As I have shared before, my cat Smokey has kidney disease. He's actually Rob's cat Smokey, and has been for 17 years. He has been our cat for the last 3, at least.
What does this mean? Mostly that we take turns feeding him: cat food or blue corn tortilla chips, depending on what he's in the mood for; we open the door and let him walk around in the hall, rudely sniffing the neighbors; we endure his pensive nightly jaunts across our bodies as we try to sleep; and we inject him twice a week with fluids to help his kidneys work.
The injection falls mostly to me, but I'm ok with it since Rob is the exclusive handler of kitty litter duty. Plus, as I've also mentioned before, I'm better at it. So tonight, as we were watching another rousing episode of 24, I noted aloud that it was an injection night.
Rob and Smokey watch TV curled up in a ball together, so Rob leaned over and whispered in Smokey's ear, "Don't worry, I'll distract her and you can get away."
"I heard that," I informed them.
"RUN INTO THE BEDROOM, SMOKEY!" Rob yelled.
Jack is TWO!
3 years ago