Passing me the cat, I tried my best to locate the bladder and failed miserably. This irked me to no end because I consider myself the medical authority on all our animals and I’m the one Paul comes to if anything like blood, or especially, eyes, is involved. And now I couldn’t feel a bladder? Unthinkable.
“I can’t find it!” I said, panic rising in my voice. “What if I can’t find it while you’re gone? She’ll be so uncomfortable!”
“Just keep pressing under there,” Paul reassured me. “OK, I’ve got to leave. Love you!”
“Yeah, right back atcha,” I muttered, supporting Duchess who, at this point, was grabbing at the rim of the sink and my belt with her front paws and giving a yowl of frustration.
You’ll be glad to know that with a little practice, within days, I am now an expert cat pee releaser. And I’m not bad at the other, either, but let’s not go into that. It’s Sunday morning, after all and I know you folks might be having sausage for breakfast.
“I gotta tell you, this is really too much of a load for one person,” I pointed out, wearily, to Paul during a recent phone call after listening to his pleasant day wandering a Dutch village and buying a fresh baked loaf at a local bakery that was dirt cheap because the Euro was so low. “I mean, Thomas won’t stay off the countertop, and Duchess not only requires help all day, but I have to clean her crate three times a day as well because she has accidents. I have to scrub everything down and change her bedding. I can’t have the house smelling like a litter box. And, to top it off, it’s over 100 degrees outside and I’ve got to wash down the horses over and over and put them in front of the fans in the barn to keep them cool. It’s just go, go, go, all day…”
“Well, I’ll take you to the lake for lunch when I get back,” he promised on the other end.
Lunch? I’m thinking breakfast and dinner too, pal. And maybe a Lake house.
But for right now, I’ll just take one day without having a cat dribble down my leg.