Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke
Our cat has officially entered what I call:
“Restless Kitten Syndrome.”
Today turned into a fairly lazy day—at least for me. For her, it was a day full of frustration, boredom, and creative attempts to reclaim her former lifestyle. Since she remains confined to my room, she has decided that I am now her primary source of entertainment.
And by “entertainment,” I mean climbing all over me constantly.
Right after her surgery, she needed comfort, and we gave her plenty of it. Now, she has upgraded that expectation into a full-time service plan. She demands attention with increasing enthusiasm, clearly confused about why her life has suddenly become so restricted.
From her perspective, this makes no sense.
She wants to run, jump, and play fetch.
Instead, she gets… rest.
The vet gave us strict instructions: no activity. The incision needs time to heal, and one enthusiastic leap could undo everything. Unfortunately, cats are not known for her patience. She is energetic, athletic, and deeply committed to chaos.
To make matters worse, the medication keeps her slightly calmer than usual—but not calm enough to accept this new lifestyle without protest. She knows something is different. She just does not understand why we refuse to play with her.
Naturally, she has found a solution.
If she cannot play, she will use me as equipment.
The highlight of the day came during my planking session. Just as I started, she decided my back and legs made an excellent climbing structure. Now, one might assume that a cat adds useful resistance for strength training.
This is incorrect.
A moving cat adds unpredictability, instability, and a strong desire not to collapse mid-plank and accidentally squash your recovering patient.
I abandoned my first attempt.
I Tried my exercise again.
An hour later—after sufficient cuddling, petting, and emotional negotiations—I tried again. This time, I succeeded.
Victory, under these conditions, feels earned.
At the end of the day, her behavior makes perfect sense. She is bored, restricted, and full of energy with nowhere to go. Attention has become her only available activity, so she takes as much of it as possible.
We are now counting down the days. In about ten days, she should be free from her onesie and allowed to move more naturally again.Until then, I remain:
part caretaker, part furniture, and part jungle gym.