“Cats are rather delicate creatures and they are subject to a good many different ailments, but I have never heard of one who suffered from insomnia” said Joseph Wood Krutch.
Well, he has to meet our little golden boy here. He define the quote and take it to the next three levels.
The waterfall where our orchestra kittens were dumped lead to that small river, that surrounds the beginning of the sole road leading to the top of the mountain. One and a quarter miles (2 km) up that river is our house.
I found him on the corner of the bridge, with one of his feet dangling off the edge, toward eight feet (2.4 m) free fall to a rocky bed down below.
I thought he had died; because that was the most unnatural position I have ever seen a cat sleep in. It was as if he was squashed by car and thrown to the side of the road.
I had to squat by and eyeball on him for a while just to make sure there is movement on his tummy. And then I poked him. First on his round belly, but he didn’t move. I poked his head with my finger, but that too didn’t move him.
I pat and stroke him from his head all the way to his tail and he didn’t budge either.
I turned him around and he won’t wake up. I carry him and cradle him in my arms like baby. That time, the slit that is his eyes cracked, less than one millimeter apart, and then it’s closed again. I doubt he can even see anything with eyes opened that small.
I put him in my tote bag, and he didn’t move. When I get to the house I put the tote bag on the table and he didn’t move.
I go feed the cats, clean the house, go ship out the orders et cetera (including playing with Sencha) and go back in the afternoon and he still didn’t move.
The minced beef for the kittens went bad after only one day in the chiller so I rushed back out and might as well buy cat food, underpads, kitchen towel and everything else and go back home at 9 pm; and he is still inside my tote, sleeping.
I don’t know if he has been walking all the way down from the mountain to be so tired or something, or if he is too stressed to face the world and thinking about sleeping himself to death; but seriously, he didn’t even move. So much so all the cats in my house didn’t even realize he is there. Helen even sit and sleep on him and he didn’t even shift.
He didn’t eat, he didn’t drink.
I was growing worry so I stir him up, and it took me a while before he opens his eyes and stand straight on the table. He took a deep breath, yawn, and was about to go back to sleep!
“Baby, seriously, are you all right?”
I gave him dewormer, which he licks and swallow. I dripped some water with syringe, which he licks and swallow, and then he put his two little paws on my breast and you guess it, go back to sleep.
I brought him into my studio to join the orchestra babies. He is probably a one or two weeks older, but their size is the same.
He woke up again when I put him down. He cried for a few minutes, and then he followed Allegro climbing the pile of clean mats, go round and yes, of course, go back to sleep.
I gave up. I thought he is probably just exhausted. Maybe he just climb up from the bottom of the rocky river down there to the bridge all by himself. He is dirty and dusty so I think he’s been away from his mom long enough to travel to what must be the end of the world for him.
He woke up and lined up in front of the door like the other four always greet me this morning; but he didn’t eat. I tried putting food inside his mouth but he spat it out. I tried dripping water but he didn’t drink. He follows everyone around, look at them eat, climb my lap, sit, cry for a little.
And yes, curl up and go back to sleep.
Talking about (over) sleeping beauty…
I think I’d better take him to see the vet.
Hopefully his vet bill won’t rip our halfway done fund raiser this week. But of course even if it does, I’ll save him anyway. paypal.me/