Now that our hen Harriet is feeling better, our kitty Smog has gotten sick. Before I found Smog on the side of the road, he had suffered a terrible injury where his pelvic bones were smashed and then healed all wrong. Because of the distortion of his skeleton, Smog has chronic digestive problems. And right now, he's in a bit of trouble. He's not eating, and is all backed up. We're treating him with laxatives, and trying to keep him hydrated.
Robb has the magic touch. He cradles Smog -- upside down -- in his arms, and Smog gets a crazy toothy grin on his face, and submits to his treatments. I've tried this, and all I get is an armload of cat scratches.
Smog has very different relationships with me and Robb. The morning ankle-chomping ritual, for instance. Lucky me.
Don't you just love the the detail on Smog's spiny tongue? All the better to bite you with, my dear.