As required by Lesbian Code of Conduct Article 5, Chapter 7 [each applicant wishing to use the title "lesbian" must, at all times, be in posession of at least one cat], LT and I have 2 cats. LT actually had 3 when we met, but 2 have since gone to the catnip patch in the sky, and we are down to her remaining cat, Zachary, and my kitty Bubba. I inherited Bubba as a kitten in 1994 when my then-room mate decided to move back home to Ireland 2 weeks after adopting a small, black, furry tornado. Initially, I was displeased, but Bubba and I have come to an understanding over the years that has allowed us to cohabitate peacefully. If I take care of her every need (food, fresh water, immaculate litter box, many soft places to sleep...) she won't claw my eyes out in the middle of the night.
Because we are good lesbians, LT and I were very good to our respective kitties. And then we got a dog. There is also something in the Lesbian Code of Conduct requiring the adoption of a dog as soon as possible after 2 lesbians decide to cohabitate. Said dog must preferably be a lab./golden retreiver type of dog, and is designed to act as the "child replacement". In our case, we very consciously decided to get a dog so we could see if we would be good parents. We figured that if we could keep a dog alive, groomed, trained (somewhat) and fed, we probably could handle a kid. Poor Daisy. She's a goofy shelter mutt. We fell in love with her sweet disposition and calm nature the moment we saw her. When I picked her up, she nuzzled my neck, and I fell in love. She was the center of our attention for 2 years. Then came the kid, and Daisy has not forgiven us yet. As the kidlet gets older, she shows more interest in the dog, and they will eventually be friends, especially if the kidlet continues to share her meals and let Daisy clean her face afterwards.
However, I digress (badly). The point (and I do have one) of this post is Zachary. LT woke me up at the cruel hour of 6am to announce to me that Zachary had used the bathroom rug as a litter box sometime during the night, and that he also seemed to have used Daisy's bed for a similar purpose. This is the second time in 2 months that this has happened. After the last trip to the vet., his urine culture was negative, but we went home minus $300 and plus some antibiotics anyway. So now, here we are again. Currently, Zachary is confined to an enormous dog crate in the kitchen, crying like he might die of sadness. He has a little litter box and a blankie and should be happy as a king in his wire-cage castle, but he's not. Normally, we would send him to his little apartment in the basement with the litter boxes and the food bowl and the comfy chair to sleep in (or, when he's really lucky, the dryer to sleep on top of). He would stay there until the antibiotics were done and it would be like a little vacation for him. Except that at the moment, the basement is flooded. Yeah. So, Zachary is imprisoned in the kitchen, crying pitifully.
The kidlet has just learned to say "Zachary" (up until last week, all kitties were "Bubba"). Every morning, before we leave for daycare, kidlet walks around the house and says goodbye to all the animals "Bye bye Bubba", "Bye Bye Daisy", and this morning, "Bye bye cry baby".