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Florence in Words

Blog on the Absence of Blogs

Usually, my reason for silence is depression. I don’t want people to know I’m depressed. I feel guilty for feeling depressed. I’m so privileged, I tell myself, I have no right to feel depressed. But there it is: I’m depressed, and after some silence, when I expect that the small group of readers who look at my blog already suspect that depression has me in grip again, I confess. So boring, as grey as the world outside my window today, half in rain, half in fog.

I’ll try some comfort. Two weeks ago, I passed the half-year point with Mr. Taksi, the cat who was to save me from depression. And yes, he still has the power to make me laugh even when I am supposedly teaching him something or even when I am severely cross with him for absconding with my favorite pen or pencil and hiding them so that he can’t get to them either. It’s clear that they won’t turn up until I buy a new couch. And he continues to follow me from room to room, and sometimes it’s because it’s nearing the time for dinner, though other times, it’s that Mr. Taksi wants to play.

Other symptoms: I don’t even try to write poems. I write boring journals that say only that I am depressed, or that I’ve broken a dish.

My friends continue to ask me about going to the movies, and I continue to say no, I’m not interested. So what have I done for the past two weeks?

This is a bit laughable: I’ve been reading—for the second time—The Japanese Lover by Isabel Allende. About a host of characters the most interesting of whom live in an idyllic old age home. No, I don’t believe it depressed me. I won’t blame the book, though it certainly has features that one might label “dark”—the treatment of Japanese during the Second World War, the sexual torture of one Eastern European young girl who is trying to leave that history behind her. And, of course, the inevitable death of the major character. So, yes, it’s a novel chock full of life as well as death and I can’t blame it for my depression.

And I will decorate with photos of Mr. Taksi…perhaps they will make this worth reading. (written on July 14, 2017) Read More 
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Six Months of Mr. Taksi, the Resident Cat

If I’m so pleased by Taksi, why hadn’t I moved earlier to adopt a cat? Three people very close to me are allergic to cats: my daughter, my daughter-in-law, my best friend, Helene. But they’ve understood, especially since he makes me laugh heartily at least once a day, often many times. And he now follows me around the apartment, settling into a nap if that’s what he needs, but waking up and moving with me, should I move.

And yes, he now wants to know what I am eating, and he’s interested in tasting whatever it is, though his palate is fairly limited. But he’s no nag. When I say no, he goes off.

Which brings me to language. Can cats, like dogs, learn verbal signals? I’m trying to answer that question, and I’ll tell you what I know at this six month point. When it’s eating time, Taksi is very excited and he used to stand up and try to knock the plate out of my hand. He’s over three feet when he stands up on his hind legs and he’s strong. So I’ve taught him the following words: “Sit” and “Stay.” And most of the time they work: I can actually get the food almost to the floor before Taksi moves to it. He’s now revised that little action to his sitting on the stepstool that I have at the end of the kitchen. And he’s dragged the place mat, meant to be beneath his food, to the top of the stepstool, where he sits. And it’s clear that he knows “Sit” and “Stay.”

He also knows “no,” especially when enunciated with volume and a special tone. He’ll drop something he’s carrying if I shout “no.” And he also knows the word “out,” issued usually from my bedroom, if he’s banging the venetian blinds to wake me and to amuse himself. He’s learned not to do that, since my response has been to lock him out of the bedroom, beginning with the word “out.”

I’d like to hear from people with cats who think they’ve been teaching their pets verbal cues. And, as a postscript, I’ve been trying to play fetch with Taksi, and I’ve made minimal progress so far. But he loves to play, and favorite toys are balls of paper or tinfoil, cardboard roll inside toilet rolls, anything that will move if batted. And a few times, so far, he’s carried the ball back to me in his mouth, as a dog would.  Read More 
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