Walk like an Egyptian......

 

We were encouraged by The Bangles in their hit single of 1986 to emulate the sand dance, though I feel the dance craze failed to catch on, certainly not in her Majesty’s Most Britannic Realms. The verses were clichéd and stereotypical whilst removing all references to anything vaguely historically accurate Egyptwise. No mention was made of Anwar Sadat, the Aswan Dam, Karnak or even Cairo, but rather we hear about cops hanging out in the donut shop way –oh way oh, the sand dance and the party boys in the Kremlin. Not very representative of one of the most ancient civilizations in history, whose magnificent monuments have lasted five thousand years to inspire, intrigue and impress. Despite the title there was a paucity of knowledge about the gait of the ancients and we are left none the wiser, unless walking oddly like a erect stork with hands extended meets the brief.

No doubt taking their “inspiration” from the graphic depictions of Egyptian Language and beliefs, the hieroglyphs, flat one dimensional representation of poses and gestures in flat relief. It must have come as a relief (!) when scholars deciphered the Rosetta Stone and were finally able to crack the ancient code of Egypt, which had long remained as unintelligible to modern man as text talk is to contemporary adults.
                                                          

                                        By hook or by crook, I’ll be first in this tomb. 

                                        The Hallelujah Horus

                                     By Osiris’ beard, Time for my afternoon dialysis.

As part of the preparations for mummification embalmers were certainly aware of the internal organs of the human body, and placed in canopic jars. Perversely, given their importance today and certainly to me, the kidneys were often ignored as harmless, like a blunt dolphin, a pointless porpoise.

I spy with Ra’s red eye a super absorbent cat, now with wings.

 Inspired by things felidae, the miaowing muse has ascended to my cyber afterworld. Cats were venerated and often worshipped, which is no surprise as they are still our adorable and godlike masters of affection. Indeed an often used phrase in todays modern parlance directly references the ancient cat God: 

                                                           A little Bastet

So what does an adoration of cats and the exploration of the human organs auger for this blog update?

Well, I attended the vets this week, not for me, obviously, though with all the health professionals I have seen since the transplant, a vet wouldn’t seem that odd.

As the little papillons were prodded and poked, tabletted and anally attacked with thermometers I spied, with my little eye something beginning with gigantic cat poster. And what was on this suddenly absorbing poster? 

 

 Fancy that, cats with renal failure! Now I have truly met my ideal soul mate. The dearly missed Bagpuss was old and grumpy, much like me, ate voraciously, much like me, and was in very good health, unlike me. Certainly he had no renal failure, so I marginally pulled ahead in the quirky characteristics race.

What horrors would these renally impaired felines have to endure, what manner of hideous medical torture would be used to prolong their lives? Was there somewhere a deranged felis catus scientist holding a clowder of cats hostage to medical experiments?

 Were there banks of mini dialysis machines laid out in a cattery somewhere with contented pets snoozing and snoring, reading and surfing the web on their Miaowpads? I was intrigued.

Naturally I enquired of my vet about how they treat feline kidney failure, and was astounded to learn that in some countries they actually perform cat kidney transplants! Morally there are some doubts in some countries, but not in the USA or Australia, where some states allow the transplantation of organs as long as the donor cat stays with the recipient cat's family, or the donor cat is feral or injured.

Humans obviously can consent to most medical procedures, but the language of the cat eludes us, hence the moral dilemma of non consent. Even I had to sign a form agreeing to my transplant, just in case......

In New Zealand tablets to treat renal dysfunction usually suffice, and if the disease turns terminal then the cat is put to S-L-E-E-P ( can’t say that out loud as it upsets Minke).

After the procedure the feline patient would have to endure long periods of inactivity, dozing, being kept warm and comfortable, being fed, and to have a companion to look after it's every need as it recovers from the operation.

 Such are the lengths that we go to for the modern day cat. The advances in both veterinary and human medical science have been significant since the days of the ancient Egyptians. From rudimentary anatomical studies to full organ transplants, from deification of the cat to its elevated status of today.

Indeed such are the lengths we strive for towards our pets, we too find ourselves worshipping at the claws of Bastet, lighting the Eternal Flame to brighten up a hazy shade of winter, making our ever busy lives less stressful, so that even Mondays can appear less manic.

Purrfect.