I’ve made no secret of the fact that I think my cat is the cutest to ever live, and that she should be a model. I have big dreams for her: cat food cans, the Scoop Away box, the Hollywood Feed billboard on Sam Cooper – she could be our meal ticket. She already acts like enough of a diva, so she’s got the right attitude for that line of work.
Well, I’m hoping Trish will make her local debut in the 2009 Memphis Humane Society calendar. I heard on the radio this morning that they will be accepting submissions until July 18, after which the public will be allowed to vote which pets get to be semi-celebrities. Some more details can be found here at their Web site.
Hopefully the fame and notoriety will make her forgive me for subjecting her to the unspeakable horrors of the harness and leash I bought her yesterday. She’s due for her annual shots and my nerves just can’t handle the living hell she puts me through whenever I stuff her into that pet carrier. Usually when we get to the vet and I take her out of the carrier, she immediately runs and hides under this table in the waiting room, forcing me to drop to my knees (on the hairy, dirty floor) and try to fish her out from her “hiding spot.”
Not this time. I’m going to walk her to the car on that leash and I’m going to take her into the vet on that leash and if she tries anything cute she’ll be in for a surprise! I put the harness on her yesterday and amazingly enough she only bucked like a wild stallion for about thirty seconds before she kind of forgot she had it on. Well she would have forgotten about it, if I hadn’t kept adjusting it and telling her how pretty she looked.
For the record, no, I don’t intend to walk her around the neighborhood like a dog. And yes, I often am alarmed by the amount of effort it takes to outsmart a creature whose brain is the size of a walnut.