Dancing with the Universe

I got up at 5am this morning to make breakfast, gather my things, and drive Other to Portland for his appointment. He is currently sleeping it off in the Annex, where no one is likely to disturb him but the occasional bat coming and going. He has his dinner, there's a pad under him, and he gets released in the morning.

( All fixed up and ready to go )

Only, the cat, has had an unusual life, and she isn't very smart, so her communication skills are off. I'm usually very good with cats; I can read body language and tone, and I use my own to talk back to them. But I cannot get any response from her unless (sometimes) I'm speaking in meows, which she recognizes as something other than human noises which have nothing to do with her. More crucially, her body language communicates very little other than high/low spirits -- she can't lead, she doesn't know how to catch my attention, she doesn't seem to move with any intention other than the whim of the moment (she's hyperactive). She loves pettings but doesn't understand what it means when I offer them from more than a foot away. And I've had very little luck training her. I'm contemplating getting a small litterbox for the times when she's upstairs with the doors closed, but I don't know whether she'll remember from years ago what it is and what it's for, or whether I can make her understand.

I'm not sure whether she has some sort of brain damage -- she was a rescue of unknown provenance -- or whether she's just particularly dim. I may have to resign myself to picking her up and physically putting her where she needs to go, like the food bowl or the bed. Normally I allow cats as much agency as possible, but she just stares at me blankly when I make what I believe are near-universal signs of "come here" and "treat/scritches". There's more than one reason I call her "floof".

The mouth rot which took almost all of her teeth may have contributed to her difficulty thinking. It's hard to tell.