Adventures in Fine Dining
Two days ago I took my hellion BoyCat in for a persistent tummy-ache (Manifested by Mucho Gack) and general listlessness. This poor cat had that inward look: never a good sign.
He received Ringer's solution and an anti-nausea shot. The shot wore off at 3 a.m., and the Hellion gacked saline everywhere. Naturally, we went back the next day. He looked like he would die any minute.
Well, hmm, yesterday two stomachs were incised. Twenty four pony-tail holders, one green rubber band, and a sheet of cellophane were recovered. And here I thought he was interested in my chicken dinners and yogurt breakfasts. And I have TRIED to keep him off my desk--
Today I brought him home. He has a bald and stapled belly, a shaved place on one forearm, a no-worry collar, (which I removed since I am home) and general tiredness. He is eating though. I give him a little at a time.
The Queen of Spat.
However, GirlCat--normally a little princess, oblivious to all that does not suit her--is spitting mad, yowling, howling, growling, cursing and hissing. For some reason she does not want BoyCat around any longer and is a positive danger to his feeble person.
I assure you the evening we spent together as just girls was not at all special. There were no dancing Toms jumping out of fishcakes or anything like that.
She is in solitary confinement in the bathroom with all the amenities: food, water, catbox, chiffon shower curtain. There are no hair ties left, so this is safe. But I think I just heard the toothbrushes fall in there. When I take my shower in the morning I will be careful. She may be sharpening a toothbrush handle into a shiv. I wouldn't put it past her.
And poor Boy-Boy is devastated. He's cleaned her ears for her every day that I have known them. This favor is never reciprocated. And this is the thanks he gets.