Phew. Holy Moly. Good Golly Miss Molly, I am in pain. As it turns out, one’s ferocious feline joints aren’t quite as strong after your sixth or seventh life…and I am paying for it by the minute.
Honestly, I meant no harm. They were playing my song. I had to dance!! Now, if I’m honest, I probably should have stayed off the entertainment bureau, but what’s a fun-loving cat to do? My friends expect so much from me!
Well, as the saying goes, the rest is history. Twenty-four hours later and I’m on a diet of extra strength Advil with an ice packet the size of Montana strapped to my paw. If the swelling doesn’t go down tonight, I’ll have to fess up to Boss Man and voluntarily go to the VETERINARIAN. It just keeps getting worse.