Well, America's Favorite Housecat now hates me.
Here is why:
I picked up Watson from the vet (in a nutshell: he's doing well, gaining weight, a little bit anemic but they're keeping an eye on it) and got him home. I opened the cage door and let him in the house. He takes a few steps and I realize there's a big problem. He pooped in his cage, stepped in that poop, and is now leaving paw-shaped poop-prints all over the tile.
This is not good, for so many reasons. So I rush to get some paper towels and try to wipe the poop from his paws -- the two back ones are the problem.
This does not work so well.
Then, I apologize profusely to Watson, and pick him up, and carry him to the sink. I hold his paws under a stream of warm water.
This also does not work well. Now there are two kinds of poop prints on the floor: dry and soggy.
Not knowing what else to do, I pick up Watson, take him upstairs, strip off my clothes, and take him in the shower with me. I am very careful to hold him so that only his hind legs and paws get wet. I am very conscious of the fact that this might be the most ridiculous looking thing that anyone has ever done with a pet. It crosses my mind that if, for some reason, the police department barged into my house, I would have a hard time explaining what I'm doing in the shower with the cat.
The shower works. Watson's hind legs are wet. So is his tail, a little bit. But at least his body parts are poop-free.
Needless to say, though, Watson is not happy about being wet. He is not happy about being dragged into the shower. He is not happy with me.
I tried to dry off Watson with a towel. I give him some cat treats to reward him. I don't think I placated him.
Now Watson is napping, curled up in his favorite corner of the house. I'm sitting on the couch, looking at him as I type this. He looks so peaceful: paws crossed, a little ball of black and white fuzz, purring contently.
I imagine he is dreaming about me. And blood. And revenge.
I shall sleep with one eye open tonight.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Proving that some Web programmer has waaaaaay too much free time on his or her hands: there is a now a Web site which lets you wax off David Hasselhoff's chest hair.