If we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting in person, perhaps you’re not totally aware of the fact that I’m neurotic. Just a little. I have a bit of a worrying problem and can be a tad bit anxious. I’m a lot better than I used to be; however, I’m a bit ummm…nervous.
I had to take my cat to the veterinarian on Monday. As I mentioned before, Harry has had a bit of a problem. After the shots and the check-up, I mentioned Harry’s little “issue” to his vet. She seems to think that Harry is stressed out. See, he was the runt of his litter, was bottle fed and then was the focus of all my attention for a long time. He always slept with me, did everything with me and is incredibly bonded to people. Andrew is not a Harry fan; therefore, he does not sleep with us. Being forced out of the bedroom is distressing for Harry, so he’s making noise in protest. We were presented with a few options, presented now in order from least to most humorous:
—Play with him more and tire him out (the option we’re trying, by the way)
—Let him sleep with us (my first choice, but Andrew’s not having it)
—Get ANOTHER cat for him to play with (Both of us nearly shat bricks at this suggestion, because OH MY GOD, NO!)
—Put him on anti-anxiety medications
Yes. You did read that right. Apparently, my cat has caught the crazy from me. And now, he too, can have his own little prescription of Xanax or Ativan so he can sleep at night. See? Even my cat is certifiable.