Kizzy's been begging to be taken outside on his harness every day. He doesn't care that it's cold. He doesn't care that people keep asking if we got a dog when they see us from across the street. He doesn't care that he's a pussy (SEE WHAT I DID THERE) when it comes to loud noises.

Or maybe he does now.

Usually it's me that takes him outside, but the other day I went to pick up a prescription and some stuff for spaghetti and came home to this.

I stared at Beloved. "How?"

Him: "There was a loud noise. He freaked out at the garbage can."

Me: "But ... how? There's no blood. No cut."

Him: "I know. Um? I don't know. He's magic."

HOW?

Why not?

---

THE OBVIOUS GAME update, for those of you who haven't gotten sick of me yet. (Hi, Ma!)

• Sticking with this particular project on the first-ever literary blog, Beatrice
• How blogging changed my life on RookieMoms
• Review on The Headless Family
• Review on Deva By Definition
• 5 reasons to read THE OBVIOUS GAME with your teen on Angela Amman's blog
• My favorite indie bookstore on Acting Up with Books
• Review on Vinobaby's Voice
• New Goodreads Giveaway
• New LibraryThing Giveaway

I slept like hell last night. We spent the weekend outside and yesterday working in the yard, and between the muscle exhaustion and the allergy infusion, I just couldn't stay comfortable. At about 5:45 this morning, I woke up and flopped around again (my poor husband). Petunia stirred from the foot of the bed and walked over my body until she got to my arm. Then she curled up in the circle of my arm, put her paws over my elbow and laid her head on my shoulder. And purred.

And then I fell back asleep. And to think she was months from being put down when we adopted her.

---

Other things I wrote last week:

• Plants toxic to cats and dogs
• Six tips for talking politics with your friends without a fight
• Parents sue school district over a blog and I can't figure out why

Petunia Cookie Dough has an appointment to have a tooth extracted next week. Apparently she's got a cavity down to the root. It's causing her pain when she eats. I'd noticed her sort of turning her head to the side and hacking a lot, and I worried when we were gone for three days at Christmas that she wouldn't eat her hard food and then we'd come home to find an insane muted calico who'd eaten part of the couch and an entire package of dental floss while we were gone.

So I did the responsible cat owner thing and asked the neighbor to come over and give her a little soft food every day.

By the time we returned, Petunia had gained enough weight to notice a difference. In three days, she'd eaten four entire cans of soft cat food. The big ones, not the little ones. And like a vampire, she'd developed a taste for it.

On Monday, I didn't have any more soft cat food. I gave her hard food and sat down to start working. The withdrawal set in immediately. One would've thought Lindsay Lohan was spending time in my living room. She curled up to me, batting me playfully,  purring all the while. Then, when I didn't give in, she stomped off and sat in the kitchen, meowing mournfully for at least a half hour. Every time I got up to do something, she ran over to her bowl and meowed impatiently. I hid the car keys.

FREAK CAT.

Before this weekend, we'd never given her soft food, and she always ate like a really normal cat. The most normal cat we've ever had, actually, because Sybil always begged for soft food and Bella always begged for treats. I thought Petunia didn't have a junkie personality. I thought she was different.

WHAT HAVE I DONE?

I just wanted her to have food while her tooth was hurting! I didn't realize soft cat food has the same active ingredients as Red Bull, cigarettes and Chipotle all wrapped up in one tin. Now I'm going to have to check her in to Cat Rehab. Beloved said we should just stop cold turkey, but her tooth does still hurt and also? I am home all day now working, which means I have to watch little Miss Kitty LiLo cut herself, trying to get my attention. All for a little mushy chicken.