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January 21, 1998
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The Amesbury Dunkies turned into a black hole again. I ordered a bagel and a small dark roast coffee. The waitress brought me my bagel, went to get the coffee, and disappeared. She vanished into thin air. One of other waitresses asked me to hand her a large orange juice from the refrigerator case. There's only one size of OJ and I don't work there. A guy standing closer to the case handed me the OJ and I handed it to the waitress who handed it out the drive thru window. Sort of an OJ relay. Sometime later, about 10 minutes - maybe 15 - someone brought me coffee. Strange. When I got to the shelter, George was in the sink licking the wet food out of the Iams cans. Since we don't have one of those kid safe can openers, I was a little worried about George getting some tongue damage. He was OK though. So I started up a load of laundry, washed the cans so I could put them in the recycle bucket away from George, and started in on litterboxes. I washed and washed endlessly. I began to build a pyramid out of freshly washed litterboxes. The pyramid grew to four tiers. Impressive if I do say so myself. Dawna commented on it. Roberta commented on it. Bob [the human not the cat by that name] wanted to know how I did it. Everybody was afraid to dry the clean boxes because they didn't want to take apart my pyramid. I built a separate structure out of the sick room litterboxes, sort of like a leaning tower of Pisa. Roberta marveled at that one too, and then knocked it down and blamed it on Jaguar. It wasn't until I got to the rabies quarantine dishes and litterboxes that I realized we had no bleach. I asked Dawna if we were really out of bleach or if it was hidden somewhere. She brought in a small bottle from home and I used that. The dryer wasn't working really well this morning. Or at least that was my perception. Things just weren't getting dry. By the time I left, only one load had been dried - and that one not too well. Bob decided to take a couple of trash bags full of wet clean laundry home to his own dryer. I asked Roberta if she thought the woman who owns the laundromat where you can only wash clean clothes would mind if we dried stuff there. Roberta wasn't sure. I didn't pursue it. There's only so many ways I can describe my misadventures with bleach and cat poop and wet food. Sometimes the cats or the people do something interesting. Most times they just do regular cat or human things. Probably the most interesting thing that happened today was a human story. A guy came in in a suit and topcoat carrying two feral kittens in a cat carrier. The guy is some kind of investment broker or money manager or something. He usually volunteers in the financial/business side of things there not the bleach, poop, and wet food side. We don't usually see men in suits at the shelter. Turns out one of his major investment clients (we're talking major major big bucks) has a feral cat colony on his property. This guy trapped the two kittens for his client. I asked if he does this for all his clients. No, only for this client - he has a lot of money invested. So the broker even went so far as to transfer the feral kittens to the cage Dawna had prepared - all by himself, suit and topcoat and all. He didn't mind getting cat hair on his suit. He figured he already had plenty of cat hair on him from trapping them and a little more wasn't going to hurt. I wonder if he can get Client Megabucks to donate a new dryer? Or maybe some bleach? | |
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