chocolate pudding, anyone?

04-14-00

People at work consistently spell the word "dalmatian" with "tion" at the end. Dalmation. Over dinner, John and I wondered what the verb "to dalmate" could mean. We got over wondering what it meant and had a good time conjugating it. I think we had a little too much fun. Dalmate, dalmation, dalmationism, dalmator, dalmology, dalmatologist, dalmistry, dalmativism, dalmaphobia, dalmaphilia, dalmadelphia. Dalmate this, baby.

In other pet news:

Julia's doing great. The sore leg is still a little tender, but tonight she ran out to meet the car when we got home. She says thanks for all the cards and letters. Her exact words were: "Thanks, bitches."

As for Fleck, we're not sure what's wrong with him. A few weeks ago, Becky and I planted oat grass for our cats to eat. Her two cats and Julia sniffed it and walked away, but Fleck chomped that grass like crazy. Several times we spotted him huffing around the house with a stalk of grass dangling from his lips like James Dean's cigarette. After a couple days of oat grass consumption, the farts began. Cat farts have got to be the nastiest-smelling nasty in the world. We assumed the grass caused the gas, so we dumped that shit right off the side of the balcony and into the shrub.

The farts kept coming. Now he has diarrhea. I know that's really pleasant to read about, hope no one out there's eating dinner. I got some tips from Dr. Mike. Tomorrow we're taking Fleck's food away to cleanse his system. We'll feed him a little on Sunday, and if he's not doing better by Monday I'll have to take a fecal to work with me and have him checked out for parasites and creepy-crawlies. I really don't want to have to deworm my cats. That is so not fun.

John and I were bargaining, really wheeling and dealing, about who would have to clean out the litter box tonight. It's my turn, but I offered John seven bucks for his computer fund if he'd help. He offered me ten to do it by myself. I upped my offer to twenty if he'd do it by HIMself, and we settled on thirty for him, plus I'd make a trip to the store for rubber gloves and cat litter. He's such a good guy; I think I got off easy.