Oh, envy.
So, I bonded with Tux and Boogie Man pees on my bag. Great.
Okay, seriously let me explain. There are two cats at the clinic I work with. There is Boogie Man; a black, overweight tuxedo cat who is about six years old. He greets me every morning meowing for attention. I love him. He’s so charismatic. He hops onto the receptionist bar-area-thing and craves attention from all clients. He pushes open the door to Room 1 to check out the patients and see what’s up. He’s lovable definitely. But then there’s Tux. He is a 14 year old, black tuxedo. Tux is getting older, living out his last days and is a lot calmer. He hides some times until I coerce him out. I’ve really bonded with him. I sit next to where he likes to relax (this sofa chair in one of the offices) and just pet him and read. I’ll carry him like a baby. Boogie Man won’t let me do that, he’ll nip you if you pet him too hard or man handle him. So, I nuzzle Tux. He’ll come in between of me and who I’m petting so I can be with him.
Well, I leave my bag on the floor, in the corner by my desk. Right, I’m doing my stuff, taking care of business and I go grab my camera out of my bag because I wanted to photograph Tux and Boogie Man cleaning each other. MY BAG IS COVERED IN CAT PISS. Great.
I failed to mention it to Dr. Duggan sooner than he asked, “have you noticed that one of the cats has been peeing out of the litter box?” I tell him I have and he says, “that means that one of them is angry.” I mention the fact that I have been more affectionate towards Tux lately. “That’s totally it,” he replies. He goes on to tell me how there was a woman who when she had a baby paid less attention to her cat. The cat then peed on the side of her bed, in her shoes, etc. Basically, Boogie Man peed on my bag because he was jealous.
I smelled like cat piss on the bus ride home.
Boogie Man
Tux
P.S. Mister B. Gone by Clive Barker is getting so much better. I am enthralled.
Okay, seriously let me explain. There are two cats at the clinic I work with. There is Boogie Man; a black, overweight tuxedo cat who is about six years old. He greets me every morning meowing for attention. I love him. He’s so charismatic. He hops onto the receptionist bar-area-thing and craves attention from all clients. He pushes open the door to Room 1 to check out the patients and see what’s up. He’s lovable definitely. But then there’s Tux. He is a 14 year old, black tuxedo. Tux is getting older, living out his last days and is a lot calmer. He hides some times until I coerce him out. I’ve really bonded with him. I sit next to where he likes to relax (this sofa chair in one of the offices) and just pet him and read. I’ll carry him like a baby. Boogie Man won’t let me do that, he’ll nip you if you pet him too hard or man handle him. So, I nuzzle Tux. He’ll come in between of me and who I’m petting so I can be with him.
Well, I leave my bag on the floor, in the corner by my desk. Right, I’m doing my stuff, taking care of business and I go grab my camera out of my bag because I wanted to photograph Tux and Boogie Man cleaning each other. MY BAG IS COVERED IN CAT PISS. Great.
I failed to mention it to Dr. Duggan sooner than he asked, “have you noticed that one of the cats has been peeing out of the litter box?” I tell him I have and he says, “that means that one of them is angry.” I mention the fact that I have been more affectionate towards Tux lately. “That’s totally it,” he replies. He goes on to tell me how there was a woman who when she had a baby paid less attention to her cat. The cat then peed on the side of her bed, in her shoes, etc. Basically, Boogie Man peed on my bag because he was jealous.
I smelled like cat piss on the bus ride home.
Boogie Man
Tux
P.S. Mister B. Gone by Clive Barker is getting so much better. I am enthralled.