Larenti quietly slept just outside the patio fence, her belly turned toward the sky in absolute comfort. She lay dappled with sunlight.
Then came the stretch.
After that, she congealed into a curly ball of fur that epitomized contentment.
Nary a moment will pass during these next few weeks when I can enjoy a bit of peace. Or rest, rather, if you must.
Grendel, Kazon, Loki, and Vazra must all pay homage to the gods of veterinary health by suffering through their annual examinations and vaccinations. Some are already due while others are rapidly approaching the same state. Beginning this Saturday and continuing through September 15, I will be ferrying felines betwixt home and vet on four of those weekend days.
Why not take them all in at once? Are you kidding?!?!? I’d never survive such an endeavor, at least not with all my limbs intact, so I shall forgo even attempting it and will instead continue on with my normal one-cat-per-visit approach. While I’d like to enjoy some financial leniency and the knowledge that all of them are done, subjecting them and myself to such terror will never happen. For their sake and mine.
And all the while, I have growing tasks at work that will consume more and more of my personal time. For example, unless plans change, I will work this weekend on a server migration project, and the first two weeks of September will be filled with late nights as I begin our implementation of a new monitoring and management system.
But the fun doesn’t end there, I’m afraid.
I find the year growing late too quickly to offer respite from my quest to relocate. Shelter and employment both must be secured in the near future. There is a financial incentive to make that happen prior to the end of September, yet I’m not foolish enough to believe it even possible.
Then there’s the planning and plotting for a successful adoption of Larenti. I will not leave her here when I move; therefore, it’s quite necessary to begin work on capturing her and getting her to the vet for a full examination. Unless her health poses a risk to The Kids (e.g., disease), she will then join the existing family for the remainder of her life. On the other hand, if she does in fact have some ailment that prohibits bringing her inside, she will be adopted as the sole outside cat—but only in a way post-move that keeps her safe from an alien environment and the many wilds and dangers that will surround us.
I must needs take another trip to the family farm soon. How soon I don’t know at present, but I do know it needs to happen before the end of September.
And the list goes on. . . Life offers days overflowing with responsibilities and nights too short for restful sleep. I must still make my way through this vexing obstacle course if I am to survive.
Larenti has become a permanent fixture on the patio. Rare is the time when she’s not out there. A great deal of her initial fear of people has disappeared when she’s around me, although she does on rare occasions still react with something akin to panic when I move my hands unexpectedly. It startles her in a way that makes clear she was abused by someone before she was thrown out to fend for herself.
I do intend to adopt her. It will take more time, and there is always the fear she carries some communicable and untreatable ailment that will pose a risk to the rest of The Kids. Should that wind up being the case, I will have to alter my plans to bring her inside—but I won’t alter my plans to adopt her. However, such an outcome would create a plethora of issues when I finally move away from Dallas. But one step at a time. . .
[Larenti enjoying some time with me during an unusually cool evening; I’ve already decided that, once finances support it, I’ll be adopting this marvelous yet still weary feline; I so despise her evident fear of humans, especially hands, and especially when they unexpectedly move near her face; no matter when I leave Dallas, she’ll be coming with me]
There remains no doubt in my mind that Larenti now trusts me a great deal more than she does any other human.
She spends most of her time on my patio.
She’s there nearly every morning when I wake up, at least 99% of the time.
She begs me for attention. All the time.
She talks to me readily, without reserve or hesitation, and responds immediately when I speak to her.
She is less afraid of me—especially my hands—than she was when I first met her years ago.
And she doesn’t twitch when I step out to the patio, even when she’s extremely comfortable.
Like this. . .
As I told xocobra in the past, if I were to rescue another cat, it would be Larenti.
Very little doubt remains that such a thing will happen.
And as I ponder moving away from Dallas, she increasingly becomes a focus of my endeavors, a loose end I may well have to address sooner rather than later.
I find it abhorrent to consider leaving her now… especially now that she has grown so accustomed to me, so trusting of me, so reliant on me.
I am the only human she has faith in.
There now exists an expectation between us, one that presumes I will not abandon her or hurt her, something I know her previous caregiver(s) did.