Tuesday, May 4th, 2010
Like a child, Gizmo can be a handful for a sitter, I’m told. Apparently during my two week vacation she pulled out all the stops, from diarrhea to coughing up a sausage-sized hair ball, as well as falling back on some of her old antics, like crying to get what she wants.
Also, while I’m away—allegedly now—she not only requires breakfast at 5 am, but turns her nose up at one entrée (and appetizer) after another. There is some evidence to support the sitter’s claim. Mainly, there was enough cat food in the house to last a month. Now there’s only four cans left.
What’s next? Does she need a menu?
After spending time with my cousin’s very well behaved 100-lb. black German Shepherd during my trip—a top dog and obedience school graduate—I was beginning to wonder how I could have created such a little monster.
Still, I missed her terribly. When I walked in the door after 14 hours in airports and on airplanes, she was asleep on the couch. She open her sleepy eyes halfway, and let out a little cry when she saw me. Then, stretched her neck for a scratch under the chin. She looked like a little angel.
Suddenly, I don’t believe a word the cat sitter says. My cat is an angel.
Denial? No, not actually. At least if your worldview is shaped in part on the philosophical ramblings of George Constanza: “It’s not a lie if you believe it.”
It’s good to be home. That is, her home.
Posted in Featured | No Comments »