It being Monday night, I had the pleasure of a long talk with Frijole. It was a bit disjointed because ET started making some serious trumpet noises with his ass, sending out more mucus. I had high hopes after he had two small meals of prickly pear (nopalitos!). I guess The Boy will have to find time in his day tomorrow to take ET back to the vet. I do believe he passed a bit of stool (yes, so it's gross, it needs to be monitored considering he hasn't had a true bowel movement in a week, and instead passed two huge ass bladder stones and mucus). My poor little guy. I grabbed a stool sample and put it in the fridge. Don't worry about accidental ingestion, it is labeled. He is now sleeping his hard work off in his new Shiner shanty (thank you, Wikus, for the beer and the shanty). I do know that he has eaten some hay, and totally turned country bumpkin on me.
Can't you just hear him giving directions? Yep, go right on down that there road. Take a rightish-left turn near the yellow shanty. Cross over those green logs three times and it will be up there behind you on that hill a mile away over there. Yep. Don't forget that rightish-left. It can be right tricky.
Mattress is busy making out with my left boob. He is rubbing his head all over it and grabbing my paw with intense ardor. This is making typing quite hard. We got his bloodwork done recently, and he is our only child right now who is completely healthy. If you can call a 17lb Siamese cat healthy. Oh, god, he just covered me in happy drool! It is all over my chest and face, and it smells so bad. When he is really happy he starts drooling, then he has too much drool and feels the need to shake it all over those he loves. His mouth doesn't smell bad at all, but this drool is atrocious.
As far as I know, The Bear has not had any bloody poos over the past week, but for all I know he's shitting under the bed. That is his new sanctuary and possible restroom. We are squirting some seriously rotten-tuna-fish-smelling medicine down his throat at least once a day with an aim of twice a day. This is not leading to a happy Bear. He's a street kid, and he is showing his mettle right now in classic danger-avoidance techniques. Instead of whoring for pets, he is deeply engrossed in finding new hiding spots. We are doing our best to keep him out of the bedroom since a) we can't force him out from under the bed, and b) the possibility that he is displaying his displeasure with urine. We know this because it seems he whizzed (wizzed?) over every square inch of the office floor. This morning we found him in the pantry. Right now he is behind some books on the shelf of ET's hutch (well, it is not his per se, but his terrarium sits on top of it). This little perch is really nice because he is hidden from view by the books, and it affords a perfect view out the livingroom window. There are many grackles to yell at silently, or maybe slightly goaty if he feels rambunctious. I've taken to bribing him with wet food to make me feel better about forcing medicine in his mouth while he is screaming for help. That's right. You love me and you'll give me hugs, dammit. See, I gave you tasty fishy wet food. I am a good mom; just ignore that part with the screaming and grabbing.
Whoopis likes to nap. See, here's proof.
While going through these pictures from the past week, I notice that there is an overabundance of pictures of my ass. The Boy obviously has an addiction. Now I understand that my ass can win over warring nations, and bring peace to the world, but it is all for The Boy. I must respect his selfish wishes to keep my ass all to himself. Sorry kids.
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