My mom Cathy finally recognized her limits as a caregiver. She advertised on craigslist for a special needs pet sitter who could help give Tiger fluids. Sure enough, a delightful former vet tech named Jen answered her plea.
Jen came over Wednesday and walked Cathy through the process. She came back today and said Cathy’s doing much better. She even complimented Cathy’s ability to shove a big pill down Tiger’s throat.
Cathy was so excited because Tiger jumped up on the counter and ate a few mouthfuls of food without being prompted. What’s the big deal? I eat all the time, don’t I?
But I absolutely adore Jen. While she was talking to my mom, she gave me a full body massage. She rubbed my tummy and talked to me in soothing tones, clearly recognizing my royal stature.
Cathy offered to help Jen develop her website when Jen gets ready to expand her practice. My mom has a one-track mind.
Jen did offer a parting shot as she headed out.
“You could give Gracie low-calorie carrots instead of her usual treats,” she said. “Dogs don’t know the difference.”
Who said the f-word? I’m not fat. I’m just becoming royally queen-sized.