If you were forced to give up one sense, but gain super-sensitivity in another, which senses would you choose?
Photographers, artists, poets: show us SENSITIVE.
Meet Fluffy, our blind cat.
“Mrs. Human, what’s blind?”
“Fluffy that is when you cannot see.”
It was then that I gave up. Fluffy had an accident when he was two years old, we do not exactly know what happened, but he was probably hit by a car near where we live. He found his way home, nose close to the ground sniffing his way. I will never forget that evening. We went immediately to the vets. He was kept for a week and we thought we would lose him, but cats really seem to have nine lives. This all happened nine years ago, and he is still with us, part of the feline family. He is still not aware that he cannot see, because everything else seems to compensate. He knows where his cat tray is, finds his food and drink and can climb to his favourite sleeping place. If we shift the furniture around (some time ago we had a move around in the living room), he needs time to get acquainted with the new formation. It does tear a bit on the heart strings to see him on his hind legs, pawing for a place on a chair which is no longer there, but after a few days he knows where he is.
Now to me: I am approaching an age where nothing really works 100% as it used to. I am not invalid, but things slow down as the human body takes its toll on life.
My sight is OK as long as I am wearing my glasses. I can no longer read without them and they are part of my dress code at home and outside. Driving a car without would be a danger to all.
I think my taste buds are also going slowly but surely. I know if something is salty or sweet, bitter or sour, but I notice that Mr. Swiss uses the aromat (Swiss equivalent of salt, no Swiss is happy at the table without Aromat) to spice up the food I serve. Personally it is spiced enough for me, and more would be overdone, but Mr. Swiss finds it sometimes “hospital food” and so he puts a little perk into his food with his aromat and is a happy Swiss.
Sometimes I would not mind missing my sense of smell, especially when one of my felines deposits part of their recycling process in their litter box.
“Mrs. Human that is not nice” and my chief feline Nera adds to my writing experience. “You know what they said about Siddartha that where he walked a smell of lotus flowers hung in the air.”
“Are you sure Nera, I do not remember that part of the book. I did not know that you were interested in the mysteries surrounding Siddartha.”
“I read it once on my pawpad, Hermann Hesse certainly had a point. I am a sort of Siddartha in the feline world and my feline tray has a perfect scent, in the Siddartha manner of things. I can identify it immediately.”
“So can I Nera” and so I decided to terminate that conversation (Nera is now glaring at me with her yellow eyes). My sense of smell in no longer what it was, but as long as I can take notice of the danger signals, such as burning, that is OK with me.
My hearing was never sharp. After growing up in London, England, amidst heavy lorries and busses, as well as main road traffic, the hearing does suffer over the years. I now live in a country where the cows and goats say good night to each other so my sense of hearing has recovered, although it is nowhere near perfect. Sometimes I find this not so bad. There are some things you do not really want to hear especially if you are trying to concentrate on writing an unforgettable piece of blog literature. At the moment all is quiet and I can only hear the wind whistling through the apartment (seems to be Swiss hurricane season today). If Mr. Swiss decides to listen to an unforgettable and unique piece of jazz music, then I change rooms, usually to the kitchen and close the door. I think that is more a matter of concentration that hearing – after all when D.H.Lawrence wrote one of his masterpieces, I am sure he did not have jazz music in the background. I must take care that my chances of becoming an unforgettable famous blog writer are preserved.
Which leaves me with touch: even that is no longer what it was. I almost managed to chop off a finger pad whilst cutting the hedge in the garden a couple of weeks ago, part of the nail disappeared. It has now renewed itself, although the nail has a new curve, but the finger more or less works. The tip has a sort of electric sensation at the moment. It can only get better. Actually touch is about the only sense that still works almost perfectly, although it is more common sense that I do not dip my hand in boiling water.
Reflecting on this intelligent piece of information, I have come to the conclusion that I do not have to give up any senses; most of them are no longer working as perfect as they should.
A sharper hearing would be OK, but something I could switch on and off as I feel. If I am reading or concentrating on writing my best seller, then I would switch it off. If I notice the neighbours are talking in the garden, it would be handy to hear what they are saying sometimes. Although I do have some nice neighbours, there are always a few bad seeds in the pod, but c’est la vie.
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