Saturdays With Sir Poops: Welcoming Glowstick

SPAL: Hi, nice people. I was suppose to deliver the Sunshine Award and answer questions today but me and Hair Ball’s life has changed.

HB: Yeah. That’s right. It’s changed all right.

SPAL: The change happened this past Monday. Something arrived.

HB: Yeah. It smelled like poop. And it was wearing  diaper like pansy-boy.

SPAL: No-No says his smell makes her want to throw up. But I think he smells beautiful. Daddy-o and Mummsy think so, too. They call it a baby smell.

HB: You would. You’re a poop-eater. Everyone knows that about you, pansy-boy.

SPAL: Well, you’re stupid and made him make this terrible, loud noise…WAAAAAAAA-WAAAAAA… because all you did the first night was bark at him. That wasn’t nice.

HB: Well, you danced around him like a sissy-pansy-boy.

SPAL: It’s my special greeting.

HB: At least you did the dance without peeing on him like you do everyone else.

SPAL: I can’t help I have little control over my whizzer. Blame it on old age. You’re right behind me, stupid. Anyway, we like this thing…little person.

HB: Yeah. He’s pretty cool but wears his fur?

SPAL: I don’t know. He looks like Mummsy and Daddy-o. Furless people. But it’s fun to play with him.

HB: Yeah.

SPAL: I love to kiss him. He’s so cute. And he’s our size.

HB: And I’ve got a new job to protect him, too. I make sure no one steals his food when Mummsy feeds him. He eats some really weird looking stuff, too. Mummsy let me taste it. I don’t know why he likes it. There’s no taste to it.

SPAL: Yup. And he doesn’t take up a lot of room on our couch either. He likes to sit with Daddy-o at night and watch our favorite shows. Last night we ate fruit popsicles and watched Fringed.

 

HB: I have a question. Why does Mummsy call Daddy-o Grampy now?

SPAL: I’m not real sure. Maybe it’s a pecking-order-thing. ***he shrugs***

HB: Oh.

SPAL: Anyway, Mummsy and all of us are hoping to get back to normal soon but life has been unpredictable. Plus, she’s been doing the A to Z Challenge over at her other blog Secondhand Shoes, A Novel .

HB: Yeah. And  Mummsy’s editor died.

SPAL: Yup. Poor Mummsy.

HB: Yeah. Poor Mummsy.

SPAL: Her health, and my health. And now this little person she calls Glowstick. He’ll be here a while.

HB: I hope he stays a while.

SPAL: Me, too.

Sundays With Sir Poops-A-Lot: Look What I Can Do

I can balance to walk now.

Even run.

I can even use the toity in proper fashion. Just to let you know diapers are  horrible things to wear. They get squishy and wet. And, they didn’t even keep the poops from falling into my bed. Someone needs to reconstruct those things.

But it does wear me out.

It takes a lot of strength and determination to put all my weight on the right side. My left paw still hangs and my back left leg still drags but I’m getting around. Mummsy calls it hobbling. I call it VICTORY!

Sundays With Sir Poops-A-Lot: Hair Ball Says That’s Not Fair

Hair Ball

It’s not fair pansy-boy is getting better stuff than me. It’s not fair! It’s not fair! He’s getting all kinds of special things. Mummsy carries him everywhere in the house. He’s even got a special place on the sofa now and I’m not allowed to head butt him off anymore.     

It’s not fair he gets a special water bottle on his house door.

He even gets his breakfast served to him in bed.

He even wears something called a diaper now. I want to wear one. It’s so not fair.

It’s not fair he’s getting all this special attention. I want to be carried all around the house. I want a special spot on the sofa. I want my food delivered to my bed. What’s the deal?

SPAL: Actually stupid, it’s rather humiliating to wear a diaper. I’ll be glad to share. As for all this special attention, it’s nice up until I do my poops and pees into the diaper-thing. Mummsy now puts me in the Great White Watery Abyss of Torture twice a day now. She says she doesn’t want me to smell like a toilet.

HB: But it’s still not fair!

SPAL: Nope. Life’s not fair. Get used to it kid. I never thought I’d end up like this. I’m totally dependent on mummsy right now.

HB: I want to be sick! I want to be sick! We could be sick together.

SPAL: ***shakes his head*** Being sick isn’t what it’s all cracked up to be, but it is nice being treated like royalty. I’ll be glad when I don’t have to wear diapers anymore. I hope the neurologist will be able to fix my legs.

HB: Me, too. Then I can head butt you off the sofa again.