Well, things are settling down from arm fracture. I just can’t hold heavy objects or have it pulled, like if I am not thinking, and have Ivy’s leash in my hand.

Ivy got her first puppy cut Friday, and Frank his usual grooming.

One morning, after the dog park, I stopped at Pier One to get Cowboy Joe a papasan footstool. He uses it as a way up onto the bed. The first night Ivy used her big dog sleeping crate, Joe wasn’t on the bed. But all is well, now. I don’t really know how a veterinary ophthalmologist could evaluate depth perception, but CJ has had it all his life.

Fort Fun was in the 80s yesterday, and is going to be warm but windy today. Ivy went to the front door indicating she wanted to have a walk. I told her to come back and carry her leash to the door. How cute is a puppy carrying her leash to the door because she wants a walk?

Poor Cowboy Joe

Cowboy Joe, Franklin’s brother, has some sort of depth perception problem. He cannot jump up on high places. He just bobs his head up and down and gives up.

On my bed here in Colorado, I’ve kept a chair next to the bed. He jumps on the chair, then walks onto the bed to sleep. In Arizona, it’s a Pier 1 papasan footstool.

Yesterday, Ivy’s big dog sleeping crate came, and the chair had to be removed to the wall. Poor Joe, he didn’t sleep on the bed. So, I think a trip to Pier 1 after physical therapy today is in order. Can’t sleep without one of my best buds!

Where’s Dr. Mary been?

Where has Dr. Mary been since the last post months ago? I’ve been trying to pass law school. Don’t ask!

I am going quiet for awhile more to focus on my studies.

I will say that Cowboy Joe had to be seen by a vet yesterday. I found a wonderful clinic close to home. Cowboy is scheduled for a dental, and to look at a nasty canine tooth. I noticed it the other day. Of course, clients say, “I just noticed this.” Really, it has probably been going on for awhile.

One thing that leads me to believe this may not be true, and it is recent, is that Matthew was on the attack big time a few days ago. Don’t know what the fracas was about, but here is Cowboy, ready for kitty dentures, I guess.

Thanks to Dr. Hegi at Animal Care Clinic. It’s a little embarrassing to say I had to take my cat to the vet, being a specialist and all, but truth to tell, I still haven’t organized my vet materials, the meds I have are out of date, and I haven’t established contact with vendors. Also, the American Bar Association does not allow 1Ls to work. I don’t think that includes my own pets, but it’s a good excuse.

Cowboy Joe, and later Matthew and Franklin, will be under good care. I did bring home rabies shots and certificates for Matt and Frank. That I can handle right now.

Apologies for my absence.

Suspensory movement, hanging cats

During my first semester as an undergraduate physical education major, a required course was entitled, “Basic Body Movement and Rhythms,” or “Basic Bod” as we called it. My father, the doctor, sneered at the content of my courses. It was a wonderful course that included Newton’s three laws of motion allowing me to understand how my field hockey cleats helped me, and a principle called the angle of rebound and spin, which forever improved my pool game.
One lesson was about suspensory motion. It applies to gymnasts, ballet dancers, or anyone or object which is lofted into outer space. In between the upward motion and the downward motion (both related to Sir Isaac Newton, may he rest in peace,) when one gets to the height of the movement, there is a moment in time where the body/object is suspended in the air. That is, for a nanosecond or so, it hangs motionless in air until gravity overcomes the upward force of the movement to pull it back down to earth. In football terms, a punt is supposed to have a long hang time. I always thought that was really cool.
When I play with the boys and their kitty tease, Franklin, who is a very large cat as is his brother Cowboy Joe, is monstrously strong. He has the ability to get his body so high in his maniacal jumps, that when suspended in air somewhat like a furry football, it seems like forever for gravity to overtake his jump. Frank has a long hang time. Joe does too, and both of them do some marvelous gymnastic moves that I never achieved as a gymnast way back when. Matthew just powers through his jumps.
Earl always commented on Frank’s forelimbs, about how buff they were. Frank does work out his guns. His personal workout is repetitiously pawing on closed doors, which are white, thanks, dude, and pulling the full water dish around the cat room.
Matthew goes ape sh*& by running around the house, eventually focusing on one of the twins to beat up. In the former home, he would ask me to go to his room when he was overstimulated, and I would put him in the cat room with the door closed. It worked out well, unless I forgot about him and went about my day. Then I’d have to hear all about it at great length and with much authority.
Cowboy’s personal regime is chasing kitty toy balls, pens and pencils around the house. He runs after the little balls I got the other day as if he can actually catch them, not knowing when he bats the balls, they careen in another direction. The angle of rebound and spin.
Cats and Newtonian physics: the ultimate corollary for the science-nerd vet.