Many of you may not know that we have a cat. Our German Shepherd, Schultz, usually steals the show, and the cat takes a back seat. So let me tell you about Bootsy. Bootsy was a pathetic little kitten that crawled into my yard two years ago. He was a skinny, starving thing, and he was loaded with fleas. Being the soft-hearted person that I am, I decided to help him. I gave him kitty food and de-flead him. Then I took him to the vet, got rid of his round worms and tapeworms, had him neutered, and vaccinated. He is now a happy, healthy cat who lives outside in a little igloo.
(My husband thought I was crazy to do that. He teases me all the time about it, and encourages Schultz to "eat the cat," which is why the cat lives outside.)
Anyway, today it was time to take Bootsy to the vet for his annual checkup and vaccinations.
"How are you going to get him to the vet?" my son asked.
"She's going to put him in a brown box and ship him," my husband said.
I shook my head. "No. I have a crate. I'll take him in that."
My husband thought he had a better idea. "You should catapult him. Send him flying through the sky all the way to the vet office."
"Catapult my cat?" I asked. "How could you suggest such a thing?"
"That's what catapults are for, aren't they?"
No. Actually, I think they're for transporting crazy husbands to the moon, which is exactly where he's going if he keeps harrassing the cat!