You know, we're cruising along here. The kitten is a cat. The dog finally got his own minion, the kitten-cat. Last week, we had to tell Teddy he wasn't allowed to chase Blitz out of the living room. Since then, Blitz has gotten much more relaxed around us in the living room. He lounges on the couch. He lounges in the recliner. He sits in laps, my lap mostly.
But we still may have a problem. Seth may be having some moments of dementia.
The other day, Seth walked down the stairs and stood at the bottom and cried. This was the loud kind of crying, like when I accidentally burned turkey burgers on the stove and Seth felt the need to warn me the house was burning down as I rushed around trying to open windows and clear smoke. Mike was pissed about that one. We had to wash the walls and cabinets in the kitchen to get the black out. Let's just say that I do a whole lot better when I don't eat sugar. Sugar is not my friend. My mind goes completely haywire when I eat sugar. No sugar. None.
But Seth's crying was loud like that, a foghorn warning, sirens screaming, coyotes hunting. He had water. He had food. His litter box wasn't too far gone with kitten poop.
Who knew what it was?
"Seth honey, come on up stairs. Here kitty, kitty. Come on up," I shouted down the stairs.
And he came upstairs, looked at me on the couch, leaped into my lap, and stood there as if trying to find his dignity.
We may be in for some days with Seth. I'll let you know.
Thank you for listening, jb
But we still may have a problem. Seth may be having some moments of dementia.
The other day, Seth walked down the stairs and stood at the bottom and cried. This was the loud kind of crying, like when I accidentally burned turkey burgers on the stove and Seth felt the need to warn me the house was burning down as I rushed around trying to open windows and clear smoke. Mike was pissed about that one. We had to wash the walls and cabinets in the kitchen to get the black out. Let's just say that I do a whole lot better when I don't eat sugar. Sugar is not my friend. My mind goes completely haywire when I eat sugar. No sugar. None.
But Seth's crying was loud like that, a foghorn warning, sirens screaming, coyotes hunting. He had water. He had food. His litter box wasn't too far gone with kitten poop.
Who knew what it was?
"Seth honey, come on up stairs. Here kitty, kitty. Come on up," I shouted down the stairs.
And he came upstairs, looked at me on the couch, leaped into my lap, and stood there as if trying to find his dignity.
We may be in for some days with Seth. I'll let you know.
Thank you for listening, jb
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