Taz is still being a total pro about the whole thing, showing up cheerfully at feeding time, eating with gusto and completely failing to react to the shot. His glucose reading Friday afternoon was in the 280s, so the vet wants us to nudge the insulin up to 4.5 units twice a day. She said not to start on the weekend, though—wait till Monday in case of problems. Makes good sense.

Taz is one who gets in cuddly moods, and when he does, you find out by the large furry football that comes hurtling toward your chest. Last night he was in such a mood, but wisely decided not to try launching himself just yet. All he did was sit by me on the bed and give me the Big Blue Kitty Eyes. I’m no pet psychic, but I correctly interpreted that he wanted a cuddle, and picked him up. Purring ensued.

And tonight, a good sign, I think. Taz has always hated loud noises. On occasions when I have tried to practice violin or harmonica, he has sunk his teeth into my pants leg and ever…so…slowly tightened his grip until I stopped. He also hates it when Kevin and I conduct a conversation with me downstairs and Kevin upstairs. It’s not as bad as you might think—the acoustics in this house make it surprisingly easy—but it’s still too loud for Taz, who takes extreme offense and demonstrates said upon my person as previously noted. Tonight Kevin and I conferred briefly between floors, and Taz stood on his hind legs so he could put his huge claws on my thigh and get the noise stopped.