The things we do for love...

Having a pet is like inviting a small tragedy into your life. A good friend of mine said that once and it's starting to make a bit more sense.

Four years ago a chunky tuxedo-wearing snugglepuss stuck his paw out of a cage at the Humane Society, hooking his claws into my sweater, and subsequently my heart. Since then, Dr. Albert McMeowsers has wooed his way into my life and later, into that of Orange (although publically he'll declare he thinks Bert is an @sshole, privately he has more photos on his phone of Bert than I do...) Albert is very much a member of our little family. Where we are, he is. On the couch? He's in between us. Chatting in the kitchen? He's on the floor behind us. Outside in the yard? He's pressed against the glass, watching. He has his faults to be sure (tunneling through the furniture with his claws, for example, and drinking from the toilet...) but we love him nonetheless. His funny little personality more than makes up for the early morning wake up calls and all-season allergies.

Bert has been feeling a bit under the weather, as of late. We've been back and forth from the vet trying various medications and treatments to alleviate him of whatever ailment is plaguing him, from stool softner to anti-seizure drugs. As a result, I know far too much about his daily routine and his "toileting" (to put it mildly) than one could ever imagine and my pocketbook is substantially lighter.

This weekend things took a bit of a wacky turn when Little B stopped eating and became crazy nauseous. Orange thought he'd taken our "fatty" comments to heart and was working his way into an eating disorder. I worried the vet's were going to start thinking I had Munchausen Syndrome. Either way, he's back at the vet again for an extended stay this time, and our house feels pretty empty.

I know it's silly, even though you're all going to tell me it's not. He's a cat, for crying out loud, not a child. Orange jokes that we're like ET and Elliot... When Bert's sick, I'm sick with worry ("I'll be right here...") But for those of us who have fur forever friends, you might get it when I say it's hard not to be smitten with them when all they give is unconditional love, and all they want is unconditional love in return. You come to rely on those little faces at the door when you come home, their little snuggles on the couch. So... I'll do whatever he needs me to do, including worrying like a crazy person until he's tucked back in beside me, paws up.

Night night, Little B.