Day: September 15, 2018

Snow Angels in the Sand

I can’t do Snowpals, but I can fall flat on my back, as I’ve demonstrated time and time again. It hurts even less when you’re actually really falling into sand.

Here and now though, there’s more to it than just plain fun. I don’t do yoga like Mom does, but there’s something in the peaceful white around me and the cold crisp air of the beach in wintertime that reminds me of the peace she finds in it.

It’s a slightly more dynamic savasana.

Like, way more dynamic.

Snowpal on the Beach

They say practice makes perfect, but let’s be honest, I’m not seeing any improvement here. I’m still terrible at snowpals, and I assure you, I’m trying really hard. I think the artistic gene in the Stewarts family vanished with Mom’s mothers, cause I sure as heck didn’t get a speck of it.

But at least the setting is stunning, even if my little pal here… definitely isn’t.

Through the Forest and to the Beach

The vet clinic is located in a truly beautiful part of Brindleton Bay, as I think I’ve said before. In the middle of a forest that is now covered in deep snow, from the ground to the top of the highest green pines.

If you know your way through it, you’ll find yourself going down a slope — careful not to slip — and into an opening, to the vastness of the Brindleton Bay beach. Today the sky is a beautiful bright blue and the sun is shining on snow-covered sand. It’s a landscape of whites and blues and it’s a spectacle I’m happy I’m able to witness.

The Vet

It’s definitely the season; at least in part. The vet’s waiting room is filled with sick pets and veterinarians walking back and forth, hurrying either to meet patients or wipe up some type of animal bodily fluid off the floor.

Like last time though, we are prioritized, because the blonde Stewarts heir hair opens you doors.

“Definitely a cold,” the helpful veterinarian tells me. “He’ll be okay, but we should keep him in observation for a few days. Nounou’s not getting any younger.”

I put a kiss on my grumpy cat’s head, and head back outside in the corridor, leaving him behind. I almost trip over Gram, who, she tells me, is here because her cat’s immune system didn’t walk into winter unscathed either. But she has more experience with this than me, and in a few wise sentences, reassures me that everything is gonna be alright.

Vet Season

Even cats are sensitive to the change of seasons. Or maybe it’s just that Nounou is getting old and more fragile. Or maybe it’s a bit of both. In any case, I wake up one morning and I can tell he’s not feeling his best; in spite of his festive little sweater, a mean cold has gotten to him.

It’s vet time! Back to the Brindleton Bay clinic. You know, the one that’s owned by Gram’s brother’s granddaughter. Or something. Hopefully, they fix him up as well as last time.