Donny, as we've been calling him after the unfortunate vet visit, is still as hungry as ever. For example, he's currently drinking out of the glass of water I just poured for myself. Yesterday, he finished Brett's leftover barbecue sauce. And as soon as he smells any kind of food, he either cries his little heart out, or purringly jumps into your lap, as if to say, "I'm your friend. I'm nice. I WANT YOUR FOOD!" I know what all you parents out there are thinking: "Well, of course, he always wants your food. You keep giving it to him, you enablers, you." To this argument, I have no rebuttal. You are correct. We spoil our cat.
Our neighbors must think we're completely insane. We bought Donny a cat harness and leash and take him on walks like he's a dog. We've been spotted loading up a litter box and cat food into the car as we get ready to take Donny to Sioux Falls for the weekend to visit Grandma and Grandpa Peterson (aka Brett's parents). We're slightly obsessed. At least we admit it.
This morning I was in the bathroom getting ready, and Donny was in there with me. I had the door shut because I had just taken a shower, and I get very crabby when I have to face cold air after a hot shower. So the door remains closed at all times until I give the go-ahead. Donny kept meowing at me for something, but he's a pretty chatty kitty, so I didn't pay too much attention to it. After awhile, he jumped up on the counter and started sniffing the sink. "There's no food in there, Donny," I thought. A little while later, he started "scratching" the sink (except that he doesn't have front claws). "I'm telling you, you are not going to dig up food under there, buddy."
And then he squatted.
My eyes about jumped out of my face with sudden realization. "NO DONNY! Not the sink!" I grabbed him under his belly and awkwardly carried him to his litter box as fast as my little legs would take me, waddling the whole way to the guestroom, lest the feline let anything out before I reach our destination. I dropped him in his litter, a little less gracefully than anticipated, and watched to make sure our cat finished the task that it looked like he was about to begin just a few seconds ago. By this time Brett had joined us. Imagine two adults, staring a cat going to the bathroom.
Donny was successful, I'd like to announce. Even with his paws wet from the sink endeavor (I'm sure it's not very pleasant maneuvering--no pun intended--in litter with wet hands and feet), he went to the bathroom in his rightful place.
I'll try to be more lax on the door-closing rule next time. No promises though.
|Donny in his earlier years (i.e., a couple months ago)|
Photo courtesy of our wonderful brother-in-law, Rob
|i GUESS I JUST HAVE TO PUT UP WITH THESE PEOPLE. i'LL KEEP PUSHING THE CAPS LOCK BUTTON TO ANNOY rEBECKA AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. MWAHAHAHAHA!|