It was an interesting day at the clinic today.
I was really active and hungry. They feed me by throwing my kibble down the hall or across the waiting room. By noon, I was down to about half of my daily ration. I was looking in all the places it might have gone -- the shelves, the couch, etc. (Last week I jumped up and bit into a bag of doggie treats on display. ) I ran across the scales and was between 8 and 9 pounds.
Then Parker's human tried to pet me and pick me up. I tried to scratch and bite him, but I really purred, too. Then, when Ranger got his monthly flea medicine (Mercy used to get hers first -- this is the first time since she went to the Bridge that we got ours), he didn't like it and got, shall we say, agitated. Well, if he's upset, there must be a reason, so I got upset, too, and knocked his glasses off as I jumped out of the arms of Parker's human.
I miss picking on, or not picking on, Mercy. They put her ashes on a shelf where I can't get to them where there's nothing else that would interest me.
The picture is Ranger on his shelf, me on my shelf, and the one set of shelves, taken in Nowonder when Mercy was still around.