FUCK the remote just got stuck on the Oxygen channel. FUCKETY FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK. It's like a car wreck and I can't look away and Grace Under Fire is on AND I WISH I HAD STAYED ON COMEDY CENTRAL.
*deep breath*
*pounds little runner buttons on remote some more*
Hey...good idea...get UP and hit the little buttons on the satellite reciever box. So old fashioned it actually worked!! Hurray for Law & Order! (Give me a few and I'll be yaulping the Simpson-esque cry for "Maaaaatloooooockk!")
So yeah, this morning I woke and up and walked out into the hallway to see what looked like the scene of a massacre. Seriously, blood all over the floor, on the stairs, on the windowsill. All nice and dried.
My cat, Fred, is an old curmudgeon and I think he went on another killing spree last night (I was wondering why my dad's truck was still in the driveway this morning). His old age is getting to him and making the old fart CAH-ranky. Prone to chainsaw murder sprees after everyone's gone to bed. There was blood outside my bedroom door...I think he was laying in wait for me, but decided at the last minute that I could live to tell the story of his murderous rampage.
Downstairs the kitchen was tracked with bloody pawprints, mostly concentrated by the food dish. (Hey, chopping people up at his age probably works up one hell of an appetite.) Really, though, Fred has a big ol abscess on his front paw and he's been licking at it and it's been making a friggin mess. Poor old bastard.
So, my day consisted of, so far, scrubbing up all this blood off the floor and cleaning off his poor bloody face. He's going to the vet, thankfully, this afternoon.
He freaked the hell out of me a couple hours ago when I put his still ass up on the sink to have a drink of water and clean his face off, and I left to go put something together for lunch, and I forgot about him for about 5 or so minutes and turned around to see Fred just sitting there on the sink, looking at me. So I ran over and before I got there I must have scared the crap out of him becuase he fucking jumped off and ran away from me...then 15 minutes later when I was at the computer I hear a YOOOOWWLLLL...yoooooowwwwwwl. I hollered his name and went looking and found him laying on the floor on the hallway and I though "Oh, shit. He broke himself jumping off the sink. Shittyshitshit."
But I went to get the phone and he walked out of the hallway as I was dialing my dad's work.
Have I mentioned that bleach makes me crazy?
The stories they have about cats having 9 lives are true...I'm telling you, Fred is living proof of all that.
We didn't pick him out when we got em, the man who was driving the truck and decided to throw his tiny grey and white butt out the window picked us out for him. And when we happened upon the tiny bundle of fluff, he had a big old hole in the side of his head, if I recall correctly, to the bone. We fixed ol Freddy right up, bag balmed his head and kept an eye out. I'm sure his brain was a little jostled from the toss and landing, but overall he's a good guy. Attacked my feet when he was younger...fulla spit n vinegar, and an unnatural lust for my Littlefoot plushie.
A few years later, he up and disappeared somewhere and was gone for a few days. Not too long after, he showed up looking a little worse for the wear with this huge gash across his throat where he had gotten stuck in some string and probably stuggled and thrashed around trying to get out. He came out of that experience with another scar.
So, I figure he's got about 7 more lives to go. And if the Bink doesn't chase him down the basement stairs, I think he'll be a-ok for a while.
He goes to the vet in an hour anyhow. | posted by Whatsername again....? @ 4/25/2006 10:03:00 pm |
|
*deep breath*
*pounds little runner buttons on remote some more*
Hey...good idea...get UP and hit the little buttons on the satellite reciever box. So old fashioned it actually worked!! Hurray for Law & Order! (Give me a few and I'll be yaulping the Simpson-esque cry for "Maaaaatloooooockk!")
So yeah, this morning I woke and up and walked out into the hallway to see what looked like the scene of a massacre. Seriously, blood all over the floor, on the stairs, on the windowsill. All nice and dried.
My cat, Fred, is an old curmudgeon and I think he went on another killing spree last night (I was wondering why my dad's truck was still in the driveway this morning). His old age is getting to him and making the old fart CAH-ranky. Prone to chainsaw murder sprees after everyone's gone to bed. There was blood outside my bedroom door...I think he was laying in wait for me, but decided at the last minute that I could live to tell the story of his murderous rampage.
Downstairs the kitchen was tracked with bloody pawprints, mostly concentrated by the food dish. (Hey, chopping people up at his age probably works up one hell of an appetite.) Really, though, Fred has a big ol abscess on his front paw and he's been licking at it and it's been making a friggin mess. Poor old bastard.
So, my day consisted of, so far, scrubbing up all this blood off the floor and cleaning off his poor bloody face. He's going to the vet, thankfully, this afternoon.
He freaked the hell out of me a couple hours ago when I put his still ass up on the sink to have a drink of water and clean his face off, and I left to go put something together for lunch, and I forgot about him for about 5 or so minutes and turned around to see Fred just sitting there on the sink, looking at me. So I ran over and before I got there I must have scared the crap out of him becuase he fucking jumped off and ran away from me...then 15 minutes later when I was at the computer I hear a YOOOOWWLLLL...yoooooowwwwwwl. I hollered his name and went looking and found him laying on the floor on the hallway and I though "Oh, shit. He broke himself jumping off the sink. Shittyshitshit."
But I went to get the phone and he walked out of the hallway as I was dialing my dad's work.
Have I mentioned that bleach makes me crazy?
The stories they have about cats having 9 lives are true...I'm telling you, Fred is living proof of all that.
We didn't pick him out when we got em, the man who was driving the truck and decided to throw his tiny grey and white butt out the window picked us out for him. And when we happened upon the tiny bundle of fluff, he had a big old hole in the side of his head, if I recall correctly, to the bone. We fixed ol Freddy right up, bag balmed his head and kept an eye out. I'm sure his brain was a little jostled from the toss and landing, but overall he's a good guy. Attacked my feet when he was younger...fulla spit n vinegar, and an unnatural lust for my Littlefoot plushie.
A few years later, he up and disappeared somewhere and was gone for a few days. Not too long after, he showed up looking a little worse for the wear with this huge gash across his throat where he had gotten stuck in some string and probably stuggled and thrashed around trying to get out. He came out of that experience with another scar.
So, I figure he's got about 7 more lives to go. And if the Bink doesn't chase him down the basement stairs, I think he'll be a-ok for a while.
He goes to the vet in an hour anyhow. | posted by Whatsername again....? @ 4/25/2006 10:03:00 pm |
