Friday, October 29, 2004

After a soggy start to my morning, the clouds disappeared and my pursuasive tactics worked on the British One, who opened the door to the deck. I spent a glorious afternoon lounging in the sun, dozing and warming my fur. Aahhh, bliss!

Today has not been without trouble, however. Softie snatched me up as I was walking down the hallway and put those awful medicine drops in my eye. She knows I don't like it, and she knows it upsets me, but it still happens to me three times a day. The two humans even have the nerve to tell me it is for my own good! In my younger days they would not be able to get away with it.

As awful as the eyedrops are, they are not the worst part of my day. Every evening the humans sit down in the lounge to read and watch a little television after dinner. I am quite happy to curl up on one of their laps, but as much as I'd like to have a nice nap, I know I must remain alert. I know that sometime during the course of the evening one of them will arise, go into the kitchen and get the evil, vile medicines from the big, cold foodbox. I know the evil, vile medicines will be mixed, put into a syringe and forced down my throat.

I HATE it. The medicines are supposed to taste of chicken, but they taste horrible and metallic. They make me foam at the mouth. The humans tell me they wish they didn't have to give them to me, and they tell me they wish I didn't need them, but I don't believe them. If they didn't get a perverse joy out of giving those evil, vile meds to me, they wouldn't! Personally, I don't believe that I need the meds.

Ever since they started taking me to see that horrible vet, Dr. R, things have gone downhill for me. Dr.R knows all about my tummy problems, and she knows all about my arthritis. She recommended a special, bland food, which is reason enough for me to dislike her. Plus whenever I have to visit her office it involves a journey inside the metal monster, which makes me sick to my stomach. Dr.R never sees me looking my handsome best. She always sees me covered in drool, trembling. It is not pleasant. To top it all off, she is the one who prescribed the evil, vile medicines. I cannot believe that Softie and the British One believe the stuff the doctor tells them about me.

You'd think I was on my nineth life or something.

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