Strange Relationship Provides Excessive Liberties?
I love my animals, all of them, including the "old bag," a part Siamese who is my "mouth with fur" and is rarely happy, especially when other pet companions are around. That is my curse, my weakness; anything that any of them do would be....OK. (Mind you, the litter box is in my office and I tolerate that while I'm on the phone; have you ever taken in the odiferous vapors of a cat's leavings? It's exquisitely stinky.)
So, lately, Lily -- a calico who's about seven years old but still a kitten -- comes into the bathroom while the Sonicare is having its way on my teeth (this has only allayed gum surgery which I've been putting off for economic reasons): she tells me, subliminally, that she needs some water.
Well, actually she puts her head in the reservoir of my Water Pik machine (it gets used a couple of times a week; I'm not going to comply with all the dentist's orders, you know) and gives me a look, like, "hey, where's the water?" I fill up the one pint, plastic reservoir. She drinks. She doesn't thank me; she's a teenager, you know. A look in the mirror, another drink and, then, she's off the counter.
Patty, who might be present during these interactions, cautions me: even though she doesn't use the Water Pik, she thinks Lily's habits could be damaging to me: "you know, she licks her butt with that tongue." I raise my eyebrows: this is a not too friendly fact: that tongue has been places where I wouldn't go.
Well, I have executed some emergency procedures on my little feline friend that involved the end of a spoon, some newspaper and some Vaseline -- not necessarily in that order. So, I am familiar with the reality of Lily's non-front-end and some of the potential risks. I shrug my shoulders; I love her too much to worry about that crap, literally.
I, sort of, see my intent to use the unit without bleaching it as a sign of affection and biological trust: I know there are enzymes in Lily's mouth that will, hopefully, kill any butt-circling bacteria and...I don't care: I consciously take the risk. Out of love. Love, that dirty little four letter word.
Limits? Yes, I think I have limits: if she starts licking my Sonicare, I'm going to...have a talk with her. She's a genius you know.
I love my animals, all of them, including the "old bag," a part Siamese who is my "mouth with fur" and is rarely happy, especially when other pet companions are around. That is my curse, my weakness; anything that any of them do would be....OK. (Mind you, the litter box is in my office and I tolerate that while I'm on the phone; have you ever taken in the odiferous vapors of a cat's leavings? It's exquisitely stinky.)
So, lately, Lily -- a calico who's about seven years old but still a kitten -- comes into the bathroom while the Sonicare is having its way on my teeth (this has only allayed gum surgery which I've been putting off for economic reasons): she tells me, subliminally, that she needs some water.
Well, actually she puts her head in the reservoir of my Water Pik machine (it gets used a couple of times a week; I'm not going to comply with all the dentist's orders, you know) and gives me a look, like, "hey, where's the water?" I fill up the one pint, plastic reservoir. She drinks. She doesn't thank me; she's a teenager, you know. A look in the mirror, another drink and, then, she's off the counter.
Patty, who might be present during these interactions, cautions me: even though she doesn't use the Water Pik, she thinks Lily's habits could be damaging to me: "you know, she licks her butt with that tongue." I raise my eyebrows: this is a not too friendly fact: that tongue has been places where I wouldn't go.
Well, I have executed some emergency procedures on my little feline friend that involved the end of a spoon, some newspaper and some Vaseline -- not necessarily in that order. So, I am familiar with the reality of Lily's non-front-end and some of the potential risks. I shrug my shoulders; I love her too much to worry about that crap, literally.
I, sort of, see my intent to use the unit without bleaching it as a sign of affection and biological trust: I know there are enzymes in Lily's mouth that will, hopefully, kill any butt-circling bacteria and...I don't care: I consciously take the risk. Out of love. Love, that dirty little four letter word.
Limits? Yes, I think I have limits: if she starts licking my Sonicare, I'm going to...have a talk with her. She's a genius you know.
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