Oct 5
Home at last
icon1 Guy | icon2 Events, Small Talk | icon4 10 5th, 2011| icon33 Comments »
Skinny Minnie napping.” width=

The ill-named Skinny Minnie cat naps on the back of the couch.

I got home yesterday (Tuesday) about 4:30 pm. I can’t lift anything. I’m still so sore it was all I could do to drag my cut up carcass into the house, which left it to Mrs. Sharon to do EVERY thing else. So, as I basically sat on the couch watching TV, still using my hands to delicately hold in my innards at every deep breath or cough, Sharon spent the rest of the evening hauling in stuff from the car getting supper and cleaning up what messes the cats had left.
We’d left them with sufficient litter pans, food and water to hold out for the 7 to 10 days we’d expected to be gone. We closed the door to our bedroom, to keep it off limits. But one of the cats managed to dart unseen through the door as we closed it the last time. This rotund ball of gray stripped fur goes by the ridiculous nom de plume Skinny Minnie. While the name fit when she first came to us, it has been many years since she could fit in her prom dress. I’d taken to calling her Fatty Patty, however Mrs Sharon nixed that name. So even as we watch her waddle down the hall, as wide or tall as she is long, we still call her Skinny Minnie.
It’s amazing how she can get that much fat moving so fast so quickly, but she can. And of course she picked the worst possible time to do it, darting unseen through a door that would remain closed for the next seven days.
As we opened the bedroom door, headed for blessed slumber, a much more svelte Skinny Minnie shot between our legs in a mad dash to the feeder and water dish. It became quickly obvious that we would not be sleeping in our bed this night.
Settling down in the guest bedroom, I lay in bed with the Yorkie friends who’d been keeping had returned a few hours earlier. We have a rug topped with towels on the bed, that are his bed. Sharon finished her chores and came to bed. Leaving her and the Yorkie, I went to the bathroom to start swapping and cleaning the various bags and tubes that will be my constant companions for the next 4 weeks. Just as I was finishing up, I heard a distressed, ‘Oh no! BINKY!” I guess there was just too much change and too much excitement for that little bladder. Sharon had stepped out of bed for just a second to grab another blanket. Binky stepped off his bed for some other business. On to the second guest bedroom, and our third bed for the night. Thus passed our first evening home.

- Guy Wheatley