Running and Cat Crises
I've always been a fidget. I find it hard to sit still at the best of times (one of the reasons I rarely go to the cinema) but when there's something on my mind, I pace like a depressed polar bear in a zoo.
That's one of the reasons running is so good for me. I feel instantly better when I'm moving. Once I get into a rhythm, it soothes me and although I'm not exactly Paula Radcliffe, I can currently run at a speed that does, to me at least, feel a bit like flying. And boy, did I need to fly away for a little today.
We're in the midst of a cat crisis. Putting it simply (though I suspect from a feline psychology point of view it's far from simple) one cat keeps biting the other cat, causing puncture wounds that mean we're back and forth from the vets at the moment. The cats have a complex relationship. Weeks can go by when they cohabit without incident, then randomly we'll have another ambushing. It's over and done with in a matter of seconds, but the damage a manky cat tooth can do in those seconds is shocking. We've been racking our brains, trying to find a long term solution but other than re-homing the offending cat (which to me would feel like putting one of your kids into care) I'm reduced to attempting to keep them apart, which isn't easy when they're both accustomed to having the run of the whole house.
So, with the latest vet's appointment looming at 4 o clock today and my nerves already in a state, I headed to the local reservoir this morning for what I hoped would be a therapeutic run. And it was. It was drizzly and refreshing and there was more than a hint of autumn in the air. The heather was out and a few berries were making an appearance, so the colours were really pretty. The ducks were on the water, the windmills were turning, the anglers were settled by the lakeside and the calm enveloped me like a much-needed hug. It's a while since I've run at the reservoir and it felt like it was welcoming me back, reassuring me that it had been waiting for me and would take care of me for the next half hour or so.
I managed to avoid thinking cat-thoughts as I ran. I just marvelled at how lovely the landscape was and how quickly it changes. It had looked quite different the last time we ran, when we were still in the grips of the heatwave. Everything had seemed a bit dry and barren then, but the recent rains had made the grass a little greener and brought a few vibrant plants into bloom. I didn't miss the swarm of mid-summer flies either. I had my earplugs in and was listening to music. I don't usually run to music because on my regular route I'm always nervous of bikes coming up fast behind me and not being able to hear, but on today's route it seemed like a safe idea. So, as I powered along the undulating path I enjoyed my 80s playlist. I climbed the highest mountain, crossed the widest sea. I could feel St Elmo's Fire burning in me. (Sort of) I do actually wonder if I'm the only person left on this planet who doesn't run to the soundtrack of Greatest Showman.
I'm back home now and counting the hours until the whole kerfuffle of getting a wounded animal into a travel box begins, then the unpleasantness of the car journey and the mournful cries of the prisoner on the back seat, then having to see your beloved pet examined whilst in pain and afraid. (If only they understood that we were doing it because we care so much.)
I wish I could say, hand on heart, that the run has reminded me of my strength to face up to all types of stressful situation, or that my observations of the changing landscape have been a timely reminder that "this too shall pass", or that it restored my faith in nature as being something beautiful and magical, as opposed to an absolute bugger that makes one cat attack another. But all I can really say is that my run gave me a bit of a break, a short one but a break all the same, a dose of normality in an otherwise problematic day. I would probably be in an even more anxious state without it.
So, I'm keeping everything crossed. I suppose it's just as well I'm not trying to run like that.
UPDATE: One fur baby, safely home from the vet, now wearing an Elizabethan 'collar of shame.' Long-acting antibiotic will hopefully sort things out.
That's one of the reasons running is so good for me. I feel instantly better when I'm moving. Once I get into a rhythm, it soothes me and although I'm not exactly Paula Radcliffe, I can currently run at a speed that does, to me at least, feel a bit like flying. And boy, did I need to fly away for a little today.
We're in the midst of a cat crisis. Putting it simply (though I suspect from a feline psychology point of view it's far from simple) one cat keeps biting the other cat, causing puncture wounds that mean we're back and forth from the vets at the moment. The cats have a complex relationship. Weeks can go by when they cohabit without incident, then randomly we'll have another ambushing. It's over and done with in a matter of seconds, but the damage a manky cat tooth can do in those seconds is shocking. We've been racking our brains, trying to find a long term solution but other than re-homing the offending cat (which to me would feel like putting one of your kids into care) I'm reduced to attempting to keep them apart, which isn't easy when they're both accustomed to having the run of the whole house.
So, with the latest vet's appointment looming at 4 o clock today and my nerves already in a state, I headed to the local reservoir this morning for what I hoped would be a therapeutic run. And it was. It was drizzly and refreshing and there was more than a hint of autumn in the air. The heather was out and a few berries were making an appearance, so the colours were really pretty. The ducks were on the water, the windmills were turning, the anglers were settled by the lakeside and the calm enveloped me like a much-needed hug. It's a while since I've run at the reservoir and it felt like it was welcoming me back, reassuring me that it had been waiting for me and would take care of me for the next half hour or so.
I managed to avoid thinking cat-thoughts as I ran. I just marvelled at how lovely the landscape was and how quickly it changes. It had looked quite different the last time we ran, when we were still in the grips of the heatwave. Everything had seemed a bit dry and barren then, but the recent rains had made the grass a little greener and brought a few vibrant plants into bloom. I didn't miss the swarm of mid-summer flies either. I had my earplugs in and was listening to music. I don't usually run to music because on my regular route I'm always nervous of bikes coming up fast behind me and not being able to hear, but on today's route it seemed like a safe idea. So, as I powered along the undulating path I enjoyed my 80s playlist. I climbed the highest mountain, crossed the widest sea. I could feel St Elmo's Fire burning in me. (Sort of) I do actually wonder if I'm the only person left on this planet who doesn't run to the soundtrack of Greatest Showman.
I'm back home now and counting the hours until the whole kerfuffle of getting a wounded animal into a travel box begins, then the unpleasantness of the car journey and the mournful cries of the prisoner on the back seat, then having to see your beloved pet examined whilst in pain and afraid. (If only they understood that we were doing it because we care so much.)
I wish I could say, hand on heart, that the run has reminded me of my strength to face up to all types of stressful situation, or that my observations of the changing landscape have been a timely reminder that "this too shall pass", or that it restored my faith in nature as being something beautiful and magical, as opposed to an absolute bugger that makes one cat attack another. But all I can really say is that my run gave me a bit of a break, a short one but a break all the same, a dose of normality in an otherwise problematic day. I would probably be in an even more anxious state without it.
So, I'm keeping everything crossed. I suppose it's just as well I'm not trying to run like that.
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