When Mama Takes a Day--or Two

It finally happened. COVID caught up with me. I know I must be the last person on the planet to get this virus, but then I've been very careful.

Having COVID in a multi-resident household can be complicated. My concern was not only about dealing with the illness myself, but also about protecting a vulnerable family member from the virus: that is, my husband. He has been recovering from complicated surgery and doing quite well. We want it to stay that way.

Keeping him safe meant sleeping downstairs on the futon, and isolating generally. This is something I could not explain to the family pets, especially the cat. This cat has its routine, and its very definite demands. The animal's peccadilloes possibly would annoy others, but not us. We indulge him.

Here he is sitting on the scratch post we recently bought (third one!).

This cat is old. At least 16. He eats many times a day, small meals. I am the food-giver. Whenever he wants his food refreshed, he nuzzles me. For much of the day he is close by. He gets fresh plates when the previous serving has dried out. He gets fresh water if the current bowl has been fowled by food that fell from his whiskers.

Here is a picture of the house we bought him recently.

Cats aren't known to be affectionate, but this one will actually climb on my lap and put his head under my arm when I'm typing. He'll paw me if my fingers continue to move.

You can see him below (cute, isn't he?). Yes, I am in my pajamas, trying to get a few Hive votes in before the day starts. He will not wait! Please note: many photos here are blurry. They were taken on the fly and the subject was not always cooperative.

Even though he eats many meals a day, the cat seems to be getting smaller.

When we first moved into this house and the cat started to visit us regularly, he was skinny. My daughter loves him (he's her cat), but she works and has a busy life. She can't empty his plate, and give him fresh food all day long, as I do.

Since the cat has become our regular visitor and has received perpetual feedings, he has grown a small belly. Still, he seems to be a slight cat, more slight than I remember in years past.

Here he is some years ago, hiding in a Christmas tree.

And here he is, again some years ago, sleeping with Tabby, a dog that is no longer with us.

These days, the cat doesn't stay away from me or my husband for long. Even when he is not eating he hangs close. We can't let him in the bedroom at night because he is a brawler. He wanders around howling and then jumps on my face when he feels like it. That's why we bought him the little house. You can see in the picture the house is heated, so at night he can be cozy warm. Here's another view of the cat's house, with him snuggled inside.

So why did it hit him so hard when I became ill? Because I had to move downstairs and isolate. I was not on my computer. I was not where I was supposed to be. He was confused.

He would sit on top of the stairs and look down. He would come next to the futon and stare at me. He would sleep next to the futon. He would climb on me.

One morning I woke and found him sitting quietly, on the futon, at my feet. I grabbed my phone and captured this shot.

While it's true the cat was strongly affected by the change in household schedule, the dog was not immune. He has his own daily demands.

When I get up in the morning, usually the order of chores is: feed the cat, see what husband needs, have coffee, invite the dog upstairs. He gets a small snack, and then gets a morning walk in the backyard. He also gets a lot of pets.

I was not allowed to pet him when I was ill, because my daughter didn't want him to carry the virus back to her. The dog would lie on the floor in front of the futon and wait for me to stir. He wanted me to pet him and seemed confused when those pets were not forthcoming.

Another loss, for him, was that he was not allowed upstairs. The dog is a walking vacuum cleaner. He will eat anything he finds on the floor. Therefore, before I allow him upstairs every morning, I have to check the floor and clean it--to keep him safe. There was no way I could clean the floor when I was ill. So, the dog was banished.

We're back to schedule now and he is quite happy. Here he is upstairs, on the bed, where he loves to sit. This shot was taken this morning. That's my husband petting him. This is a lively dog, but he is amazingly docile when my husband pets him.

Yesterday I was able to sit with the dog in the backyard. He found a spot of sunshine, a few bright rays that streamed over the front fence and reached us where we sat in the shady backyard. Here you can see him taking in those rays.

As I write this blog, it is November 8, 2025. My first COVID symptoms appeared on the evening of October 27. So it's been a few days that I'm dealing with the effects of the virus. But it wasn't just me. It was the whole house.

This past week reminded me of those years when my kids were young. All mothers know they are not allowed to be ill. The children don't get it. They need to be fed and dressed. Illness is a luxury enjoyed by other adults. That's what was funny about this week. It felt as though I had two children again.

Although there are other people who can pick up the slack and take care of the animals' basic needs, the animals want their routine. They do not feel secure when household order is disrupted.

Here is a shot of the cat enjoying a return to normalcy.

That ottoman is about two inches from my chair. It was originally intended for resting my feet, but has long since been appropriated by the cat.

Thank you for reading my blog. Now that the illness is abating I hope to be blogging more regularly again.

Peace and health (oh yes, health) to all.