Ocean’s Eleven with us. Well, we invited them over to watch the movie with us, but the main reason we invited them over was so that we could give them a key to the house so that they can feed the cats while we’re in Gatlinburg. But you can hardly say "Hey, why don’t y’all drive half an hour to come to our house, pick up our house key, stay for ten minutes and then go away", now can you? Well, maybe YOU can. We can’t. Besides, they hadn’t seen Fred since his surgery, so they had to come ooh and ahhh over him, although just between me and the 1200 or so of you who wander through here each day, when he’s wearing a big, loose t-shirt, you can’t really see a difference, because those big, loose t-shirts? They camouflaged his tiny little belly so you couldn’t really see it before, and therefore, you can’t really see the lack of it now. Of course, I can see the difference, because he poses butt-ass nekkid in front of any possibly reflective surface he passes, and I get to see it, but I’m in the minority. Where was I? Oh yeah, so Fred’s parents came over to watch the movie with us, and they drove their brand-new car. They used to have a white truck, and apparently it was time to trade it in, and guess what they bought? A frickin’ FORD FOCUS. Y’know, like I want, because I love small cars and the Ford Focus comes in yellow? Yeah, that! Okay, I just searched my site for the words "Ford Focus", and apparently I’ve never once mentioned my love for the Ford Focus. But I do! I love the Ford Focus, because at heart I am a driver of small cars, NOT big SUVs, and the Ford Focus comes in yellow, and while it’s not my pure, perfect, clear yellow, it’s certainly close enough for government work. Egg Yolk Yellow, it’s called. Warms the heart, does it not? Anyway, the bastards bought themselves a Ford Focus, and the only thing that prevents me from eating my heart out with bitter jealousy is that they got the sporty version, and I would prefer the simple, plain, less fancified version. Ahhh, perhaps some day….
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I finally wrangled the spud into going into her room with me yesterday after she’d finished her homework, and we methodically went through every piece of clothing, every toy, every EVERYTHING she has in her room, and she ended up getting rid of three garbage bags full of clothes and toys (which we’ll be donating to the Downtown Rescue Mission this weekend), and filling a large box of stuff to "store" in case she wants it when she grows up and moves out of the house, and her room? People, you can actually WALK around her room, you can SEE the floor, and I DUSTED in there, which is something that does NOT get done regularly, unfortunately. But it looks so good in there now that I’m going to take her shopping for a new comforter this weekend to complete the new clean and cozy look. "If you’re careful," I told her last night at dinner, "Before Grammy and PaPa come to visit in two weeks, we’ll only have to dust and vacuum in your room, instead of spending two hours cleaning!" A mother can dream, can’t she?* * *
I was in the bedroom folding laundry this morning, when I turned and saw Spot in the closet, sitting very very still. His tail was very still as well, sticking straight out behind him, and the more I looked, the more it seemed that he wasn’t actually SITTING there, that he was more SQUATTING there, and so I stomped my foot at him and said, sharply, "SPOT!" And he didn’t move. Which is very odd in and of itself, because Spot is so neurotic that if you so much as mention his name in passing, he has diarrhea about it for a week. If you happen to be walking across the room and he’s somewhere in that same room, he loses. his. shit. and starts dodging around like you’re trying to capture and torture him. And then he has diarrhea for a week. Anyway, he still squatted in the closet in that same position, and finally I walked into the closet and nudged him with my foot, whereupon he ran out the closet door and headed for open ground on the side of the bed away from the closet. Where he had been squatting was a tiny puddle of pee. I wiped it up and went to look for him. He was squatting on the other side of the bed in the same position. I called Fred. "You’d better call the vet’s and make an appointment," I said, and told him why. "Are you going to take him?" Fred asked. "I can’t get him in the box," I told him, remembering the last time I’d tried to put Spanky in the carrier box, and how utterly unsuccessful I’d been, and reasoning that I’d certainly have difficulty with dorky, skittish Spot. After a short conversation with Fred, who made it clear that I had to step up and get Spot’s ass to the vet so he wouldn’t have to stay there overnight while they tried to get urine from him (uh, Spot, that is. Not Fred), I hung up the phone. "He just kind of freezes and goes limp when you pick him up," Fred had told me, "He doesn’t spazz out like Spanky does." And it was true. I got the box, I put it down next to the squatting Spot, grabbed him, tossed him in, and closed the top. Then I left him in there while I quickly took a shower. All the other cats sniffed about, while Spot sat there quietly. He’s such a good boy. We’re still waiting to see what the vet has to say, but I predict it will be something along the lines of "He has a urinary tract infection, dumbass." In fact, I’m so sure of it that when I was picking up groceries earlier, I made sure to pick up a bag of cat food made especially to "promote urinary tract health." We were feeding Urinary Tract Health food to them before, when Spanky was having his problems, but they didn’t seem to care for it, so we went back to the regular food. Bad idea. I guess if they’re hungry, they’ll eat it, right? Speaking of cats and food, we need to put Tubby and Miz Poo The Portly on diets. And since there’s no way to only put two cats on a diet, they’re all going to have to go on a diet. Once we’re back from Gatlinburg, we’re going to go to feeding them twice a day, instead of leaving the food out all the time so that they can suck down food whenever they want. Y’see, Tubby gained five pounds in the last year. FIVE pounds. Now, if you or I (assuming you’re not a lollipop girl) were to gain five pounds, we might wail and smack the scale and cry to the gods, but honestly, no one else would probably be able to tell by looking at us. Tubby, on the other hand, weighed 17 pounds last year, and now weighs 23. We can no longer blame his tubbyness on big bones (but really, he is. He IS big-boned. He’s just got a lot of fat on top of those big bones). The last time we tried taking the food away except for 15 minutes in the morning and 15 minutes at night – two years ago or so, I think – the only cat who really freaked out was Spot. Who has no weight problem at ALL. And while he doesn’t eat much, he likes to know that he CAN eat if he wants to, I guess. They all quickly realized that Fred fed them when he got up in the morning, and so they’d go into his room and howl and climb all over him earlier and earlier each morning – we’re talking 2:30, 3:00. That’s when he started keeping his bedroom door closed so they couldn’t get in. We’ve decided that this time around, I’ll feed them around 9, after I’ve been up for a while and exercised. And if they start trying to wake me up at 3 am, I’ll shoot the bastards with some canned air. I’m guessing that Spot will have diarrhea for three weeks when we change the way they eat.
Miz Poo considers it rude to stare at her while she’s trying to clean her belly.
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So, remember last week when I sent out a cry for help, because I was searching for a particular Calvin and Hobbes strip? Big thanks to reader Lisbeth, who sent me the strip and the picture. For your perusal, this is the picture:
and this is the strip from whence it came:
The reason I wanted to see the picture so badly is because one morning a few weeks ago, Fred came to wake me up to say goodbye before he left for work, and I was sound asleep with, as he put it, "A big, goony grin" on my face. And then he mentioned that Calvin picture, and for some reason, I just HAD to see it. Now I can rest easy. Thanks, Lisbeth!
Okay, let me check. Cute picture of Miz Poo? Check. Cat stories? Check. Cool comic strip? Check. Okay then, that’s it for today, y’all!
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