Whoops…

Sean and I got our youngest cat, Quinn, as a kitten 2 years ago.  He’s all gray except for a small white patch on his chest – we call it his “cravat”.  He’s mostly a very sweet and friendly cat (he’s even sitting on my lap as I type this), except for the occasional moments when he goes completely feral, of course.

A few months ago, as I was lying in bed reading, my husband went to use the adjoining bathroom.  He didn’t shut the door completely and Quinn wandered in behind him.

All of a sudden I heard Sean yell “Quinn, NO!”.  But then he lost all his language skills and next came:

“Aghhhhh!!!  Pee!  Pee on cat!!  Help!”

Poor Sean – I was laughing too hard to do anything but curl in a ball and clutch my sides!

Apparently Quinn had to decided to see what Sean was doing and jumped onto the rim of the toilet bowl.  Then he slipped and landed in the bowl, four feet spread apart so he didn’t touch the water.  But Sean had already started to pee and couldn’t stop immediately (I’m told this is normal for boys?).  Quinn managed to get out of the line of fire, and luckily it took a moment for him to regain his balance.  I was still paralyzed with laughter, but Sean managed to grab him before he made it out of the bathroom.  (I can just imagine damp cat heading for the clumping kitty litter…)

We cleaned him up and he didn’t seem to be any worse for wear.  I think Sean ended up far more traumatized than Quinn was!

And you can bet he’s more careful about closing the door…

The most wasted of all days…

Lopez Island is my happy place.  You can have Disneyland, I’ll take Lopez any day.  Our family cabin may be rustic (i.e. unfinished walls and no running water), but some of my best memories are from family visits every summer.  I even called my Dad’s mother “Beach Grandma” because she had the beach.  (And I called my Mom’s mother “Little Grandma” because, well, she was little!)

Beach Grandma spent every summer at Lopez with her Dalmatian, Trisha.  (To this day my family calls Dalmatians “Trisha dogs”.)  Like most dogs, Trisha loved to roll around in things – the stinkier the better!  One summer she came back to the cabin reeking of a dead fish she’d found on the beach.  It was sooooo awful!  We raced around trying to catch her, trying to keep her from rubbing up against anything, or anyone.

With no running water there was no easy way to give Trisha a bath.  Instead, Grandma quickly grabbed for a can of Lysol to neutralize the stench.  Only after spraying down the poor dog did anyone notice that the can was actually hair spray!  Good ol’ Aqua Net.  It just sealed in the odor…and all we could do was laugh and laugh until tears streamed down our faces.

On the wall at Lopez is the poster below, that my parents purchased as a young couple.  It says “the most wasted of all days is the day when we have not laughed”.  Luckily there aren’t many wasted days in my family!

Bastian and the Gelatinous Glob

When Bastian (our first cat) was still an only “child” we lived in a 2-bedroom apartment (this time WITH a dishwasher!).  One day when cleaning the litter box I noticed a strange object the size of a large marble.  It was a gelatinous and appeared to be attached to a piece of poop.  Euuewww.  I called out (okay, it may have been more of a shriek) to Sean, who brought me a paper towel.  I gently touched the towel to the glob and it came away bright red.  Eek!  With hearts pounding we quickly looked up the vet’s phone number.

A typical paranoid “mom”, I explained what we’d just found, and worried that our beloved cat was bleeding internally.  The vet ran us through the usual questions – is he eating, is he acting normal, is there anything he could have gotten into, etc.  Considering I was watching Bastian devour the food in his bowl I said that yes, he was acting very normal.

The vet explained that sometimes cats can eat something they shouldn’t, or have a small problem in their digestive tract, that can cause a one-time issue.  But if he was acting normal and eating as usual then we should just keep an eye on him (and the litter box) for anything else odd.

We watched him closely for a week and all seemed to be fine.  Nothing else appeared in the litter box, and he seemed happy.  The next weekend my best friend came over, as she usually did, to hang out, watch a movie, eat snacks, or whatever.  We mentioned to her what had happened, but that luckily all seemed to be well.

After a long pause she quietly said “Well…he did like my red licorice last week…”

a bag of red licorice

The Great Communicator

When my husband Sean (my boyfriend at that point) and I had been living together about a year we got a kitten from his

Bastian

Bastian as a kitten

cousin.  We decided on the boy tabby – the “runt” who got picked on by the other two – figuring he would be the best to be an only cat.

We bundled the little guy into the carrier and drove him home from Bellingham to Seattle, a 90-minute drive.  The poor thing didn’t like being in the car and voiced his displeasure all the way.  ALL the way.  Did I mention it was a 90-minute drive?

It’s a good thing he was cute and we already adored him.  Though I’m surprised he had any meows left by the end.

That evening we tried out the name Dodger for him (as in “The Artful Dodger“), but he wasn’t coordinated enough to pull it off.  I’ve always loved the book (and movie) “The Neverending Story” so I suggested Bastian.  That one stuck.

One evening, when Bastian was young, I was standing at the sink doing dishes (our apartment at the time didn’t have a dishwasher – so barbaric!).  It wasn’t his dinner time yet, but Bastian came into the kitchen and meowed at me, clearly wanting to be fed.  I was elbow-deep in suds and grease so I told him “If you want food, go ask your dad.”

Bastian then proceeded to walk into the living room and meow at Sean – at which point we both agreed that we’d better feed him right away!

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