I have a farting cat. Actually, I have two, but Grumpy is feeling better, so now only Playful farts. When Playful poops, the smell is so over-powering that it wakes Dr. Boy and I up from a dead sleep. In another room. He's been to the vet, and we've changed his diet. But, until we can keep Playful from licking the paint off the Ugly Wall, polish off the furniture, eating house plants, soap and garbage, we're stuck with the stink. Tonight, he found a Baked Doritos chip on the floor and ate it. He's a cat - he's not supposed to eat chips.
Which brings me to the point. Dr. Boy should not drop chips on the floor for Playful to eat. He shouldn't do a lot of truly stupid things. Here is tonight's example.
Playful has been romping around the couch. Which is, in and of itself, cause for suspicion when something stinks. But, since I'm laying across Dr. Boy, he suspects me. College professor, folks. We have a farting cat, and he suspects me. And, after I pointed out that I do not have any good reason to smell, he decided to check. He sniffed my feet, and then he moved on the rest of me.
He did not succeed.
I have recently been testing a theory. Some men are unmarried - others are bachelors. I live with a bachelor. He is truly the most un-house-broken-sorry-sack-of-I-can't-stand-it.
Moron better get me dessert 'fore I kill him.
XOXO, M
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