All of the animals are ill today, and it’s got me upset. Pablo the bodhisattva cat has a cold, and his sneezes are the most heartbreaking thing. How is he supposed to save the world like this? Tigger the gentleman kitty has been leaving very un-gentlemanly deposits in the litter box but still remains polite about it, announcing immediately that clean-up is needed in aisle 5. It’s already too late by then to spare our noses, but we appreciate the effort.
Mischa the dog has it the worst of all. His right ear hurts and is presenting in a sad droop that makes his otherwise perfectly symmetrical lion’s mane appear lopsided. He is even ignoring his Teddy, which normally provides for hours of bearish fun. I catch a view of this depressing scene each time I walk past the bedroom, where he has taken to moping since I informed him of our collective visit to the vet clinic later in the day. Maybe he thinks his depression will change my mind about taking him in, and I have to admit that I am tempted. Mischa has the uncanny ability to wear his heart on one furry little sleeve and could probably bring about peace between Palestine and Israel just by sitting there, looking worried.
Although every logical cell in my brain implores me not to, I am going to herd these three sickos into my car this afternoon and hope that World War III does not erupt while I’m driving. None of them are particularly good drivers, so I am counting on them to remain strapped into their passenger seats, arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times. It has all the makings of a bad joke. So an explosive cat, a bodhisattva and a Chow walk into a car…
I’ll give you the punchline just as soon I find out what it is.
