- Stanley (the cat, not the neighbor or the grandpa) sat on my face this morning. Tail up, bunghole exposed, Sat. Right. On. My. Face. I guess that’ll teach me to hog my own pillow.
- Caesar the cat’s cancerous tumor has shrunk to half it’s original size. Hooray!! He’s still being quite an asshole about taking his medicine, so Kenny was given some covert number to call to place an order to get the meds in a tuna-flavored liquid format. It’s a fishy story, with sketchy details. No address is given, no company name – just a number to call, place your order, call back later and arrange for pickup and payment. WTF?? Is this some sort of Kitty Meth Lab that makes tuna-flavored meds on the side?? I don’t know. Kenny’s handling it. I sure hope the deal doesn’t go South – we don’t need a hit on us, not when we’re finally kicking cancer’s ass and Jack Bauer’s on hiatus.
- We’ve caught Caesar sleeping in the cat carrier, the one he cries and protests getting into as it always results in a trip to the vet. We’re not sure if he figures it’s the absolute last place we’d look for him and thus he’ll avoid getting his medicines, or if he’s trying to cowboy-up and face his fears.