Oddz-N-Endz #89.30987637645
He is most definitely Good Boy CJ.
His Good Boy patience has been sorely tested lately, though, and he's been kinda sad.
Apparently that hyperactive little furball was not expected to stick around, and when it was clear we weren't going to slap stamps on his head and send him to the next person, CJ developed a nice case of the blahs.
Did he get in trouble?
Hell no.
I resigned myself to not working for a while and crossed my fingers in the hope that he didn't delete my manuscript altogether (he did not), and gave him head rubs while he fell asleep. His life has been hard enough without being told no when all he wants is a little attention and a place where Ducky probably won't find him.
The sucky part is that a large impetus in getting Ducky was to give CJ a playmate, since Ozzy sleeps so much more. I never would have guessed that my brave boy would be afraid of a 3 pound kitten, and would run run him at every opportunity.
Ozzy will slap the krap out of Ducky (who thinks she's playing) but being the Good Boy, CJ doesn't unless he's pushed to. We don't get in the middle of it because no one is using claws and no one is getting hurt, but I feel bad for CJ.
Progress is being made; he'll go up to Ducky and touch noses, which works if Ducky stays still. But 4 month old kittens do not stay still and all they want is to play with the big kitty, and he wishes CJ would chase him back.
That'll come, eventually. But for now I feel bad for him, and give him all the attention he'll allow...which isn't a whole lot right now. But I'll take what I can get.
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In the 3 weeks he's been here, Ducky has gained almost 1.5 pounds, so he's caught up to where he should be at this age.
He still has chronic diarrhea, though, and his next vet appointment isn't until the 18th, so I imagine Monday morning Mike will call to see what else we can do.
Thing is, Ducky is super active, he eats well, drinks water as expected, and you'd never know there was anything wrong if not for the horrendously awful smelling runs.
Little dude has no sense of personal space, either.
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With spring coming, I figured this was a good time to start selling a few bikes (to make room for the eventual dream bike, of course.) So of course the day after I got one ready, the skies opened and it began to rain...and will rain for the rest of the week.
One of these days I'll get them sold.
I'll miss them, but I think I want that dream bike more than I would miss them. And to be honest, one of them I'll mostly miss because it's purple.
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And my WTF moment of the weekend: an online acquaintance had words to say because I failed to donate to their fundraiser, and pointed out that I am ALWAYS fundraising for something, so I should turn around and donate to others.
Well...I do. But I have to KNOW about it before I can donate anything, and that was the first I'd heard about it. And I could have still donated, if not for being told "you guys are rich, so I expect something good."
First of all...no, we are not. My bank account is unimpressive.
Pile onto that the Spouse Thingy retired in December, so going forward our income is slashed in half. I'll still donate to my friends' fundraising efforts when I know about them (unless you're raising for political reasons, and then I'll nope out of it, especially if the funds go to one particular megalomaniac.) But I might not be able to give as much as I have in the past.
Hell, we have a grandbaby on the way, due any day, and we're going to want to spoil her most of all.
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I want ice cream.
