Hello Friends! I don’t know about you, but I have missed Oscar. We left Oscar at the vet’s office. While his vet visit went reasonably well, the same could not be said for Bailey. Today’s chapter resumes with Oscar’s return home from the vet. I dedicate this chapter to all those whose world seems just a little off kilter when they are missing loved ones and best friends…
Chapter Twenty-Nine—Long Day
I am not a big fan of car rides as a rule. It doesn’t matter where, or how long—any car ride is too long. This is more so when a cat has need of his litter box. Once we got home, Lolly couldn’t let me out of my kitty carrier fast enough. I shot out like a bullet—straight to my litter box. I was there for quite a while—who knew I drank so much water?
Now, Grandma Brown uses something called “clumping litter” in my litter box. She calls it, “the cat’s pajamas”—but trust me when I say jammies have nothing to do with clumping litter. It is quite good at keeping my litter box in order. Suffice to say the more water I drink, the bigger clumps I can make in my litter box. (it also makes covering my other business up a little easier). This litter can be a little sticky if my paws are wet, or if the wet parts of my bottom touch the litter.
Today, because I took such a long time using my litter box, a tiny clump of litter got stuck to my bottom by the time I was done. However, I didn’t really notice at first. I was still very stressed from the day’s events, and just a little miffed that a cat had to beg for even the smallest scrap of tuna—begging is for dogs! Dogs….sigh…I missed Bailey. Missing Bailey made me even more miffed—how dare they leave someone from my pride-pack at the vet’s.
I was busy walking around the kitchen and meowing my patented miffed/hungry begging meow. I had a long day, and was more than well deserving of a snack. After all, I was nice to the vet, and all the other animals in the waiting room. I was even nice to the humans I was miffed with. Diplomacy and restraint is hungry work for a guy like me. Both Grandma Brown and Lolly were in the kitchen—having a snack—when I joined them. I guess I could have added ‘having a snack without me’ to reasons why I was miffed, but quite honestly, I was just too hungry.
I was also feeling a little tired, so I tried sitting down. I don’t know what happened but the kitchen floor suddenly got very lumpy. Everywhere I sat, there was a lump. Lolly watched as I tried to sit down. It was not long before she started giggling. I was not impressed—first with all the accusations that I “barked” and now all this giggling when all I wanted to just sit down and have a snack.
“Oscar has a clump of litter on his bum!” Lolly squealed. I was so annoyed by the day’s events that I didn’t quite put together what Lolly was saying, and what was happening to me. Instead of figuring it out, I kept moving in circles trying desperately to sit. When I finally did figure out what was going one, I wasted no time in reaching down and doing some clean up. I was carrying around a huge clump on my bottom, and it was hard for me to clean off. At one point I needed to come up for air.
When I looked up at Lolly, I gasped, and stood there looking at her—with my mouth hanging open. Given the stressful and emotional day I was having, my eyes watered up a bit. When a cat gets watery eyes, they kind of squint and wink a little. This only made Lolly laugh even harder. She laughed so hard that she started hiccupping. Grandma Brown, took one look at me and nearly collapsed with laughter herself. Her laughter shook her body so hard, she had to hang on to a chair to steady herself.
My feelings were really hurt. First they foist a car ride, and vet visit on me. Then, they laugh at my growl-grunts of distress (and accuse me of barking!). Add to that, they leave my best dog-friend behind at the vet, and now, when I need help with a litter box problem, both Grandma and my Lolly are laughing at me. It was more than an orange guy could take. I started meowling. For those not fluent in the ways of cat, “meowling” is among the most saddest of distress calls. It is a combination of meowing and howling which can sound both terribly sad, and awfully eerie. I meowled right from the very depths of my sad heart. Normally, this would stop a cat-person cold, but not this time. This time, both Grandma any my Lolly started howling themselves—with laughter.
My patience reached its limit. I no longer cared that I was hungry—I couldn’t bear to spend another moment around humans so I hissed, spat, and stalked off best as a cat with a clump of litter on his bottom could do. I went to the only place that a guy missing his dog-friend could go—I curled up in Bailey’s bed, and finished grooming myself in peace. Sure the bed was pretty stinky, but the smell reminded me of my friend, and it helped me miss her less. Moreover, I doubted those two giggle pusses would stop laughing long enough to look for me there. I spent the whole night in Bailey’s bed. I didn’t care that my girl and Grandma Brown were calling me, and I didn’t care if, perhaps, my girl might have wanted me to purr her to sleep. I was sad, and my feelings were very hurt. All I wanted to do was hide from the world, and hope that my best dog-friend would come home soon.