Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty

I have been cat sitting our neighbor's three cats since Friday.  I have nothing against cats.  Nothing at all.  I think that cats are fine animals.  Yes, they are independent.  That is part of what makes a cat a cat.

I had two cats when I was a kid.  One was named Frisky and I can't remember what the other one's name is.  Both cats disappeared, under suspiciously mysterious circumstances.  I am not convinced that my parents had anything to do with at least one of the missing cats, as it went missing right after mom and dad bought a case of cat food at Pay 'n Save.

I also had a cat when I was first living out on my own.  Her name was Cleo.  A friend of mine, who shall remain nameless, would come over with another friend of his.  Together, they would irritate and bother Cleo beyond what is socially permissible.

The nameless friend kept his motorcycle under cover in my garage.  For revenge, Cleo found her way under the cover up onto the seat and clawed the seat to holy heck.

End of friendship.

Anyway ~

Once a day, I ride the 4-wheeler up to the neighbor's and give the cats their treats.  I check their water bowls and dry food bowls, pet them and I try to play with them, only they have not been in a playing mood.  I am tempted to take Roxy with me, but I am not sure how to get her strapped on to the 4-wheeler for the ride.

Part of my duty is scooping out the three litter boxes.  That is not a part of the job that I look forward to.  The pooh and the pee isn't a problem, the problem is the dust from the kitty litter.  I do my best not to breathe the dust, but afterwards I feel like I have eaten kitty litter.  

The only thing that seems to take the kitty litter taste away is a frosty frozen margarita with salt on the rim of the glass.  I have rationed out my tequila and salt to get me through to Tuesday, when the neighbors get home from their trip.

Have the BEST day ever!

~ Dorothy