Today Zoe went with me on some errands. The first stop was the vet, to get her weighed: 29.6lbs. Perfect. The second stop was the feed store, to buy some more dog food since we were out. It’s one of the few retail places around here where I can take her with me. She did pretty well at first, following me down the aisles - but then some people were tossing bags of kitty litter onto a shelf and she got nervous. I got someone to grab the food and litter I wanted to buy and we went to the cash register. She really wasn’t happy about that. I paid, we went to the truck, she jumped in. Then the guy put the food in the back of the truck.

When I started driving away I caught a smell. “Oh no, Zoe, no. Don’t tell me.” After a few more seconds it was a sure thing: she’d pooped. I took a quick glance in the back during a red light, and saw smears on the fabric of the cargo hold. Uggg.

I held my breath and opened the windows for the ride home, then grabbed the disinfectent and sprayed and scrubbed the cargo hold. Gross. Even worse was Zoe herself. She had been scared at the time, so her tail was tucked. And… yeah, she pooped on her tail. Smeared, in fact, since she had then proceeded to move around and sit as much as possible.

So miss Zoe got her first bath. She didn’t like being put into the tub, but when I turned on the water… holy moly, you’d've thought I lit a fire under her. She wanted out of that tub and out of that bathroom. I ended up washing her rear by clamping her head between my thighs as she tried climbing out of the tub, trapping her rear end in the tub. I sprayed her down, lathered her up, and sprayed her down again. She was ever so relieved to be let out of that tub.

And that was my fun for the day. My, can we do that again?

:: ::

Two days ago Jojo had his annual vet appointment. I realized it with only 5 minutes to go, for some reason it had slipped my mind, so I was racing around the house grabbing things. First I grabbed the kitty kennel carrier. He hates carriers. He went nuts last time he was put in it. So I tossed that idea and grabbed his harness and leash.

He did well enough in the truck, though he was obviously unhappy with the whole situation. He apparently does NOT like vehicles. He yowled and pawed at the window. But once we were there he was great! I walked in holding a cat under my arm and announced his arrival. I took a seat down from a large boxer, who was panting in delight at being there (oh he was just so excited!). Now most people would worry about having a harnessed cat within sight of a large dog. But Jo was a star. I put him down on the seat beside me and he proceeded to look around. The dog didn’t merit any kind of special attention - it was out of reach and not too interesting looking, apparently.

In the exam room Jo flopped out on the exam table and let the vet do what needed to be done. Even the shots he got didn’t warrant any kind of reaction. Now Jo wasn’t happy to be there - a few times he crawled under the bench and layed down. But he was no hysterical kitty either.

I paid my bill with my cat standing on the floor, attached by leash to my wrist like any dog would be. He sniffed and tried pulling me towards the door.

And this is why we say he is more like a cat than a dog. I think he’s a bit confused. But that’s okay - we like him just the way he is.