My last post was a poem that was on the depressing side, so I thought this week I’d share a funny story. Next week, I plan to have a fiction piece for one of Emilio’s photos ready to post. I’d give you a hint of what it’s about… but I don’t know yet :)
Last month, my sons’ cats had their yearly vet visit. My older son (he’s 12) was concerned about what he thought might be tumors so he talked to the doc about it and they took some fluid to test. The conclusion: fatty deposits. My son asked questions and the doc confirmed that they would shrink in size if the cats lost some weight.
As soon as we got home, my older son announced he was going to take the cats for a walk. With a raised eyebrow I asked, “A walk?” He said yes. So I asked how he planned to do that. “A leash.”
I stifled a laugh. I had a feeling I knew how this would go, but I helped him find a harness they couldn’t wiggle out of. Lizzy was the first
victim volunteer. It was as if she grew ten more legs, but we finally managed to get the harness on her. As he carried her outside and set her on on the porch, I told him to just let her explore in the yard . After ten minutes or so, I went outside to find out how the walk was going. This is what I saw:
When he heard the door open, he turned to me and said, “she won’t move.” Apparently, his good intentions didn’t translate into feline motivation. I asked what happened if he picked her up, so he lifted her to standing position and, as soon as he pulled his hands away from her belly, Lizzy fell onto her side again. We laughed.
He learned a lesson that day: you can put a cat on a leash, but you can’t make her walk.