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| An exhausted Mico on a hot day. |
It probably isn't surprising with six animals, that you can almost guarantee that any one of them will have something wrong with it at any given time. Certainly seems to have been the case lately and this morning it was Mico's turn (again).
All the cats had gone out at first light. Quiet day, being Sunday and, by mid-morning the sun was out, the sky was clear and it was dry. I looked out of the kitchen window at about 10.30 to see Mico and Betty walking up the front path together. This is normal, where you find one, you usually find both (and wherever they are together there's usually trouble), so I went to the front door to let them in. (They could easily come in the back window that is left open for them.)
Given the fine weather, the absolute mystery relates to why Mico walked in sopping wet and covered in mud up to his armpits. So, I proceeded to give him a bed bath, which would give me the opportunity to inspect for damage at the same time. He growled and squealed and did not want to be handled, but I found only minor injuries, like grazes, on one front leg and the opposite shoulder. I don't think he's been fighting, because the dog usually advises me (noisily) of that, even if the caterwauling is right across the valley. The wetness would suggest that he might have fallen into some long grass and he does smell strongly of fennel, which most of the weed is made up of here. But cats "don't" fall into things and hurt themselves. They have perfect balance and, unlike toast, land the right way up!
Or do they? I can't work out what he's done. All I know is he is feeling VERY sorry for himself. Despite being "walking wounded", he obviously hurts all over and crawled off to spend most of the day sleeping it off. He just about got up the energy to walk three feet from the basket to the dish at dinner time and now he's curled up on my bed on the electric blanket. I laid him there and he stayed as he was put. And, yes, the "wife" (Betty) curled up with him, as usual.
When I got the ham out of the fridge - this is my trick for keeping them "obedient" - normally, Mico will come running and be one of the first to arrive, ready to bite my hand off for a sliver of ham (we are talking one slice shared between six), even if he were two fields away, without being called. He can hear the fridge door open and the rustle of aluminum foil from that distance. A mere two rooms away in the bedroom, poor lad was only "well enough" today to lift his head.
Previously, he had been flat out and fast asleep, but he was also "well enough" to eat his sliver of ham when I took it in to him! Well, we'll wait and see if he's as right as rain tomorrow (hopefully), as he was last time.
