Looks Like The Cat’s Out Of The Bag

, , , | Romantic | September 3, 2017

(Our current apartment is too small to section off “Cat Free Zones” for my husband’s allergies, so [Cat] has been living with my parents until recently. He is only seven years old, but he had an undiagnosed health condition that, until two weeks ago, was completely asymptomatic. After an emergency vet appointment, fluids, drugs, and a terminal diagnosis, I pack him up and take him straight back to the apartment with me anyway, so we can do the best we can in his final days, because my parents aren’t able to give him the attention he needs. He has gone from a fat 12 lbs to a bony 8.5 lbs, and he has recently been refusing food completely [resulting in the dehydration that brought us to the vet for the emergency visit]. The vet gives me formulated high-calorie canned food to feed him, which he doesn’t like, but with trial and error over a few days, I finally come up with a routine that gets him to eat on a regular basis, and his strength has been improving a lot. Soon, I have my first double-shift day at work, leaving my husband to try and cope with my cat’s newfound finicky eating habits and schedule. This is the conversation we have when I check in during my break:)

Me: “How are my boys? Did [Cat] have dinner?”

Husband: “No, he won’t eat it.”

Me: “What did you give him?”

Husband: “A quarter of a can of formula, and a teaspoon of tuna.”

Me: “Did you microwave it?”

Husband: “Yes”

Me: “How long?”

Husband: “Like ten seconds.”

Me: “That’s too hot. Did you blow on it to cool it down?”

Husband: “Umm… yes.”

Me:*tsk, liar* Did you add a little bit of water to make it like gravy?”

Husband: “Yes.”

Me: “Okay, he probably doesn’t want tuna because he had tuna for breakfast. There’s some shredded pork in the fridge.”

Husband: “Right….”

Me: “And make sure you only microwave it for six seconds, so it doesn’t get too hot–“

Husband: “Okay, got it–“

Me: “And you have to watch him eat it, because if you aren’t watching him he’ll follow you out of the room instead–“

Husband: “Okay….”

Me: “And pet his head and tell him he’s a good boy.”

Husband: “Sure.”

Me: “And you have to sing ‘If I Had Words’ to him and do a dance around the living room while the barnyard animals watch.”

Husband: “…wait, what?”

Me: “I’m kidding. If he doesn’t eat the pork I’ll try when I get home; don’t worry about it.”

Husband: “I changed my mind; I don’t want kids. You are literally the most annoying mother on the planet.”

Why Would You Want To Pet A Fake One?

, , , , | Right | September 1, 2017

(Our store has a shop cat who is very good at sitting still. We’ve had a few people look in the window and ask if he is a stuffed cat.)

Customer: “May I pet your cat?”

Me: “Of course.”

(She comes up, pets the cat, once, twice, three times – then stops suddenly and looks up at me.)

Customer: “This is a real cat, isn’t it?”

You’re Going To Need To Sit(ter) Down For This

, , , , , | Right | September 1, 2017

(I have a regular job, but I also have a side job pet- and house-sitting. I charge different rates depending on how far I’d have to commute to my regular job, how many pets the client has, etc. I’ve recently finished a job with [Client A], who lives near me and only has one cat. She has recommended me to [Client B], who contacts me.)

Client B: “Hello, I need to hire a sitter. I’ll be out of town for 12 days.”

Me: “Hi, thanks for contacting me. First, a few questions.” *I ask for relevant info.*

Client B: “I have three dogs and two cats, and my address is [street]. [Client A] told me you charge $35 a day.”

Me: “Well, [Client A] was getting a different rate. For your care, I’d have to charge a bit more.”

Client B: “Why?”

Me: “[Client A] lives much closer to me and has one cat, whereas you’re on the other side of town and have multiple animals. It would take more travel and more work.”

Client B: “They’re easy to take care of. Just feed them and let them in and out.”

Me: “Even so, it would still be a much longer drive for me to get to work. I’d be spending extra time and gas every day.”

Client B: “Work? I thought this was your work.”

Me: “I also have a day job. Sitting is nice supplemental income, but it’s not steady enough for me to pay rent from it alone.”

Client B: “Rent? Why would you pay rent? Don’t you just live at your client’s houses?”

Mom Has Gone A Bit Bird-Brained

, , , , | Related | August 31, 2017

(My mother and I rescue a little sparrow that fell from the nest. After much talking about it, she keeps insisting that we have to release it as soon as possible, even though I’d like to wait a bit to make sure he grows strong and healthy enough. After much insistence on her part, we go to a nearby park and release the little guy. The very next day, this conversation happens:)

Mother: “Don’t you feel bad about him?”

Me: “What?”

Mother: “The little birdie. I miss him. Why did we release him?”

Me: “You were the one who kept insisting on it, Mom.”

Mother: “Yes, but we really shouldn’t have. What if some cat finds him? I don’t want to think about that. We should take him back.”

Me: “Good luck with that.”

Mother: “You’re coming with me.”

Me: “Wait, what?”

Mother: “We’re going to the park and search for him.”

Me: “Mom, it was a sparrow. A normal sparrow. There’s hundreds of them at the park at any given time, and they probably fly all around the city. It’s impossible to find that one.”

Mother: “No, we’re going to get him back. You released him; it’s your responsibility!”

Me: “I only did it because you kept asking me to do it!”

Mother: “You are just being lazy. Stop whining and come with me.”

(In the end, we spent three hours roaming the park, while she kept asking anyone passing by if they had “seen a little bird”, much to their amusement. Obviously, the bird never came back.)

Karma Strikes, Not With A Whimper…

, , , , , | Romantic | August 31, 2017

(My husband and I are relaxing at home, when he snaps shut the book he was reading. Our cat leaps about a foot in the air and looks around with eyes wide. She has a tendency to get easily spooked.)

Me: “Haha, poor little dum-dum. Awww. Were you scared? You’re way too anxious. You need to chill out.”

(I pet her to comfort her, and then walk over to get myself a drink from a glass. As I’m taking a sip, the doorbell rings, and I nearly jump out of my skin, my arm jerking reflexively and tossing the entire glass of water into my own face.)

Husband: *stifling laughter and petting our cat* “And that’s what we call karma, [Cat].”

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