Too Much Time On My Hands

If I had a real project to complete over the week end I might not have been keeping such a close eye on The Kitty.

I think he’s sleeping too much. I mean, I know that in theory cats sleep like 23.5 hours a day. I know that. But, when you start to notice how much of the day your cat is sleeping is makes you worry – or, okay, you might not worry, you are much better adjusted than I am, everyone is better adjusted than I am, and if it was your cat, you would say “Hmm. The cat is still on the bed. The cat was on the bed two hours ago. That cat is smart”. See, in my world I see The Kitty as being too sombulant and difficult to arouse and non-responsive and these are not good things. I need to see The Kitty moving around a little bit, he can still sleep 23.5 hours a day but I need him to get up and change positions or move to the other side of the bed every once in a while. I need him to be able to tell me where he is, what the date is and who the president is and I need him to do this every two or three hours. He’s been such a couch potato that he let me sleep until almost eleven Saturday morning! I didn’t want to get up because there was this warm kitty lump somewhere on my body that was keeping me in bed. Every time I turned over there he was, purring, acting as a lumbar pillow, nuzzling, applying warmth to sore muscles, grooming my face, much like dermabrasion. I started to think “Cat Spa!”

Then I woke up and remembered I was supposed to be anxious. Normally, when he wants me to wake up and feed him he’s a lot more proactive about it. He tips the knife rack over, he shreds my utility bill or he tries to pull framed art off the walls. He is not a discreet or helpful animal. This “Cat Spa” thing is not normal.

I felt so bad Sunday I let him outside. I had this vision of him laying pale and thin at some feline hospice and the Make A Wish ™ folks hovering at his bedside as he whispers that his Wish would be To Go Outside! he hasn’t been allowed outside in so long that the only thing he wants is to lay in the sun in the back yard one last time… while I stand in the corner twirling my Lee Press On ™ Mustache of Evol rubbing my hands together and cackling about how I kept his ass in side even though back in the day he appeared all healthy and chubby and now he’s all dieing and skinny and I showed him what for and ya know HA.

And he wasn’t eating…

As Much…

And his box wasn’t as, um, boxy

And then the vet called and wanted to know how he was and if I wanted to bring him back in for another visit and I’m thinking “I can’t afford to bring him in again! We were just there!”, so I said “I think I want to finish out the current course of dewormers before I bring him in again and did I all ready schedule a revisit for 2 weeks hence?” and they said that was right and they asked if there had been any change and I said “no”.

I needed to chill out. I decided to blame his behavior on the cycle of the moon like I do when he howls all night and runs around like his fur is on fire – “Damn it! It must be a full moon”. But he’s sleeping all night! He’s moved where he sleeps so he’s curled up against my ankle instead of on my clean clothes! What if he’s so lovey because he knows he’s going to dieeeeeeee!

I am why my vet has such nice jewelry.