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Summer Columbo

Posted in Columbo with tags , on May 22, 2010 by telescoper

People keep asking me how Columbo is getting on and I realise it’s been ages since I posted an update, so I thought I’d take the opportunity afforded by the fine weather to take a few snaps in the garden and put them on here. It’s actually 26 degrees in the shade as I post this, which is warm enough for Columbo to see refuge behind the Forsythia. It can’t be much fun having to wear a fur coat in this weather.

I took Columbo to the vet yesterday for a six-monthly check up during which they took a blood sample to test his blood sugars. There was only one vet on duty yesterday so there was a long wait to get into the consulting room during which time lots of people with dogs arrived. It was also very warm, with the result that both dogs and owners were a bit tetchy because of the delay. I was a bit worried when a rather nasty-looking pit bull came in, thinking he might take an unhealthy interest in Columbo’s box, but he confined himself to having a go at one of the other dogs and was banished to the car park.

Columbo wasn’t at all bothered by the heat and noise. In fact I could hear him purring in his box. He likes this vet more than any other I can remember, and when we did get called in he continued to purr, at least until they took the blood sample.

I hadn’t seen this particular vet before, but she had all his notes. Columbo turned 16 in March this year, but he’s still doing pretty well especially when you consider he’s been diabetic for the last 5 years or so and has needed special food and twice-daily injections of insulin. He’s showing his age a bit and has slowed down quite a bit, but still has his moments. He’s taken on quite a bit of ballast since the last visit – at 7.35 kilos he’s quite a heavyweight – but the vet said that she wasn’t very worried about that given his age. He’s always been a bit greedy and if he ever lost his appetite that would be a bad sign.

I have to wait for the blood works to come back before we know whether his insulin dose needs changing, so there’s no news on that. However, there is one development since his last visit. The vet last time wasn’t sure, but after yesterday’s examination this vet was pretty certain that he has a bit of arthritis. I’ve notice he has pretty stiff legs from time to time, which don’t seem to cause any pain, but they do stop him jumping onto the kitchen table. Anyway, he’s been started on glucosamine tablets now. It’s not a big deal as I take glucosamine myself. I’ve got knackered legs too, you see.

One of the effects of his weight and arthritis is that he finds it a little difficult to groom himself all over, so I have to give him a good going over with a metal brush. He likes this on his head and upper body, but isn’t very happy when I brush his belly or hind quarters. Given the season, loads of hair comes off on the brush and without this he’d get a bit matted and moth-eaten.

Anyway, that’s all for now. He’s basically doing fine and, as you can see from the first picture, despite the advancing years he’s still a handsome chap!

POSTSCRIPT 24th May. Got the blood results back. They’re fine. Back to the vet in 6 months.

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New Cats on the Block

Posted in Columbo with tags , on February 25, 2010 by telescoper

Having a slightly later than usual breakfast this morning, I noticed two feline intruders in the garden. I’ve never seen either of them before so it was quite a shock.

One of them was a stunningly sleek black cat with spectacular orange-coloured eyes. This one is clearly a very cool animal, sitting elegantly on the shed roof  and surveying the scene below with apparent disdain. The other one was totally different: a tortoiseshell  with white patches, young and quite slightly built, with a small face but big ears and a very large nose. Most comically of all, cat number two had disproportionately large feet to the extent that she (?) looked like she was wearing white boots.  I went out to try to take a picture, but they both did off like greased lightning as soon as I went outside.

Columbo didn’t pay them much attention, so maybe they’re regular visitors and I only noticed them this morning because I’m on a different routine, heading off to the airport instead of going to work. I’m sure if they went anywhere near his food it would be a different story.

Anyway, this little episode reminded me to let Columbo’s many admirers know that he’s doing fine. He’s spending more time outside now that the worst of the winter appears to be over (?) and seems to be in good spirits. I promise to post some pictures when I get back. I know I’ve promised before but I keep forgetting.

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Christmas Cats

Posted in Columbo with tags , on December 30, 2009 by telescoper

Since the end of the year is drawing near and I’m not in the mood for writing anything strenuous, I thought I’d post a short update about Columbo. When I went up to Newcastle on Christmas Eve I left him in the capable hands of an expert pet-sitter, who obviously took good care of him as he was in fine fettle when I arrived back on 27th December. He’s since returned to his routine of eating and sleeping and appears to be well.

 

He’s going to be 16 on March 31st 2010, which is pretty old for a tom cat. It’s hard to believe he’s been with me for so long. Alhough he’s slowed down quite a bit over the years, he still has his moments as you can see from the picture above, which I found yesterday on my old mobile phone. It shows the scene of a recent crime, although the perpetrator appears to have made no attempt to effect a getaway. Judging by the squashed state of the decedent, I’d say the cause of death might well have been being sat on. Columbo hasn’t caught many mice or other rodents and hasn’t made much attempt to eat them on those rare occasions when he has managed to nab one. This particular victim is still basically in one piece, although clearly it has seen the last of its days.

Back in Newcastle I had the chance to see again the three cats that employ my mum to look after them. They’re all female cats, very small and dainty ones, and I’d guess that if you added them together they still wouldn’t weigh as much as Columbo. The oldest one is called Lucy, and she’s also the friendliest and most communicative. She’s also particularly fond of shoelaces. Then there’s Tilly and Daisy, who are much quieter. There’s a curious kind of hierarchy of power amongst them though, because Lucy is quite scared of Daisy who must be the boss of the house.  I couldn’t help wondering how Columbo would have got on had I taken up there to see them all. There would have been skin and hair flying, of course but, although he’s a big galoot, I wouldn’t put money on him winning a fight against any other cat no matter how small. He’s too much of a softie.

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Les Feuilles Mortes

Posted in Biographical, Columbo with tags , , , on November 16, 2009 by telescoper

After the strain of writing a long post about something halfway interesting yesterday, as well as spending most of today at work composing and sending out  umpteen letters of recommendation for various people’s job applications, I haven’t got the energy to write very much today. However, I was reminded at the weekend that it’s been a while since I posted anything about Columbo.

It’s almost two months in fact since I took the moggy to the vets to have another blood sample extracted, although I think he extracted more from the vet and her assistant than they got from him. They phoned me a day or two later to say that his blood sugar levels were fine and he didn’t need to go back for six months or so.

We’ve settled back into normality, except that I’m keeping a specially close eye on his food intake since the vet declared him officially obese. He’s lost about 350g since he’s been on the current diet, so it’s working. He’s more affectionate too, at least when it’s time for the grub. Cupboard love, I think it’s called.

After a couple of generally fine and temperate months in September and October, we’ve suddenly hit a patch of decidedly inclement weather this November. Over the weekend a fairly intense storm passed over the UK, heavy rainfall causing floods here and there and high winds causing problems in a number of areas. Cardiff is fairly sheltered so the winds didn’t do much serious damage here – at least not that I noticed – apart from bringing down what was left of the leaves on the trees in the surrounding streets and in the park. The effect of the pouring rain on the fallen leaves has been to produce an unpleasant slippy  brown sludge on the paths and pavements.

Columbo has a bit of a thing about windy days and leaves. He always seems to enjoy going out into the garden when it’s blowing a gale. He gets very skittish and chases things about as if he were a youngster again. Well, for a few minutes at least. The recent storms have curtailed this fun a bit. I don’t think there’s much excitement in playing with a pile of soggy leaves stuck to the ground compared to nice dry ones floating in the air.

Columbo isn’t spending so much time outside these days because when he does venture forth he’s as likely as not to come back soaking. Then he usually comes straight to me, leaving a trail of muddy footprints and jumps up covering me with mud and twigs. Once he was so filthy when he came in I had to put him in the shower, although I just sponged him off rather than turning it full on. He’d probably have a heart attack if I did that.

Although the weather has reduced his options, Columbo’s life still seems to present many challenges for him. The main one these days is where to sleep. In the summer he’d quite often snooze outside on the lawn, on the decking or under a bush in the garden. Now these are no longer viable, he still has important decisions as to where to take his repose.

Columbo has four main places to sleep inside the house, and he seems to visit them in the same order each day like a drowsy student moving from one lecture theatre to another. At night he sleeps in a basket in the dining room. After breakfast, and the brief period of wakefulness that follows it, he moves into the sitting room (I think because it catches the sun in the mornings).  In the afternoons he likes the space under the window in the spare bedroom and then in the evenings he likes the mat next to the bath.

He sometimes interrupts his busy schedule of napping to climb onto the sofa, usually when I’m trying to read or do the crossword, to snuggle up and to sleep again always in what looks like an impossibly uncomfortable position.

That’s just about all there is to report for now. Soon, if I can be bothered, I’ll be putting up a Christmas tree. That usually produces a generous batch of  hilarious moments because he likes to play with the decorations, especially if they’re reflective, batting them about to the point of destruction. But I’ll leave that for next time.

By the way, he often sleeps on his back like this. It’s quite strange for a cat, I think.

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Cat-and-Mouse

Posted in Columbo with tags on June 2, 2009 by telescoper

I haven’t really got time for a long post today, but a couple of people have independently asked me how Columbo is getting on so I think it’s probably a good time for an update.

Since his scary Easter seizure Columbo has recovered extremely well and is doing fine, in fact. I don’t know what caused his little episode, but judging by his recovery it seems unlikely that it could have been a stroke like the vet suggested. He’s enjoying the nice weather and spends most of his time in my little garden these days.  (Incidentally, I’ve got loads of beautiful pink roses at the moment which quite wonderful to look at although they don’t smell very much.)

I’ve had various rather tedious things to do (such as marking examinations and project reports) but the glorious sunshine has allowed me to do these al fresco. When I’m sitting at the garden table, Columbo almost always climbs up and sits next to whatever I’m doing. It can be a bit difficult to get on with him there, especially when I’ve got the computer. When my fingers move over the keys he thinks its a game and tries to catch them with his paw. He also goes walkabout on the keyboard from time leading to some strange passages in my usually flawless prose.

On Sunday I spent a bit of time marking examination scripts but, in the course of doing that I realised that Columbo had found something to attract his attention. My garden table is actually on a piece of decking at the far end of the garden. The cat was sniffing and scratching at the decking in a peculiar way. Eventually I realised that the reason was a scuttling sound coming from underneath: almost certainly a mouse.

Columbo has never been an accomplished predator. I’m sure the few things he has brought into the house died of natural causes, apart from the huge black toad he caught when I was living in Nottingham. The problem with toads is that they secrete poisonous mucus, so Columbo had only just got the thing through the cat flap when he realised it was nasty, dropped it and started to drool from his mouth and cry like a baby. Thinking he had been poisoned when I came to investigate, I immediately rinsed his mouth with salt water which did the trick. It was only then I saw the disgruntled reptile sitting by the kitchen door with hardly a mark on it. I returned it to the garden and Columbo stayed away from toads thereafter.

P1010026

Anyway, the invisible mouse could be heard quite clearly moving to and fro in the invisible space underneath while Columbo followed it about on the surface like a destroyer trying to track a submarine. Finally he located it at the edge of the decking near the fence, where he went berserk scrabbling for the little critter. He didn’t manage to catch it, but it was very funny to watch although he went into a bit of a huff after the disappointment of failing to score a kill.

He has caught mice before – or, more likely, found them – but never really ate them. He always just played with them until they felt to bits and left a pile of guts on the carpet. He’s always been absolutely hopeless with birds too, never getting anywhere near them before they fly away. Until a couple of weeks ago, that is, when I found a dead sparrow in my bed…

There’s plenty of shade in my garden so there are places for him to take shelter from the hot sun. I can’t believe it’s much fun wearing a fur coat in this weather and cats have virtually no way of losing heat: they don’t pant, and only sweat through their paws. Fortunately he’s happy to take it easy and, as long as he’s got plenty of water, there’s no real problem. Cats survive in much hotter environments than this.

Because Columbo is diabetic he’s a bit of a magnet for fleas. The reason is that diabetic animals  have more sugar in their blood, so once fleas get on they have a bonanza. The hot weather and the fact that he’s outside so much of the time means that he’s always likely to pick up fleas and ticks. Fortunately there is an easy treatment for fleas that you dab onto the cat’s neck and it stops them breeding. I gave him a good comb last night and there was no sign of any parasites.

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A funny thing happened on the way…

Posted in Columbo with tags , on April 13, 2009 by telescoper

Following yesterday’s emergency trip to the vet with Columbo, I took him back this morning. Although still very woozy from the tranquilizers he’s been having, he is much better this morning and the vet suggested no further action would be needed unless he had another episode. When the latest Diazepam wears off, hopefully he will return to some semblance of normality.

By the way, thanks for all the nice messages on here and on facebook. I really appreciate them.

While I was waiting in the reception area, a guy came in to make an appointment. When the receptionist asked what kind of animal he had, he said “Pet Sheep”. The animal concerned was waiting patiently in the back of his car.

It turns out the owner of this particularly sheep, David Palmer, is something of a celebrity and has even featured on Sky News. He found the sheep abandoned and brought it up as a pet. It lives in his house and is very tame, sitting quietly in the car while people chatted around him. It’s a substantial beast, though. Over 20 stones in fact -that’s 280lbs for any transatlantic readers.

I’ve never thought of sheep as pets. There are pet lambs on farms of course: when their mother has died or rejected them they are typically brought up by humans until they’re ready to go to market. But a full-grown sheep is a sizeable beast and, I would have thought, difficult to housetrain. Still, this one seemed quite affectionate. I asked Mr Palmer what he fed the sheep on. The answer was sprouts and carrots.

These days vets have to cope with all kinds of animals as well as the traditional cats and dogs. I’ve seen lizards, snakes, a monkey and vietnamese pig in various waiting rooms during various visits to various vets over the years.

The funniest thing I ever saw, though, wasn’t the sheep but a huge dog; a Great Dane no less. This enormous animal came  into the vet’s surgery with a little old lady in tow. She was like a character out of an old Ealing comedy and the dog was at least shoulder high to her. I thought she could probably ride around on it like a horse.

As they entered, a small dog barked and the Great Dane freaked out and started bounding around the room, knocking over a stand covered in pet treats and toys and generally causing a commotion. The old lady said “Brian! Calm down!”.

Brian. What a name for a Great Dane.

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Blackbird has Spoken

Posted in Biographical, Poetry with tags , , , on February 25, 2009 by telescoper

Over the last few days we’ve been having something approximating springtime here in Cardiff. It has been sunny and quite warm, my garden has started to come to life, and the crocuses have appeared in Bute Park. It’s also getting to the time when I won’t feel guilty for walking home in daylight. Soon I’ll even be able to walk home through Bute Park, which closes when it gets dark, currently at 5.15.

I hope this all continues into a pleasant spring and summer, without the heavy continuous rain we had last year. I’m not betting on it though.

However, the clement weather has given me one headache recently. With sunrise happening a bit earlier and the good weather giving the local wildlife something to shout about, the dawn chorus has been waking me up around 4am.

Or, actually, it’s not so much a chorus as a solo. A very loud blackbird has taken to sitting right next to my bedroom window and singing at the top of its voice.

I’m very fond of blackbirds. Once while I was in the garden in my old house in Beeston, a blackbird flew onto a fence post about a yard away from me and sat there looking at me as I stood with a spade in my hand. I looked back. We looked at each other for ages, the blackbird turning its head every now and again so as to peer at me with a different eye. I slowly raised my arm and extended a palm. To my absolute delight the bird hopped onto my open hand. It stayed there only a minute or so, probably until it realised my fingers weren’t actually big fat worms like it thought. For that moment, though, I felt a bit like a latter-day St Francis of Assisi.

Blackbirds have a very attractive song, but this one seems particularly loud and he certainly does go on a bit. For about a week now I’ve been unable to get back to sleep after being woken by this critter, and instead got up and had a cup of tea while he says what he has to say. Columbo finds his song quite interesting too, although the bird is always out of reach…

Years ago, I used to suffer very badly from insomnia so being awake at 4am is not an unfamiliar experience to me, although it’s much nicer to be woken by birdsong than to be unable to sleep in the first place. This all reminded me of a devastatingly brilliant poem called Aubade and written by Philip Larkin that was published in the Times Literary Supplement in 1977. This is one of the last poems written by Larkin, and is undoubtedly one of the greatest.

Written by a jazz-loving bachelor who drank too much, someone not unlike myself in some respects, I found it uncanningly accurate in its depiction of the bleak thoughts that tend to engulf you when you’re alone and awake in the silence before dawn. But I can assure you the mood is a whole lot lighter when you have a blackbird (and a cat) for company!

I work all day, and get half drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain edges will grow light.
Till then I see what’s really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die.
Arid interrogation: yet the dread
Of dying, and being dead,
Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.

The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
– The good not used, the love not given, time
Torn off unused – nor wretchedly because
An only life can take so long to climb
Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never:
But at the total emptiness forever,
The sure extinction that we travel to
And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,
Not to be anywhere,
And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.

This is a special way of being afraid
No trick dispels. Religion used to try,
That vast moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die,
And specious stuff that says no rational being
Can fear a thing it cannot feel, not seeing
that this is what we fear – no sight, no sound,
No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,
Nothing to love or link with,
The anaesthetic from which none come round.

And so it stays just on the edge of vision,
A small unfocused blur, a standing chill
That slows each impulse down to indecision
Most things may never happen: this one will,
And realisation of it rages out
In furnace fear when we are caught without
People or drink. Courage is no good:
It means not scaring others. Being brave
Lets no-one off the grave.
Death is no different whined at than withstood.

Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape.
It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,
Have always known, know that we can’t escape
Yet can’t accept. One side will have to go.
Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring
In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring
Intricate rented world begins to rouse.
The sky is white as clay, with no sun.
Work has to be done.
Postmen like doctors go from house to house.

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Positive Vetting

Posted in Columbo with tags , on November 7, 2008 by telescoper
Columbo, reflecting on the meaning of existence

Columbo, reflecting on the meaning of existence

Today I took Columbo to his new vets. I was meaning to do this ages ago but I couldn’t find a convenient time during working hours to do take him there. Usually he hates going to the vets and adding in the fact that this was an entirely new place for him I was quite nervous about him getting a bit stressed.

As it turned out he was very perky this morning and I got him into his box quite easily (which makes a change). I turned up right on time at the vets for his 9am appointment and introduced him to the staff in reception. As always they remarked on what a big cat he is and how cute he looks. He has a particularly large head for a cat and he sometimes looks more like a teddy bear than a pussycat.

He’s had a bit of a tough week, especially on Wednesday with Bonfire Night fireworks going off all around my house until after 10pm. From my bedroom window I saw for free a magnificent display going on in Victoria Park which was very much better than the one I paid to see on Saturday. I kept Columbo indoors all evening, and he coped OK with the noise from the fireworks especially when I distracted him with his favourite brush. On the other hand, next door’s small yappy-type dog barked every time there was a significant explosion within earshot producing irritating sounds which neither I nor Columbo appreciated.

Surprisingly he didn’t look at all miserable in the vet’s reception and when I took him through to the consulting room he sat upright on the examining table with his ears pricked.  At other vets he usually moped around and tried to hide, which is a difficult task given his size.  This time he was quite comfortable during the quick examination at which he was pronounced fit and healthy.

One thing cats do when they’re nervous is to sweat from their paws (practically the only place they sweat from). Often when I’ve lifted Columbo from the vet’s table, wet pawprints have been left behind. Not this time, though.

The vet then wanted to take a blood sample in order to check his glucose levels. This has previously been the traumatic bit. The vet I saw today, however, had a different approach to all the others. Instead of taking a vial of blood from the throat area, which requires shaving the neck and introducing a needle into the big vein to draw the sample, this vet used a tiny needle to extract the merest dab from one of his ears. He certainly felt it, but it was all over in a flash. His blood glucose came out around 7 which is very good, considering that in stressful situations (like visits to the vets) the level usually rises.

As the vet typed up the notes and made out a prescription for more insulin, Columbo felt comfortable enough to take a little stroll around the room and explore a few of the interesting cupboards. I’ve never seen him so relaxed in such a situation before. I always imagined that the smells of other animals (some of which are in distress) is what affects him when he goes to the vet but although there were other cats waiting in reception, he wasn’t fazed at all.

Last thing was to weigh him. I’ve been trying to control his food to reduce his weight and it seems to be working slowly. This time he was down to about 6.35 kg. Still quite hefty, but heading in the right direction.

So then it was back into the box and out to reception. They had his insulin and needles in stock, present and correct, all ready for collection and, after I’d pocketed the gear, off we went. I was back home by 9.30. I let Columbo out of the box and, his excitement for the day over, he settled down to sleep on the sofa.

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