Chris Noland's Animal Adventures

The three legged cat is not in a good mood this week. He's started begging to go outside which is both good and bad. Good because he uses the litter box less, opting to go outside instead and consequently our house smells fresher. And by fresher I mean less like cat pee saturated litterbox and more like our dirty dogs. Bad because he has three legs which is an obvious disadvantage when it comes to defending his turf because other animals, unlike humans, do not stop to ooogle the awesomeness that is his missing leg. They just attack.

However, being the ninja that he is, he sometimes escapes through the door, usually by some means of misdirection causing us to turn our backs while he bolts through the open door. Long story longer, we decided to put a rabies tag on him just in case he escapes long term and is picked up by some glutton for punishment who does not mind a jaundiced, low and left leaning, eternally grumpy cat.

Kristen's clinic was out of cat collars though so he has a small dog collar on which is HUGE on him. In addition to the rabies tag, he also has a name tag with our phone numbers on them. Again, they were out of cat tags so he has a big dog bone on his collar that says Tucker. All total these things weigh about eight pounds. Tucker weighs nine. Tucker can't walk now. His head is weighed down on the floor so he just sort of pulls himself along the ground with his front paws. I might have to stage an intervention.

About 3am this morning I woke up with charlie horses in my legs and in a panic because something heavy was on my chest. OD, our affable yet adhd afflicted 50 pound dog had somehow opened our bedroom door and hopped on the bed and onto my chest, completely negating my ability to move. He was also sound asleep and would not wake up. And no joke, he snores. My arms were asleep and I was trapped. Kristen refused to wake up no matter how much I screamed. I sounded like Eric Cartman trying to crap out Disney Land, begging her to get OD off of me. No luck. I resigned myself to my misery and eventually fell back asleep. I'm in pain right now. I woke up to our halfway toothless, balding pomeranian Pee Wee licking me in the face. Sounds cute until he stopped, looked at me with his adorable little pomeranian face....and farted. Thats his thing now. He's seriously like an old man. Just doesn't give a damn anymore and farts whenever he feels like it no matter who's around. I'm not sure if I'm disgusted or proud. Probably a little bit of both. Such is my life being married to a veterinarian.