Doggie Truffles

March 10, 2000

I will point out that I am slightly disabled putting an entry tonight. Just moments ago, I suffered a small, yet very painful injury while I was unloading the washer.

You see I was putting the clothes into the dryer. My left hand was on the top of the washer, near the edge, when my cat Gable decided he wanted a bite of dinner.

So, anyway, Gable decided to jump onto the open washer, not onto the solid-topper dryer--the one in front of his food. And as my 20 pound cat was trying to perch himself on the edge of the open washing machine he nicked the cuticle of my left index finger with his claw. He put a nice little gash in it too.

As I have learned from more than my share of cat scratches, unless you clean it out immediately you're in for a lot of pain. So I made a bee-line for the bathroom sink, washed it thoroughly and applied hydrogen peroxide. Then I went in search of a band aid. A long time ago I bought a box of 30,000 Band-Aids at Costco. When you buy in such enormous bulk and there were only two adults using the Band-Aids you pretty much figure you have a lifetime supply.

Enter into the fray one small child. Small children are prone to boo boos and all boo boos must be swathed in Band-Aids The more the merrier.

Well, apparently we ran out of the plain variety adhesive strips.

But there are no shortage of Barbie and Star Wars Band-Aids Here's the thing, I don't dare use any of the precious Barbie Band-Aids, though there was one perfect for wrapping around the end of my left index finger so that I don't bleed all over the keyboard. Instead, in the interest of family peace and harmony, I went for the Star Wars box.

Here's the problem: all that are left in the box of Star Wars Band-Aids are some dark gray hexagonal shaped ones with a bright red picture of (Chuck tells me) Darth Maul.

Well, hexagonal Band-Aids might be all well and good for a boo boo to the knee or even elbow, but for the end of your finger they just don't cut it.

OK, I just yanked the damned thing off because one really needs to use their left index finger fairly often if they're a touch typist. Sort of throws the whole "touch" thing off in that equation.

Anyway, so the cat scratches my finger. Ow. The thing is, as I was loading the dryer I noticed that the intrepid Bill had his head in the cat box. The, I now noticed, smelly cat box.

Well, I shoo'd Bill out of the kitty litter. When his head came out I noticed he had a little mustache of kitty litter. Ugh.

Then I gave the whole situation some thought. I will freely admit that we're not so fabulous about cleaning the cat box around here, but then, I realized it's because you never really smelly dirty kitty littler, a really delicious scent. Then I realized that when I do clean out the cat box there's never any kitty poop in the cat box. Now I know that the cats do not poop around the house. So where was it going?

Oh yeah, dogs love to eat cat poop. It's one of the singularly most repulsive things I can think of, but to dogs, cat poop is like the finest truffles.

Mmmmmm, delish.

Until next time...