Pussy (Cat)

We got back from Aruba on Saturday night. It's been a blur ever since. I still have not uploaded any photos, nor can I find my good hairbrush.

I slept for many, many hours Saturday night, Sunday morning and straight on into Sunday afternoon, when it was time to pick up the pets from the Yuppie Pet Palace Hotel That Ended Up Costing As Much As Our Plane Tickets, Even Though We Supplied All Our Own Damn Food.

Ceiba was...confused, as usual, like she sort of remembered who we were and that occasionally we fed her turkey bacon and oh! look! floor lint!

She's a bit constipated and is having periodic yet dainty sneezing fits, but otherwise is doing just fine.

Max surprised us by not being a royal bitch about everything. He's never been boarded before...usually our neighbors would just come over and feed him but they moved away and our new neighbor is absolutely terrified of Ceiba so I'm not even going to introduce her to our 15-pound Gigundocat. Anyway, every time we come home from vacation he gets a prissy funk about it and ignores us for days.

I don't think Max enjoyed the Yuppie Pet Palace Experience, despite residing in a luxury four-level kitty condo with fresh lambswool bedding (changed daily) and the fact that I provided food from home AND suffered the embarrassment of presenting "Puppy" to the kennel staff, which they all totally laughed at, because Puppy is, without a doubt, the most pathetic-looking stuffed toy you have ever seen in your life.

(Puppy once resembled a knock-off of the Taco Bell chihuahua, back when he had eyes and a nose and the ever-loving shit hadn't been kicked out of him on a daily basis. He has also been re-stuffed and re-sewn about a dozen times, and each time I ended up using whatever extra thread had come with my most-recent clothing purchase, which means Puppy has several oddly-colored seams that resemble gangrenous wounds.)

Max was very, very glad to see us. Max was glad to see CEIBA, and even curled up with her on my newly-diminished lap during the car ride home. But every once in awhile he'd stand up on his hind legs, put his front paws on my chest and stare frantically into my face, like, "IS IT REALLY YOU? CAN IT BE TRUE? OH, DAY OF GLORIOUS JOY!"

And he's been all cuddly and loving and clingy ever since. I'm thinking we need to dump his ass in the kennel more often. Perhaps we can board the baby at Yuppie Pet Palace Hotel too, since I'm still no closer to finding a damn daycare center than I was a few weeks ago.

Hell, they give them fresh lambswool bedding every day, how bad could it be?