Monday, July 17

The Straight Poop

Well, America's Favorite Housecat now hates me.

Here is why:

I picked up Watson from the vet (in a nutshell: he's doing well, gaining weight, a little bit anemic but they're keeping an eye on it) and got him home. I opened the cage door and let him in the house. He takes a few steps and I realize there's a big problem. He pooped in his cage, stepped in that poop, and is now leaving paw-shaped poop-prints all over the tile.

This is not good, for so many reasons. So I rush to get some paper towels and try to wipe the poop from his paws -- the two back ones are the problem.

This does not work so well.

Then, I apologize profusely to Watson, and pick him up, and carry him to the sink. I hold his paws under a stream of warm water.

This also does not work well. Now there are two kinds of poop prints on the floor: dry and soggy.

Not knowing what else to do, I pick up Watson, take him upstairs, strip off my clothes, and take him in the shower with me. I am very careful to hold him so that only his hind legs and paws get wet. I am very conscious of the fact that this might be the most ridiculous looking thing that anyone has ever done with a pet. It crosses my mind that if, for some reason, the police department barged into my house, I would have a hard time explaining what I'm doing in the shower with the cat.

The shower works. Watson's hind legs are wet. So is his tail, a little bit. But at least his body parts are poop-free.

Needless to say, though, Watson is not happy about being wet. He is not happy about being dragged into the shower. He is not happy with me.

I tried to dry off Watson with a towel. I give him some cat treats to reward him. I don't think I placated him.

Now Watson is napping, curled up in his favorite corner of the house. I'm sitting on the couch, looking at him as I type this. He looks so peaceful: paws crossed, a little ball of black and white fuzz, purring contently.

I imagine he is dreaming about me. And blood. And revenge.

I shall sleep with one eye open tonight.

Sunday, July 9


Well, if it couldn't be England, Spain or the U.S. (the three countries I have called home), I suppose I'm OK with Italy winning the World Cup. Britt and I will celebrate with a nice big pasta dinner, followed by a cruise around town on our Vespa scooters.

Saturday, July 8

Watson Snapshot

Watson, America's Favorite Housecat, makes his iSight camera debut:

You've Been Warned

The online Warning Sign Generator is occupying way too much of my time. See for yourself:

File Under: Web Sites I Wish I Had Never Discovered

Proving that some Web programmer has waaaaaay too much free time on his or her hands: there is a now a Web site which lets you wax off David Hasselhoff's chest hair.

Thursday, July 6

Watch Those Fingers Fly!

Proof of my typing prowess:

Sunday, July 2

Carbonated Greetings

I didn't get a birthday card from the Coca-Cola Co., which is surprising as Emory University is my alma mater. However, I did get a card from Pepsi-Cola. How unexpected.

Saturday, July 1

And Many More

Happy birthday to me,
Happy birthday to me,
Happy birthday, dear me-eee,
Happy birthday to me!