You see this thing that Tig is lying on? I call it his kitty condo. I spent quite a lot of money for it some years ago, buying it from a specialty pet shop in Montclair that no longer exists. He immediately took over the top of the condo, forcing Gracie to sleep in the tube below, but they were pretty happy in the condo for quite some time.

Then, for reasons I cannot explain, Tig suddenly became frightened of the condo. He stopped sleeping on it, and wouldn’t stay in it if I put him there. He’d immediately leap off and start licking himself compulsively. So, instead of being an expensive, but fully-used cat plaything, where they not only used it as a scratching post but slept and played on it, it became a very expensive scratching post, making me want to toss it and get a plain, $20 post since the condo’s carpeting has long since been ripped to shreds, and it looks, well, ratty.

Since Mom’s Passover visit I stopped using it as a repository for mail and other things that fit into the top of the condo. And two days ago, while carrying Tig near the condo, I put him on it. He scratched at the top with his front paws for a few moments, then exited (through the bars of the railing, which always amuses me, because he’s too lazy to jump off). I tried again a few hours later. The reward?

This.

Well worth it. I’m betting it’s been at least two years since he was last on that thing. Gracie still sleeps in the tube if she wants, but Tig was freaked out by it for years. Apparently, the kitty condo monster has gone.

Now I don’t have to spend another $150 to buy a new one. But I need to recarpet this one. I wonder if an upholsterer would do it.

You know what I hate? I know how to walk. I’ve been doing it since I was practically a baby. So howcome every so often, I walk down a step and my foot turns sideways and I nearly break my ankle?

I can only believe that it is my foot doing it deliberately, because walking is an unconscious feat (no pun intended) at this point.

It is of only minimal comfort to me that I did not, indeed, break my ankle, that I only twisted it, because I am sitting here typing this with one leg up and iced and, well, hurting. No, it really isn’t that bad, but I am a firm believer in icing things that hurt to make them hurt less, especially if they may swell and bruise. Preventive medicine and I are old pals.

I have a friend who refuses to ice bumps and bruises because she hates ice. This friend is also a nurse, and I cannot comprehend that someone who knows exactly what the difference minimal icing makes refuses to do it because it doesn’t feel good. But then, we all have our quirks. I don’t like eating mushy foods.

In any case. Razzafrazzarazzafrazza. My ankle will be fine, if a bit sore, by tomorrow, but y’know, my feet are supposed to know what they’re doing by now.

Stupid foot.