Aldoblog

I just ran into Cecil, our oldest cat, in the hallway. He was standing, staring at a penny right in front of him on the floor. There was a second penny just to the side. I asked him, “Are you eating those, or barfing them up?” He just looked at me.

Recently Rochelle has been coming home to find Basta laying in the middle of our bed, with a look that says “I’m the Queen of the Bed.”

I spoke too soon. Cecil has the same thing that Meebee had before Rochelle and I got married. We caught it much earlier, so he’ll get more benefit from the chemotherapy, but he does have intestinal cancer.

In related news, we spent $800 on tests for our 16-year old cat, Cecil, to learn that nothing is really wrong with him, except he’s old. A recent “Rhymes with Orange” comic strip explains that you should not think about these things by weight.

On Friday Basta went in for her annual vet appointment. The vet called her “chunky.” She was not amused.

Billie has the soul of a killer. Mouser that is. And proves it again while we’re in bed reading the Sunday paper.

A new mattress and box spring from McRoskey, and we’re spending more time than ever in bed.

Why there haven’t been any posts in more than two weeks.

God knows we’re glad 2001 is over but, in retrospect, it wasn’t all bad.

Two cats that hate each other, in one bed, on top of me. That spells d-a-n-g-e-r, with a capital “D”.