Ugh, what a day
May. 22nd, 2012 09:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
monkey5sI've been home less than an hour and I'm exhausted. I still have to start laundry and get the trash out. The only thing I've done in this hour, aside from give the cats their food?
Clean up the big cat.
Sometimes Mr. Dash gets loose bowels. I've given up telling him to stop eating the damn birds he catches. And it doesn't happen often. But tonight was one of those nights where I could see that his britches were yucky. Long hair is not exactly compatible with diarrhea. Add in leaf litter and the occasional burr, and it gets nasty.
So, I had to nab him when he was waiting for me to put down his food. He immediately started struggling, and I was trying to just get him to the kitchen sink without, you know, wearing any of his ick.
Twenty minutes, two deep warning claw hooks, and three attempts to bite me later, he was mostly clean. Well, cleaner than he was. No clumps of fur with yuck caked in it. Of course, I might have missed a lot of it on the other side, since I wasn't able to turn him with the deathgrip I had to maintain on his scruff. And this kind of cleanup is never easy one-handed.
After all this hysteria, every cat except Chloe wanted out. Fine. I nabbed Chloe to give her the flea treatment- and she flipped out on me. Obviously keyed up from the Dash wrestling match. I did get the flea stuff on her, not me or the table, but it was a near thing. Then Bright Eyes wanted in, so I got her treated- with less success (meaning I had some on my hands, and hers is kind of all over her back instead of just on the back of her neck, like its supposed to be).
So. Tired. So so so tired.
Clean up the big cat.
Sometimes Mr. Dash gets loose bowels. I've given up telling him to stop eating the damn birds he catches. And it doesn't happen often. But tonight was one of those nights where I could see that his britches were yucky. Long hair is not exactly compatible with diarrhea. Add in leaf litter and the occasional burr, and it gets nasty.
So, I had to nab him when he was waiting for me to put down his food. He immediately started struggling, and I was trying to just get him to the kitchen sink without, you know, wearing any of his ick.
Twenty minutes, two deep warning claw hooks, and three attempts to bite me later, he was mostly clean. Well, cleaner than he was. No clumps of fur with yuck caked in it. Of course, I might have missed a lot of it on the other side, since I wasn't able to turn him with the deathgrip I had to maintain on his scruff. And this kind of cleanup is never easy one-handed.
After all this hysteria, every cat except Chloe wanted out. Fine. I nabbed Chloe to give her the flea treatment- and she flipped out on me. Obviously keyed up from the Dash wrestling match. I did get the flea stuff on her, not me or the table, but it was a near thing. Then Bright Eyes wanted in, so I got her treated- with less success (meaning I had some on my hands, and hers is kind of all over her back instead of just on the back of her neck, like its supposed to be).
So. Tired. So so so tired.
