I have a math final next Monday. Eek! To counteract, I found out that officially, I do not need any more math to get my degree.
Today has me back to my glamourous real life. My geriatric kitty cat, Sable, the most beautiful kitty cat in the whole wide world, smells like pee.
I have sympathy for his plight. His eyesight isn't the best, and he has idiopathic neuropathy which means he stumbles around like a frat boy at the end of pledge week. After he pees, he often steps in it.
Because his other faculties have degraded, his sense of smell has taken on bionic properties and he refuses to use the litter box unless it has been treated like a hazmat cleanup site. My bottle of Bac Out is never far out of reach and that does the trick, unless I don't get to it before His Majesty has to go again. He will pee in the box, get out, and minutes later he'll poop on the floor.
I stuck him in the bath tub this morning and wouldn't you know it, he purred. I mean, he was pissed and all, but now he's in my lap, wrapped up in a towel, purring. I think he knows that the bath makes him smell better. Plus, it's further proof that I am his inferior.
What a magical post! I hope your day is pet accident-free.