May 1st, 2006
It happens every few months.
Abbie comes cryin to me when I'm trying to sit down and have myself a read, and it's clear he's not content with the Food Level in his bowl, so off I go to put a few handfuls of kitty kibble in for him, and while I do this I go "Awww, izzums hungry? Izzums tarvin? Izzums tarvin to def?"
Then I stop, catch myself, realize what I've done, and feel absolutely terrible about it.
Not because I'm talkin baby to the cat, but because, well, that's kinda how the little cat went.
I hate it when that shit sneaks up on me like that, too. :(
It's like an unexpected kidney punch from a close friend.
|Date:||May 2nd, 2006 03:48 am (UTC)|| |
I recently changed screensavers and I forgot the random photos SS was set to run pics from my cats photo folder. So suddenly, up come the photos of Winston from 2 years ago. The ones we'd taken of him shortly before he died, along with the photos of the little copse of trees in B's parents' yard, where we buried him. *sigh*
|Date:||May 2nd, 2006 06:26 am (UTC)|| |
*lots of hugs*
*also, pets for abbie*
She was the little cat. Abbie, Abbie is not. He's really not little in any respect. I think it's ok to tease him a little. It might desensitize it a bit, too. Think of it as a celebration of his roundness instead!
Well, he's still got a healthy appetite, and believe you me, I've been watching him on that front. But it's just jarring to make a big ol' joke on him in the vein of "Well, that's how your sister died, so EAT UP FATTY"