Eagles Over the Kennebec

We said good-bye to Belle today.  She let us know that it was time.  She was attended by her vet of many years, and passed on peacefully to the world beyond.

Kelimcoons Belle of the Ball, February 19, 2010-August 11, 2023

So, Belle is our Champion Napper here at the Cat Farm.  She really enjoys her naps, and often does two at once.  She seems to prefer company, but will happily nap alone, if that's how the dice roll.

I don't even have a rating as a Napper -- it's a tough field -- but I do like company in my poor efforts, and Belle has taken to tutoring me in the fine points.

I've noticed a couple of things, napping with Belle, that I don't notice when napping with the other cats -- or, in fact, when I go solo.

First is that her purr is incredibly soothing.  I'll lie down with my head awhirl -- the normal state of the inside of my head is a kind of barely controlled thought-twist, which, like the ringing in my ears, can't ever be said to go away entirely; the range of action is something like:  Kind of Loud, Loud, Awfully Loud, Way too Loud, and Batten the Hatches.

But, Belle's purrs cut through all that noise.  It takes a few minutes, but she's also a champion purr-er, and has real staying power.  And she manages to achieve silence inside my head, a state I've noticed now several times in the millisecond before the purr does its final work and puts me to sleep.

The other thing I've noticed when napping with cats is the quality of dreams.  Despite my whirlwind head, I very rarely dream, or -- for those who insist that everyone Does Too dream -- remember my dreams.  If I've had cat assistance, I do dream, and often remember my dreams, and I wake up a shade more relaxed than I would do, sleeping alone.

Belle-induced dreams though, are -- a little different.

They are almost all in the genre of Saving the Kittens.  I have, in recent dreams, rescued kittens who were stuck behind a large appliance; stood between kittens and a large, noisy machine; and moved a number of kittens to a place of safety after one was grabbed by a Bad Person and thrown.

These are not restful dreams, though they are infused with a sense of purpose and determination.  I wake up a little more alert, it seems, and attentive to possible threats -- to the kittens.  It's an odd feeling, though not necessarily unpleasant.

. . .and I wonder if these are shared dreams -- that is, if Belle, having been a Mom Cat in what I know to be a very safe place for cats, still reviews these themes in order to keep her edge, if, yanno, kittens fall into her way again.

On the other hand, it could just be my subconscious having some fun with association.

Either way, it's striking and notable, and I have, therefore, noted it.

So, let's see -- Amazon is taking pre-orders of Alliance of Equals, which is kind of crazy, but there you have it.

For those who like autographed copies, we have spoken to Mr. Blyly at Uncle Hugo's and he professes himself willing to do the not-inconsiderable amount of extra work to make signed copies available.  However!  He would (rationally, in my opinion) like to wait until next year to place Alliance in his catalog, so that he doesn't have to do even more extra work, like calling people whose credit cards have expired during the nine months between now and the book's  publication date.

Bottom line:  If you want a signed copy of Alliance of Equals, which is scheduled for publication on July 5, 2016, Uncle Hugo's will be taking pre-orders.  We'll tell you when.  Or:  Watch the skies.

In other news, I made bread, yesterday.

This isn't a particularly new thing; I like to make bread, and do so pretty often, but I have been on a Quest for a way to make sandwich bread for Steve.  Sandwich bread being uniformly square, and easy to cut, and (this is me) tastes like something other than paper, and doesn't become glue in your mouth.

This  has been an Uphill Quest, and I was honestly despairing -- my bread tends to...reject uniformity as a lifestyle choice, which, given the household, isn't particularly surprising.  I'd about given up, and then, entirely by accident, I found this.  "This" being, in case the link expires at some point, a 13x4x4 inch Pullman Pan.

Here are pictures of my Pullman Pan:

Observant readers will note that this pan had a lid, which keeps the bread from rising into a weird humped shape unsuitable for sandwiches.

This is what my first finished loaf looked like:

Yes!  It's square(ish) and regularly shaped and altogether a Thing of Beauty. On top of that, it tastes great, and sliced (as you can see, above) thin.  I think we're on the road to having a winner, here.

I'll note that the loaf  did not rise quite as much as I thought it should.  Next time I'll add rise time, because (1) our house is chilly, in bread-risin' terms, and (2) I'm using whole wheat flour (King Arthur's White Whole Wheat, in this case, which tends to be heavy lifting for yeast).

Also (my besetting sin) I combined two Pullman (aka pain de mie) recipes to make My Own, and I probably should have made one of the canonical recipes, first, to see how it's Supposed To Look.

(For those interested, here are the two recipes I combined.  Honey-Oat Pain de Mie.   Pain de Mie.)

(Also, for those who may be wondering, "Pullman" is a shout-out to the Pullman train cars of yore, which, among other things, provided meals for their passengers.  Pullman bread was developed because it went together fast and always produced a uniform loaf that sliced thin, and was good for sandwiches and toast.)

Yesterday also included writing, as will today.  With luck and a tailwind, we'll break 45,000 today, and something came clear about the structure just this morning, as the caffeine kicked in, so that will be helpful when it comes time to braid the various threads.

And that's all the news from the Confusion Factory today

I wish a Blessed Samhain to all who celebrate.

Today's blog post brought to you by Meatloaf, "Hot Summer Night."  Here's your link.

And for the Facebook peeps, here's a picture of Belle, trying out the unmade bed:

So, this morning, Belle* visited the vet so we could see what's up with her newly acquired limp.  Best guess is that, in the course of pursuing her Justly Appointed Feline Duties and Honors, she strained, or possibly sprained her left front leg.  She weighs in at 16 pounds (which the vet pronounced "lean"), and insists on levitating to the top of six foot bookcases -- and then, naturally enough, jumping down again.  Apparently, it is the "jumping down again" segment, coupled with the 16 pounds at 32 feet per second per second, which is the problem.

She is, foremost, a cat, and telling her not to jump is Completely Out of the Questions -- see "Justly Appointed. . .Honors," above, so, after a thorough evaluation, the vet prescribed a non-steroid muscle relaxant for the next three days.  Hopefully, this will give the soft tissues some relief, but we are cautioned that soft tissue injuries do take Forever to heal, especially when the patient adamantly refuses RICE.

Belle thanks everyone who expressed concern for her, and wishes to assure them that she is not at risk, and that Sharon and Steve are Old Worry Warts.

So, that.

After we brought Belle home, I. . .went to town, to get my hair cut ("You're purple!" said my hairdresser.  "Yes," I said.  "Yes; I'm purple.", pick up our tickets to Rocky Horror at the Opera House, and our mail at the post office box, then got gas, and a tuna sandwich at Subway, which we are, I believe -- yes -- about to cut in half and eat.

And so the day goes forward.

Hope everyone is having a lovely Tuesday.

Today's blog post brought to you by Modern English, "I Melt With You."  Here's your link.

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*Pop Quiz!  How do you -- yes, you! -- pronounce "Belle"?  We here at the Cat Farm say "Bell," as in "Ring that bell, mama!", or, perhaps "Belle of the Ball," which is Belle's formal name. However, several people we've subsequently met pronounce "Belle" as "Bella."

Yesterday, Steve and I took a leisurely drive in really perfect weather, down to New Hampshire, where, in a little town near Center Harbor, we stopped to interview Belle, and to admire the new crop of Kelimcoons kittens, of which there were many, and busy.

Belle, who was presented as "shy" decided rather quickly that we weren't the least bit scary, consented to enter the cat carrier, and accompanied us on our return trip to Maine.  Aside from a complaint or two at the very beginning, as we were negotiating the remove from the rather tricky driveway, and another, as we made the transition from Route 25 to Route 35, she was completely calm, and napped for most of the three-hour return trip.

Once arrived, she confessed that she was not quite up to meeting new subjects cats. Staff therefore prepared the Retiring Room for her use, and she withdrew behind the washing machine to recruit her strength.

Staff visited her several times on the overnight, once for an extended cuddle session -- Belle was also billed as a "big lap cat," and this seems to be so, and this morning, she once more undertook a journey, this to the office of her new physician, who made certain that she had taken no harm from her exertions, and recorded her weight at 15.1 pounds.

That detail taken care of, she returned to the Cat Farm, where she immediately began a systematic and thorough inventory.  Scrabble hissed -- not unexpectedly -- when Bell entered Steve's office.  Belle did not return the favor, but gazed upon her with wide eyes, and an expression that seemed to say, "Why, look; a tiny cat," before she continued with her inventory.

Trooper, I am sorry to say, hissed at Belle when she came into my office.  Belle didn't even seem to hear it.  She jumped into the copilot's chair as if she knew exactly what it was for, and that she had perfect right to use it.  Gave me a couple of head-bumps, showed the belly and went off to count the linens in the bedroom.

Right now, she's resting under the headboard, a time-honored resting place for those who wish to insure their privacy.  Trooper and Sprite are with me -- Trooper on top of the file cabinet, and Sprite in the red basket on the desk.  Scrabble is behind the suitcase under the desk in Steve's office -- another time-honored private place.

And peace reigns over all.

Steve's gone to the grocery store; I've started the laundry, and will be doing some chores around the house.  Possibly reading will happen.  When I finish the current book, it will be time to read Dragon in Exile and Alliance of Equals back-to-back, and so drift back into working mode.

Tomorrow, at the unghodly hour of 8 a.m., we shall have the sheetrock guy, who will contrive a back wall, and put on the first of three coats of paint.  Once he's done, we will, hopefully, be quit of contractors for the foreseeable future.

Which will be nice.

Today's blog title brought to you by Kelimcoons Belle of the Ball, and Leroy Anderson.  Here's your link.

Some photos from earlier, after Belle's triumphant return from the vet's: