Dear Supporters of Bacon,
I hope you’re having a lovely June!
In some respects, I never know what to expect when I visit Bacon. He could be sleeping soundly. He could be wandering around the room, sniffing, exploring. Sometimes he’s curled into a little ball on a comfy bed under the desk, lulled to a quiet rest by the whir of the machines around him.
Today when I visit, he’s still in his house, hunkered down. As I peer in to look at his face, his eyes seem to be closed, but then maybe they’re not. I’ve seen my cats at home do this—half asleep and half awake—on the constant lookout for danger or, perhaps, adventure. I hate to wake him if he’s sleeping, so I settle down on the floor in front of him and grab for his bag of snacks.
Cats have amazingly good hearing. Oh so gently, I swish the bag back and forth, creating that tell-tale sound of small crunchy tidbits hitting the side of the bag.
His one eye pops open.
“Oh, so you’re not sleeping.” Cat napping.
His other eye pops open.
What I love the best about Bacon is his insatiable curiosity. Especially when it comes to snacks. He gets up and walks over to where I’m sitting as I’m looking around for a bowl. There’s a bowl, all right, but it’s filled with water. I wish I had something nearby I could put a few snacks into so it would be easier for him to get them out. On the floor, he tends to scatter them around as he tries to eat them. Sometimes I put a few in my palm, but often I’m in danger of getting my hand bit. By accident, of course.
But luckily, the next time I stop to see him, there is a bowl—empty—just waiting for a few snacks. A sure-fire way to a cat’s heart. Or so I think. There’s only one problem. The bowl with the snacks moves across the floor every time Bacon tries to slurp one or two of them into his mouth.
The kid is relentless, determined. He pushes the bowl inadvertently against the edge of his carrier. Wedged in (with a little help from my foot), finally Bacon scarfs up all the snacks in the bowl and then goes for a long drink.
“Great job,” I call out, reaching out to pet him.
He lets loose a bit of a snarl. Ooh, he’s in a grumpy mood. A few minutes later, he wanders over and sniffs my knee, and all is well.
One of the staff members snapped a photo of Bacon, his paws resting in a bowl. Waiting for snacks?
Earlier this month, Bacon had a misadventure that the staff are calling “The Bacon and Coffee Fiasco.”
At times, Bacon leaps from the floor to the desk where he lives, but sometimes he doesn’t look as carefully as he should. One day, he leapt up and spilled a cup of coffee over a cellphone lying there, which, of course, meant that staff member Tiana had to get a new phone! Someone said, “Rest in peace, phone. Long live punkster Bacon!”
I’m sorry to have to share that, in more serious news, Bacon suffered from several longer and more violent seizures this month. In the course of one such seizure, he must have bumped into something that irritated his face and caused a slight swelling above his left eye.
This is healing, and our veterinary team, as always, is exquisitely attentive to Bacon, doing everything they can to mitigate his symptoms and keep him comfortable and happy.
Thank you, as always, for your continued and generous support. You are the reason this delicate boy, with his rare needs, can thrive in as much comfort and peace as possible, surrounded by people who adore him. How fortunate he is to have you in his family.
Your correspondent,
Kate