinic a few minutes early. They were expecting me, professional, kind. I waited a few minutes, then a radiotherapist arrived to talk me through the procedures and ensure I was comfortable. So far so good.  A little while later, I was called into the radiotherapy room where they 'set you up' i.e. they make sure that all the lasers line up for your treatment. Good idea, and no problem - if you're a size 8!

They told me to sit on the table/couch and 'put my bottom between the two markers'. Huh! Not my bottom, I have to say. Considerable tweaking later, I was able to fit. Major embarrassment all round. The next stage was to lie back: I was just able to do that, but I dread to think about less able people. The radiographers can't help you - apparently, it is too risky to their backs and so not allowed. Quite right too.

Eventually, I was positioned. Now, my arm had to go into the relevant stirrup. I was grateful that I had kept the exercises up - no problem there. They told me to keep still, and they all disappeared. Suddenly, I started to move. Laser beams came at me. I wondered if I was taking part in a new Star Wars film. I kept breathing normally (that's what I was told to do) and hoped for the best. Apparently, it was fine. They returned.

"Get up" they said. I was lying flat, on a narrow 'bed'. I reached for a hand: 'not allowed'. It took a couple of goes, but I was quite pleased with myself. It will take about half an hour, they  said, then we can do the tattoos and you can go home. Not likely! Over an hour later, I was called back. However, I now have two tattoos (the size of pin heads) and I am set up for my first radiotherapy session. Watch this space.