I jinxed her

Starbuck now has a beautiful plastic cat bonnet. Watching her struggle around the room, bumping her cone into everything, then watching her flail to try to get it off was torture and kept me up past three. She seemed fine with it at first. Lying in a blanket right beside my mattress, she put up no resistance when I put it on. We even got to play just after. She kept staring at me with what looked to be her disembodied head while she'd lazily paw at the blanket I dangled in front of her. It was heart breaking but cute. Then came the moment when she realized that this cone was actually attached firmly to her. Kind of like that moment when folks first realize that mortality has a bead on them it's never going to loose, she freaked out a bit. But physically instead of existentially.

Well, who knows. Maybe existentially too. Maybe this was a watershed moment. Maybe it came to her in a flash: Hey, this guy's just fucking with me! What am I doing in this house? Why can't I ever get out?

I'll never know though as she hasn't been talking to me. Starbuck was always very conversational. She had inquisitive mews, assertive mews, WTF mews. She meowed during natural pauses in my monologue, and I always answered, pretending she said what the conflicting viewpoint in my head would have said.

You know, I would hate to see myself someday having to make a case for my sanity while a doctor holds a printout of the above in his/her hand.

I felt like a big softy, but the house felt very empty while Starbuck was at the vet yesterday. Very quiet, with no one to answer my once, and again, rhetorical questions. When I brought her home last night, the silence continued. It was just this morning that I got my first peep out of her, and it was wonderful to hear her voice again. I hope this whole experience doesn't leave her quiet and introspective. There need be only one fellow in the house like that.

I'd understand though, as the cage doesn't exist until we posit it as one, and that can be an unsettling realization. No amount of me telling her it's for her own good that I keep her inside could ever convince her otherwise. Maybe from now on she'll be my little Andy Dufresne.

I promise some kitty pity pictures later. For now, there's work to be done, and oatmeal to be eaten.