After coming back from Louis Catorze’s vet appointment on Tuesday, Cat Daddy and I debated how and when to Gabapentin him.
Cat Daddy: “You could do it in the morning.”
Me: “But that’s when he and I have our morning cuddles. Plus it means my day starts with a stress.”
Him: “How about when you come home?”
Me: “Can’t you do it?”
Him: “But then he’ll hate me. He needs to have one of us that he can trust.”
[Silence, tumbleweed, crickets.]
Anyway, I drew the short straw and I’m the bad guy. It’s not fun. But if I do it in the morning, because the little sod has the Post-Steroid Hungries, it seems I’m forgiven quite quickly.
In other news 9,083 sleeping spots aren’t enough, and you simply have to look for one more. Preferably one that isn’t anywhere near as nice as the others.
This is one of those times.
For reasons that we cannot fathom – and, quite frankly, nor do we want to – Catorze decided that, today, he wanted to sleep on the Marks and Spencer bag containing my nieces’ and nephews’ presents.
Cats: why? And, please, don’t bother saying “Because cat”. That excuse just doesn’t wash anymore.