Thursday, October 9, 2008


Our huge cat, 30 lbs at least, Dockie escaped the house yesterday. Nobody knows how and the when is in doubt but when my husband went out the kitchen door in early evening the big old moving ottoman trundled from between the garage and the funeral home screeching at him and telling him what a lousy owner he is for letting her face the big old world alone. She is good at that. Better than a teenager in whining, meaner than a fishwife shrew at nagging, Dockie the part siamese/part puma had an adventure and she wasn't going to let us forget it. She threw up. A lot. Then she got on the bed this morning-only the cat god knows how-and threw up on the quilt. Then she curled up in a ball on the floor right where hubby puts his feet down so he'd step on her when he got up and she could complain some more.

Sounds like some people I know.

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