How to change her reflection and pull you in the undertow again
Our very brave cats are returned from their day at the vet's, where we dropped them off for their dental appointment at eight in the morning and retrieved them at five in the evening plus a mild anesthesia hangover and collectively minus four teeth. It is a little shell-shocking in the case of Autolycus who now has only one of his beautiful fangs remaining—I am being reassured on all sides that I should not feel like a neglectful cat parent because the reasons were genetic—but his purr is undamaged and he has been doing his best all evening to hoover up anything that resembles food. He nuzzled my fingers through the wire front of the carrier all the way home. Hestia is hissing and snorting as she always does about the hated vet smell and sooner or later we will have to gird ourselves and remove the sticky bandage from her forepaw, but at the moment retaining our fingers is the better part of valor. ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spatch prayed to Bast for them in the morning. In the late afternoon, while we were waiting to be permitted to collect the cats, we walked the trail down Fottler Brook to the Great Meadows that I discovered earlier this month.
Brickwork in the root ball, we know, we know, it's serious.
Lichen-climb, heart-crack.
Serious fairy gold.
Ghosts of entanglement.
Approaching sunset and the Great Meadows.
Every field needs a foreground tree.
We appreciated how much this one wasn't even pretending that it doesn't walk at night.
A package fromyhlee was waiting for me when I got home: it turned out to contain mermaid stickers and a sampler set of sea-perfumes, Imaginary Authors' Every Storm a Serenade and Falling into the Sea and Haus of Gloi's Driftwood, which escaped slightly from its vial in transit and as a result I believe I now smell rather strongly of black musk. I am waiting until it wears off to experiment with the other two. I leave you with photographic evidence that minus three-quarters of his fangs or not, Autolycus can still take on my birthday balloon any day.
spatch prayed to Bast for them in the morning. In the late afternoon, while we were waiting to be permitted to collect the cats, we walked the trail down Fottler Brook to the Great Meadows that I discovered earlier this month.
Brickwork in the root ball, we know, we know, it's serious.
Lichen-climb, heart-crack.
Serious fairy gold.
Ghosts of entanglement.
Approaching sunset and the Great Meadows.
Every field needs a foreground tree.
We appreciated how much this one wasn't even pretending that it doesn't walk at night.
A package from
yhlee was waiting for me when I got home: it turned out to contain mermaid stickers and a sampler set of sea-perfumes, Imaginary Authors' Every Storm a Serenade and Falling into the Sea and Haus of Gloi's Driftwood, which escaped slightly from its vial in transit and as a result I believe I now smell rather strongly of black musk. I am waiting until it wears off to experiment with the other two. I leave you with photographic evidence that minus three-quarters of his fangs or not, Autolycus can still take on my birthday balloon any day.
no subject
We didn't know what to expect when we left them this morning. It was more teeth out than we had hoped they would need, but they seem to have come through safe and themselves and that is the most important thing. We were worried. And it was done for their health, not cosmetically. I just hope it won't need to be done again.
Autolycus still looks so young!
He is very kittenish still in some ways!
lichen-climb, heart-crack are some Very Good Words.
Thank you.
The embrace in "ghostly entanglement" is almost violent--there is a story there, for sure.
I was struck by how many different trees and vines were part of it—like the wood had lashed itself together.