Thanks to my mom for that title...it's all hers.
So, most of you know that my mother moved in with me with in the last month. She brought with her two cats, which added to the 3 that already rule the roost here at the micro-mini ranch. Buddy and Kibs are hers, and mine are Boston, Norm, and Celeste. Celeste doesn't have too much to say in this story, as she doesn't come out from under the bed very often.
There was the normal hissing and spitting contests that happen when new cats are introduced to one another. We didn't think it would be much more than growling and batting at one another, as all cats are in the advanced adult age, all but 2 are over 10 years old.
A couple of days ago, mom came to me holding Buddy, saying, "I think he broke his tail." We examined him, and his tail did have a lump in it, but he was holding it up, and it would wag around. He cried when we touched the lump, and we felt bad.
Now, Buddy is a special needs cat. We don't know if he has a birth defect or was malnourished as a youn'un, but he's extremely skinny, and his back legs are too long for his body. He's got really bad balance, and he walks just plain funny. Teetering from side to side, he often stumbles and falls on his rump. We try not to giggle at him, because we don't know if it hurts his feelings or anything like that. For the most part, Buddy is a happy cat. He loves to snuggle, and years of being in a neglectful home, prior to Mom rescuing him, he was picked on by other cats. It has given him a spunky attitude. He doesn't take crap from anybody. He will bitch-slap any cat that gets in his way. Or so we thought.
We figured he took a slightly harder than normal fall, and bumped or sprained his tail. We were pretty sure it wasn't broken. The other thought we hard was that one of my cats, Norm, had bitten him. So we decided to watch Buddy's tail and see if the swelling was more like and infected bite. As I said, the tail was up and swishing, so while we were concerned, we weren't whisking him off to the vet just yet.
Fast forward to yesterday afternoon, when I picked Kibs up for a snuggle. He's got a little hernia on his belly, that he's had forever, and doesn't seem to bother him much. But when I picked him up, he cried like he hurt. I figured I put too much pressure on his little belly, and vowed to be more careful in supporting him when I picked him up. He is also a sweet heart, and a rescue, and though we aren't sure, we think he's the oldest of the bunch, which would put him in the 16-17 year range.
Last night I bent down to pet him, as he is always at my feet looking for love. As I ran my hand over the base of his tail, he made a pain noise. Oh no. And oh yes. He's got a bump on his tail, too. WTF?!?!
He, like Buddy, has his tail up and swishing, so it's not broken, but damn if he doesn't also have a swollen bump, too. What is going on here??
We've made the tentative conclusion that both of the new cats have been part of some weird Kitty Hazing Ritual. Mr. Norm, who is the most gentlest cat when it comes to people, is a weee bit territorial around other cats. I'm thinking he's throwing his weight around, and making sure that everyone knows who's king of the jungle around here.
Rotten little bastard.
Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cats. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Musings from the Junque Pile
It's been interesting here at the micro-mini ranch. For the last month or so, we've been dealing with a very sick kitty. Boston is 14, and probably the most "interesting" of the herd. When you hear me complaining about being woken up at 4:30 by yowling Boston is the culprit.
He'd been loosing weight lately, which was strange because he was eating and drinking normally. The yowling was not contained to just early morning, but that was when it was the most prevalent. Then his nose got super congested. I didn't worry about a cold so much as the weight loss and constant agitation that he seemed to be in. But his nose never cleared up, and finally we decided he should go to the vet.
In recent years, he has decided that he does NOT like the vet, and gets very growly and hissy, so they have taken to knocking him out when he goes for his visits.
Xrays showed that this lungs were not congested (thankfully no pneumonia), and his other organs looked OK. Blood tests showed his liver is fine (thank God - one of my most beloved pets, Molly, died of some sort of liver disease almost 3 years ago, and it was heartbreaking). His glucose was fine, but that his thyroid was out of kilter. So the doctor sent Boston home with some pills. He was to take 1/2 of one twice a day, and they'd recheck in a month. The doctor didn't seem overly concerned about the nose congestion.
Giving a cat a pill is never a fun experience. I'm sure you've all read the old email forwards. Almost as funny as giving a cat a bath. However, we were told that it was ok to crush the pills and hide it in his food. I've been crushing the pills up and putting the powder in milk, and he's been drinking it like the treat that it is. My main problem is keeping the "special" milk away from the other cats, who are quite put out that Boston is getting a special treat, and they can't have any!
So after a month or so, Boston's stuffy nose was getting worse. He can barely eat or drink without snuffling and sneezing. He was contantly streaming goo, and has taken to running from me whenever he sees a kleenex in my hand. I even went so far as grab a baby's snot sucker in an attempt to relieve his nose of some of the crap in there. HE REALLY REALLY DOES NOT LIKE THIS! heh. I am such a mean kitty-mommy.
But then he started to run a fever. And he started hanging out in the bathroom. All the time. We could take him out of the bathroom, but he'd always go back in there. He wasn't hiding, which is a good thing, but he was not coming out of the bathroom, and he started not coming out for meals. And I became really concerned. I moved a litter box into the bathroom, along with some food and water. He appeared to be eating and using the litter box, but the fever was really bothering me.
His follow up with the doctor was a week away, but I convinced DaHubster to call and move up the appointment. They went, they knocked him out again, took more blood. The doctor was convinced that the drippy nose is a virus, and therefore antibiotics would be inefficient. He gave us a supplement in treat form that should boost his immune system to help him kick the virus. We got his bloodwork results a day later, and his thyroid is much improved. So is the yowling. Apparently hyperthyroidism creates high blood pressure, with makes cats very agitated which results in yowling, super needy attention seeking, and the dramatic weight loss. He went from being a hefty 16 pound tomcat to being an 11 lb frail old man in a very short time.
So the pills were working, he was putting back on some weight (I am now not feeling every vertebrae when I pet him), he wasn't yowling constantly, but he's still hanging out in the bathroom, but now coming out for attention occasionally. I moved the litter box and the food out of there in an effort to get him to come out more, and it's working, but he still spends the majority of the time hanging out on the lip of the bathtub.
However, something else has happened during all this that wasn't noticed immediately. Boston has lost his hearing. Whether it was the virus, or the thyroid, or what. He is now stone deaf, and I feel awful about it. I guess I figured it out when he was coming out for meals anymore - opening a can of cat food usually brings the herd a-runnin'. But more times than not, I would have to pick him up and carry him to the kitchen. He didn't come when I called him. And he didn't turn around if I came up behind him. Again, I'm heartbroken, and I feel like a bad kitty momma. What could I have done differently? Probably nothing, but still.
I guess there's one silver lining in all of this. Boston has always been one of the more ornery cats. As he's aged he's mellowed. Now he's the sweetest. And now that he's not so needy of attention, he's more pleasant to be around. He seems to be accepting of his own hearing loss, more so than I am anyway.
He'd been loosing weight lately, which was strange because he was eating and drinking normally. The yowling was not contained to just early morning, but that was when it was the most prevalent. Then his nose got super congested. I didn't worry about a cold so much as the weight loss and constant agitation that he seemed to be in. But his nose never cleared up, and finally we decided he should go to the vet.
In recent years, he has decided that he does NOT like the vet, and gets very growly and hissy, so they have taken to knocking him out when he goes for his visits.
Xrays showed that this lungs were not congested (thankfully no pneumonia), and his other organs looked OK. Blood tests showed his liver is fine (thank God - one of my most beloved pets, Molly, died of some sort of liver disease almost 3 years ago, and it was heartbreaking). His glucose was fine, but that his thyroid was out of kilter. So the doctor sent Boston home with some pills. He was to take 1/2 of one twice a day, and they'd recheck in a month. The doctor didn't seem overly concerned about the nose congestion.
Giving a cat a pill is never a fun experience. I'm sure you've all read the old email forwards. Almost as funny as giving a cat a bath. However, we were told that it was ok to crush the pills and hide it in his food. I've been crushing the pills up and putting the powder in milk, and he's been drinking it like the treat that it is. My main problem is keeping the "special" milk away from the other cats, who are quite put out that Boston is getting a special treat, and they can't have any!
So after a month or so, Boston's stuffy nose was getting worse. He can barely eat or drink without snuffling and sneezing. He was contantly streaming goo, and has taken to running from me whenever he sees a kleenex in my hand. I even went so far as grab a baby's snot sucker in an attempt to relieve his nose of some of the crap in there. HE REALLY REALLY DOES NOT LIKE THIS! heh. I am such a mean kitty-mommy.
But then he started to run a fever. And he started hanging out in the bathroom. All the time. We could take him out of the bathroom, but he'd always go back in there. He wasn't hiding, which is a good thing, but he was not coming out of the bathroom, and he started not coming out for meals. And I became really concerned. I moved a litter box into the bathroom, along with some food and water. He appeared to be eating and using the litter box, but the fever was really bothering me.
His follow up with the doctor was a week away, but I convinced DaHubster to call and move up the appointment. They went, they knocked him out again, took more blood. The doctor was convinced that the drippy nose is a virus, and therefore antibiotics would be inefficient. He gave us a supplement in treat form that should boost his immune system to help him kick the virus. We got his bloodwork results a day later, and his thyroid is much improved. So is the yowling. Apparently hyperthyroidism creates high blood pressure, with makes cats very agitated which results in yowling, super needy attention seeking, and the dramatic weight loss. He went from being a hefty 16 pound tomcat to being an 11 lb frail old man in a very short time.
So the pills were working, he was putting back on some weight (I am now not feeling every vertebrae when I pet him), he wasn't yowling constantly, but he's still hanging out in the bathroom, but now coming out for attention occasionally. I moved the litter box and the food out of there in an effort to get him to come out more, and it's working, but he still spends the majority of the time hanging out on the lip of the bathtub.
However, something else has happened during all this that wasn't noticed immediately. Boston has lost his hearing. Whether it was the virus, or the thyroid, or what. He is now stone deaf, and I feel awful about it. I guess I figured it out when he was coming out for meals anymore - opening a can of cat food usually brings the herd a-runnin'. But more times than not, I would have to pick him up and carry him to the kitchen. He didn't come when I called him. And he didn't turn around if I came up behind him. Again, I'm heartbroken, and I feel like a bad kitty momma. What could I have done differently? Probably nothing, but still.
I guess there's one silver lining in all of this. Boston has always been one of the more ornery cats. As he's aged he's mellowed. Now he's the sweetest. And now that he's not so needy of attention, he's more pleasant to be around. He seems to be accepting of his own hearing loss, more so than I am anyway.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Junque Yard - things growing in odd places
Earlier this week it was mentioned by an on-line friend that while she has great success with her outside garden, it's nearly impossible for her to keep a houseplant alive. I had to concur with her. I have extreme difficulty with houseplants myself. I take full credit for forgetting to water them, partial credit for owning a house that lets in very little sunlight (what the heck was I thinking?), and only survivor's guilt credit for the way my cats like to nibble on them. All of which creates a hostile environment inside for any houseplant.
My one exception to keeping an inside plant alive is a peace lily that refuses to succumb. I joke that every winter it starts its own unheard mantra: "Just 3 more months till she puts me outside for the summer." "Just 2 more months until she puts me outside for the summer.." the poor thing.
I brought it home from work about 3 years ago, maybe 4 now. It was located in the lobby, where it was over-watered religiously by another employee. It started to get root rot. It also had an infestation of little white bugs. I have no idea how this could be, as it was the only live plant in the area, and no where for those bugs to come from or go to. Anyway, it was on it's way toward dying, so I took it home to try and save it. I re-potted the poor thing, exchanging all it's soil for fresh, drying the roots and bulb by giving them an hour in the sun first. Then I left it outside until the weather turned too cool. Peace lilies prefer low light, so I figured it would do fine in the house, seeing as that's all I had anyway. It's spot of choice is in my living room picture window, however, that is also the spot of choice for my favorite plant muncher, Celeste. She's a long haired white siamese mix with angelic looks, but is really the devil in disguise. She nibbles the leaves, she digs in its dirt. The lily is her playground. And this poor, long suffering lily puts up with that, as well as my infrequent waterings until the time comes to give it a break from it's normal dose of kitty-loving and take it outside for the summer, where it rests up, gets indirect sunlight from under the roof of my back patio area, and more frequent waterings from the hose as I water everything outside, like a caring human should.
The reason why I bring this up today is because a couple of weeks ago, I noticed that another plant had somehow moved into the peace lily's pot. Now, I've had the occasional weed or clover pop in there, which is easy enough to pluck out, but this plant didn't look...weed-like. My brain tried to tell me what it was, but I refused to believe it, and decided to let it grow and see if it was true. Well, it's grown, and it is true. My brain was correct. I have a tomato plant growing under the canopy of the peace lily. How a seed got in there, I haven't a clue. I threw a couple of inches of potting soil in the pot when I brought it outside, but it was commercial potting soil, not a mix of soil and home grown compost. I didn't start any tomatoes from seed this year, as my aforementioned lack of natural light in the house precludes me from raising healthy seedlings (I have plans to install a grow light system in the basement in the future, but right now I lack fundage. But I digress...). I have absolutely no clue as to how a tomato plant is growing in my peace lily.
But it is.
And it is doing quite well, too.
I also have a stalk of wild corn growing the in a seam of concrete that runs between my patio and my driveway, but that's a story for another time. :)
My one exception to keeping an inside plant alive is a peace lily that refuses to succumb. I joke that every winter it starts its own unheard mantra: "Just 3 more months till she puts me outside for the summer." "Just 2 more months until she puts me outside for the summer.." the poor thing.
I brought it home from work about 3 years ago, maybe 4 now. It was located in the lobby, where it was over-watered religiously by another employee. It started to get root rot. It also had an infestation of little white bugs. I have no idea how this could be, as it was the only live plant in the area, and no where for those bugs to come from or go to. Anyway, it was on it's way toward dying, so I took it home to try and save it. I re-potted the poor thing, exchanging all it's soil for fresh, drying the roots and bulb by giving them an hour in the sun first. Then I left it outside until the weather turned too cool. Peace lilies prefer low light, so I figured it would do fine in the house, seeing as that's all I had anyway. It's spot of choice is in my living room picture window, however, that is also the spot of choice for my favorite plant muncher, Celeste. She's a long haired white siamese mix with angelic looks, but is really the devil in disguise. She nibbles the leaves, she digs in its dirt. The lily is her playground. And this poor, long suffering lily puts up with that, as well as my infrequent waterings until the time comes to give it a break from it's normal dose of kitty-loving and take it outside for the summer, where it rests up, gets indirect sunlight from under the roof of my back patio area, and more frequent waterings from the hose as I water everything outside, like a caring human should.
The reason why I bring this up today is because a couple of weeks ago, I noticed that another plant had somehow moved into the peace lily's pot. Now, I've had the occasional weed or clover pop in there, which is easy enough to pluck out, but this plant didn't look...weed-like. My brain tried to tell me what it was, but I refused to believe it, and decided to let it grow and see if it was true. Well, it's grown, and it is true. My brain was correct. I have a tomato plant growing under the canopy of the peace lily. How a seed got in there, I haven't a clue. I threw a couple of inches of potting soil in the pot when I brought it outside, but it was commercial potting soil, not a mix of soil and home grown compost. I didn't start any tomatoes from seed this year, as my aforementioned lack of natural light in the house precludes me from raising healthy seedlings (I have plans to install a grow light system in the basement in the future, but right now I lack fundage. But I digress...). I have absolutely no clue as to how a tomato plant is growing in my peace lily.
But it is.
And it is doing quite well, too.
I also have a stalk of wild corn growing the in a seam of concrete that runs between my patio and my driveway, but that's a story for another time. :)
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Musings from the Junque Pile
Happy Sunday! Happy Independence Day Eve! (???)
What a difference a day makes. The humid has ramped down, and it's a balmy 70 degrees this morning at the micro-mini ranch. A day when one might want to fling open the windows and let the breeze in. Well, maybe. I have to see how much the temps will climb later today. LOL
It seems that my weekends have become reversed. Saturdays are the days one usually try to get their cleaning and errand running done, with Sunday being the traditional "day of rest." I find that the older I get, the more Saturdays have become the day of relaxing and unwinding after the week of work struggles and drama. Sundays then become the frenzy of cleaning and cooking for the week.
I'm not saying I was a complete bum yesterday, but I will admit to a nap in the afternoon.
This being a three day weekend (YAY!), I don't feel as rushed as I would normally. However, if I want to relax and have some fun, today's the day for doing, if you know what I mean. I have a living room full of animal hair encrusted furniture that if they don't get vacuumed in the immediate future, will soon animate themselves and start shedding on their own. And probably begging for food.
I really need to take down the bird feeders, wash and refill them. Or I'm going to start losing some of my favorite birdie customers.
Weeding is always needing to be done out on the back 40 (that's inches folk - it's a micro-mini ranch for a reason). And I really REALLY need to move some of my colder weather crops (lettuce, spinach, sugar snap peas, etc) into a shadier location so that they don't die in the upcoming heat of summer.
And I need to come up with breakfasts and lunches for the week. If I don't, we will be sneaking off the fast food joints, and spending money that we don't have to fill the void.
I'm not complaining, but I am listing some of this stuff as a way to keep me honest. Everyone gets into a "I don't wanna do it" mood occasionally, and lets things slide. I've been there for awhile now - just doing the minimum to keep going, or "keep up appearances." I need to boot myself in the behind and get on top of things. Besides, I'm not such a psycho hose beast when the house is relatively clean, there's good food in the fridge, and more growing outside, and the place looks less like a tornado hit it (technically, it was more of a heavy duty windstorm that hit a few days ago, but unfortunately, I can't blame the weather for my lack of tidying, can I?...yes, I can.)
All right, then. Someone needs to come hide my Kindle, and yell at me if they see me playing games or posting delicious recipes that I find on Face Book.
K?
What a difference a day makes. The humid has ramped down, and it's a balmy 70 degrees this morning at the micro-mini ranch. A day when one might want to fling open the windows and let the breeze in. Well, maybe. I have to see how much the temps will climb later today. LOL
It seems that my weekends have become reversed. Saturdays are the days one usually try to get their cleaning and errand running done, with Sunday being the traditional "day of rest." I find that the older I get, the more Saturdays have become the day of relaxing and unwinding after the week of work struggles and drama. Sundays then become the frenzy of cleaning and cooking for the week.
I'm not saying I was a complete bum yesterday, but I will admit to a nap in the afternoon.
This being a three day weekend (YAY!), I don't feel as rushed as I would normally. However, if I want to relax and have some fun, today's the day for doing, if you know what I mean. I have a living room full of animal hair encrusted furniture that if they don't get vacuumed in the immediate future, will soon animate themselves and start shedding on their own. And probably begging for food.
I really need to take down the bird feeders, wash and refill them. Or I'm going to start losing some of my favorite birdie customers.
Weeding is always needing to be done out on the back 40 (that's inches folk - it's a micro-mini ranch for a reason). And I really REALLY need to move some of my colder weather crops (lettuce, spinach, sugar snap peas, etc) into a shadier location so that they don't die in the upcoming heat of summer.
And I need to come up with breakfasts and lunches for the week. If I don't, we will be sneaking off the fast food joints, and spending money that we don't have to fill the void.
I'm not complaining, but I am listing some of this stuff as a way to keep me honest. Everyone gets into a "I don't wanna do it" mood occasionally, and lets things slide. I've been there for awhile now - just doing the minimum to keep going, or "keep up appearances." I need to boot myself in the behind and get on top of things. Besides, I'm not such a psycho hose beast when the house is relatively clean, there's good food in the fridge, and more growing outside, and the place looks less like a tornado hit it (technically, it was more of a heavy duty windstorm that hit a few days ago, but unfortunately, I can't blame the weather for my lack of tidying, can I?...yes, I can.)
All right, then. Someone needs to come hide my Kindle, and yell at me if they see me playing games or posting delicious recipes that I find on Face Book.
K?
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Musings from the Junque Pile
Ah...another mild Saturday morning, and I am up way earlier than I want to be. Here at the micro-mini ranch we have a rare breed called, "the alarm clock cat." Boston is 14 years old, and very set in his ways. Unfortunately, his internal clock broke down awhile back, and anytime after 4:00AM is fair game. He's also never been able to tell the difference between a weekday and the weekend. Therefore all days are meant for waking before the sun comes up.
It might be safer to say he's part rooster. He starts crowing for breakfast usually around 4:30 AM. Pillows have been known to fly in his general direction when he gets his MEOW on. I also keep a water spritzer near the bed for when he really gets going. Unfortunately, once I get up to feed him, I'm usually wake enough that I cannot go back to sleep.
Today started off with Boston's typical RRRRRAAAAAWR, and my usual response, "SHUT UP."
Then his co-conspirator, Norm, who decides to up the stakes, invited me to play a game of Bed Mouse. If you've never played Bed Mouse with a cat, it's actually a rousing good time. But not at 4:45 in the morning. The rules are simple. If your foot under the cover wiggles, Norm will pounce on it and try to capture it with his paws and teeth. If you wiggle you foot even more, Norm will roll around on the bed in ecstasy, attempting to bring the Bed Mouse to submission. I am so good at this game, I can sometimes play it in my sleep. Not this morning, however. Norm has another talent that works in conjunction with Boston's alarm clock. Norm can pace up and down a sleeping person's body until he gets right over that sleeping person's bladder. And then he stands on that spot, and gets heavier, and heavier, and heaver. His little paws have these magic lead weights that suddenly appear. And the beauty of this talent is that he doesn't have to do anything. He just stands there on his opponent's bladder and gets heavier. It's a neat trick if you think about it.
Around this time, our dog, Muffett also decides that it's time for her morning constitutional. She will jump down off the bed, and pace at the foot of it. Her little nails go CLACK CLACK CLACK on the wood floors. She might give a gentle shake of her head, causing the tags around her neck to jingle in a merry fashion.
CLACK CLACK RRRRRRRRRAWR CLACK CLACK jingle RRRRRRRRAAAAAAWWWRR...
And as all this still hasn't worked (yet), the 3rd cat gets into the act. Celeste, our shy delicate flower of a cat will jump from the window sill, where she's been guarding us as we sleep. *POMPH!* Right into the middle of the bed. She will mince over the rumpled covers of the bed and meow in her tiny female cat voice, right in my ear. Just a single, tiny MEW. It's really such a perfect counterpoint to Boston's heavy-handed, disturbingly rooster-like siren call from the doorway (he doesn't dare get any closer, knowing he's in for a whack of the pillow or a face full of water.
With Norm growing heavier and heavier on my bladder, Muffett pacing down below, and Celeste being cute in my ear... HOW IS A PERSON SUPPOSED TO GET ANY SLEEP???
They aren't. That's the point.
Good Morning.
It might be safer to say he's part rooster. He starts crowing for breakfast usually around 4:30 AM. Pillows have been known to fly in his general direction when he gets his MEOW on. I also keep a water spritzer near the bed for when he really gets going. Unfortunately, once I get up to feed him, I'm usually wake enough that I cannot go back to sleep.
Today started off with Boston's typical RRRRRAAAAAWR, and my usual response, "SHUT UP."
Then his co-conspirator, Norm, who decides to up the stakes, invited me to play a game of Bed Mouse. If you've never played Bed Mouse with a cat, it's actually a rousing good time. But not at 4:45 in the morning. The rules are simple. If your foot under the cover wiggles, Norm will pounce on it and try to capture it with his paws and teeth. If you wiggle you foot even more, Norm will roll around on the bed in ecstasy, attempting to bring the Bed Mouse to submission. I am so good at this game, I can sometimes play it in my sleep. Not this morning, however. Norm has another talent that works in conjunction with Boston's alarm clock. Norm can pace up and down a sleeping person's body until he gets right over that sleeping person's bladder. And then he stands on that spot, and gets heavier, and heavier, and heaver. His little paws have these magic lead weights that suddenly appear. And the beauty of this talent is that he doesn't have to do anything. He just stands there on his opponent's bladder and gets heavier. It's a neat trick if you think about it.
Around this time, our dog, Muffett also decides that it's time for her morning constitutional. She will jump down off the bed, and pace at the foot of it. Her little nails go CLACK CLACK CLACK on the wood floors. She might give a gentle shake of her head, causing the tags around her neck to jingle in a merry fashion.
CLACK CLACK RRRRRRRRRAWR CLACK CLACK jingle RRRRRRRRAAAAAAWWWRR...
And as all this still hasn't worked (yet), the 3rd cat gets into the act. Celeste, our shy delicate flower of a cat will jump from the window sill, where she's been guarding us as we sleep. *POMPH!* Right into the middle of the bed. She will mince over the rumpled covers of the bed and meow in her tiny female cat voice, right in my ear. Just a single, tiny MEW. It's really such a perfect counterpoint to Boston's heavy-handed, disturbingly rooster-like siren call from the doorway (he doesn't dare get any closer, knowing he's in for a whack of the pillow or a face full of water.
With Norm growing heavier and heavier on my bladder, Muffett pacing down below, and Celeste being cute in my ear... HOW IS A PERSON SUPPOSED TO GET ANY SLEEP???
They aren't. That's the point.
Good Morning.
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