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Getting ready to be on the way
Am packing. Hate packing! Bad, evil, nasty packing! Boo! Hiss!
Broke with packing briefly for Recreational Cat Dosing. Yesterday, giving Mozart his drops went relatively well, but I cheated, having come upon my victim as he lay sleeping, sweetly vulnerable, in his hammock. Today, went...not as well.
Mozart was on the edge of the bed. I sat down next to him, talked to him and scrubbled his head, then treacherously grabbed the scruff of his neck and nailed him with the first dropperful of evil-tasting brew before he had himself in paw. The second dose got sneezed all over the bed, and I actually had to half lay over him and pry his jaws apart to get the -- my third, his second -- dropper into him. As I type this, he's sitting in the hall where I can see that he has his back to me, snurferling. Is this any way to treat a Poor, Sick Kitty(tm)? I'm such a bad Cat Mom.
Sigh.
Steve is back from the post office. None of the music I have on order has arrived *sob* but a book I'd forgotten I'd bought did. Which is, come to think of it, always the way. Except when it's not.
Back to packing, me -- oh, look! Scrabble found the Public Pocket Money I'd left on the bed, scattered it all everywhere and is now having an Instant Nap among the carnage.
Adorable little predators...
Packing, really.
No, really...
Broke with packing briefly for Recreational Cat Dosing. Yesterday, giving Mozart his drops went relatively well, but I cheated, having come upon my victim as he lay sleeping, sweetly vulnerable, in his hammock. Today, went...not as well.
Mozart was on the edge of the bed. I sat down next to him, talked to him and scrubbled his head, then treacherously grabbed the scruff of his neck and nailed him with the first dropperful of evil-tasting brew before he had himself in paw. The second dose got sneezed all over the bed, and I actually had to half lay over him and pry his jaws apart to get the -- my third, his second -- dropper into him. As I type this, he's sitting in the hall where I can see that he has his back to me, snurferling. Is this any way to treat a Poor, Sick Kitty(tm)? I'm such a bad Cat Mom.
Sigh.
Steve is back from the post office. None of the music I have on order has arrived *sob* but a book I'd forgotten I'd bought did. Which is, come to think of it, always the way. Except when it's not.
Back to packing, me -- oh, look! Scrabble found the Public Pocket Money I'd left on the bed, scattered it all everywhere and is now having an Instant Nap among the carnage.
Adorable little predators...
Packing, really.
No, really...