Purrfect

We are going south for a while. Downstairs, Sig is negotiating with Sue, a new person to take care of our cats while we are gone. I can hear her, “No, that is way too much money.” Sig interrupts, “No, I tell you what…” then his voice trails off in a characteristic mumble.

The count is 4 inside, 1 out.

They are: Mollie and Lucy, our cat states women, Robert Parker, real name – Max, who abandoned his home up the street last summer and Rex, originally a small winsome stray, who after recovering from an intestinal parasite resembles a brick house. Zach lives on the front porch where he spends the bulk of his days on the glider with a heating pad.

Two of the cats have health issues. One needs an injection of fluids twice a week to prop up a kidney, another needs a pill a day which must be popped down her throat as she is not a pill-eater.  

Sue works part-time at our vet and owns 4 cats herself. She knows all of the cats, she can do the fluid adjustment herself rather than drag Mollie to the office, and she has given Lucy pills before. She is in a band and goes off occasionally for gigs. When she does she lines up a series of cat-sitters for herself. She is experienced, mature, and personable.

(OMG, she is now playing the piano downstairs and she is very good.) I wonder what she will want for Christmas next year?

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