Twiddling My Thumbs in the Waiting Room

I've been spending a lot of time in vet's offices these days. Yesterday Mr. Bebop had his ultrasound at the Central Texas Specialty Hospital. To reduce it to the bare facts, the old man has an enlarged prostate which is probably the result of an infection in the prostate. I'm mulling over the recommended treatment, which in itself can cause problems, and getting ready to discuss the matter with his regular dr. tomorrow.

While I was waiting for them to bring my baby back, I noticed two framed posters in the exam room on the subject of Cat Lovers and Dog Lovers. Since I am both, I can verify that they speak the truth:

Every dog lover should...

know his dog's birth sign;

leave phone messages for the dog;

get birthday gifts from the dog;

consider getting a cat for the dog;

see babies and think of puppies;

have a near-miss in traffic

because a dog was walking by;

have stepped in some;

barefoot; in the dark;

know better than to leave a closet open;

know all dogs by name, if not all owners;

be pleased to learn that 63%

of you sleep with them;

buy anything a dog is selling;

should be counted on to ask,

no matter what other awful things

are reported, was the dog okay;

understand they are never replaced;

AND you will fall in love again...

* * * * * * *

Every cat lover should...

appreciate good angora;

great vacuums;

realize, after much fruitless effort,

that "Here Kitty, Kitty"

is a courtesy, not an expectation;

know that furballs are bad;

curiosity is worse;

marvel that an animal could be

so tidy; vain; compassionate;

arrogant; goofy; independent;

needy; in the same five minutes;

like people with cats better

than the OTHER KIND;

not be particularly

ashamed ABOUT IT;

swallow roughly 16 lbs.

of cat hair in their lifetime;

should have given the cat a party;

a middle name; a bath; a pill;

have the scars to prove it;

know the look that says,

"I was going out anyway,"

cradle a new kitten

and know that nine lives

will never be nearly enough...

both by Teresa Eliot, John Boiler, Kay Smith-Blum

Let me just say that I have stepped on it, barefoot, in the dark, and I have scars to prove I've given pills to the cat.

I fear that we are in the waning days of the Bebop's rule, but rest assured that he will be given princely treatment and spoiled rotten until his last breath. He may be weak and wobbly legged, but those black eyes are still snapping out the orders which are not to be ignored. We are greeted at our regular vet's by every technician asking "How's Bebop?" Yesterday he won over a strange staff, who told me "he's just the sweetest thing!". They broke the mold when they made that boy.

LSW