I was sitting watching TV this morning and eating my breakfast when I noticed Clarence 2 scooting himself along the carpet. It took me a minute to realize what I was seeing as the last time I'd seen a scoot like that was at my buddy Cliff's place a couple of years ago when his dog Angus was laying skid marks by dragging his mangy ass along the carpet. Watching my cat pull himself along the rug was a little surreal. I laughed it off as a weird thing for a cat to do, and went out for the morning to run some errands.
When I got back in the afternoon Clarences 1 & 3 greeted me at the door, tangling themselves in my legs. There was no sign of number 2. I walked into the living room, and I stopped cold. There were rust colored hash marks all over the carpet. I squatted down and rubbed one of the "lines" with my finger, and gave it a sniff.
"Oh crap." Well, I'd found my signs of number 2.
I went to the washroom to wash my hands. Then went looking for Clarence 2. I found him under my bed. I eventually coached him out, and he didn't look good at all. After wrapping him in a towel, I carried him to the car and drove to Dr. Harry Autte, my vet. He took a look at him and told me he'd keep him for the evening. Someone would call me in the morning.
So, now I'm waiting.
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