So I found out that Paul (meaning Paul Stanley one of my cats who’s been living with my Mom) is three weeks pregnant. She managed to escape and after just one night of burning hot cat love, got knocked up. That was my first time to sit through an ultrasound, and it had to be for one of my cats. Whoohooo! sInGLe4LyF!
While looking at her record, I noted that the first time I brought her in was January 15, 2015. This only matters because we’re already hurtling towards December, and in my attempts to look back on this year January has remained, for the most part, completely lost. So that’s what happened: I picked up a kitten who’s face was so eaten out by fungus that it rendered her right eye useless…and now, girl is so fine she got knocked up on the first date. Way to go, Paul Stanley!
When I first brought Paul home, she was a massive pain in the ass to care for. On top of and because of the fungus, she needed to be quarantined. Sometime after the growths on her face had healed, she somehow chewed all the skin off her rear knee. I was already working at MCAD by then, and had to stop by my Mom’s house (where I was keeping Paul to keep her from infecting Bush, who was then recovering from Calici at my apartment) just to change her bandages. That had to have been sometime between February and April…
As easy as it is to lose track of time, it is possible to grasp just how much time we lose by looking at the gaps in the attention we’re able to devote to particular issues: the issue in this case being my cat who I somehow overlooked spaying. It seems like such a small thing, and looking back, I did take her to the vet somewhat regularly after that knee-gnawing incident, but she was just too sickly to have any vaccinations–let alone major surgeries–done. Not that it’s an excuse, just enough perspective on how much time has elapsed since this one cat last demanded so much of my time and money, and a reminder that she’s still around and (as irresponsible as I’ve been over the past few months) still among my responsibilities.
On a parallel plane, I could call it a distraction. After all, a kitten is born every second, why should this litter deserve so much time, money, and attention. How does a stray cat even become a priority? I should be writing my thesis, getting my MA. I went online to write a proposal I’m supposed to present to the Japan Foundation next week.
I still have not digested what happened this year so I guess, after that long intro mostly concerning my pregnant cat, this is an attempt to chop it into little bite-sized pieces:
- January was Paul Stanley, Bush, Cheney, and Little Penguin, and the move from my Dad’s house to my Apartment
- February was invigilating at MCAD for Paul Pfeiffer’s show, which continued ’til April
- I guess March was nothing special.
- Then I got news of that other job in April.
- June and July were consecutive jury sessions.
- August was the Summer School in Antwerp.
- September was awards season.
- October was Wohnungsfrage and Critical Cartography.
- November was time well spent with my sister.
And now Paul is pregnant.
2016 will roll in just like that. Paul will have her kittens. They will become cats. There’s a word for the conditions in which we see things without taking notice, “Picnolepsy”. Things just happen.