The Blog I Never Use

Tank is having what I can only describe as severe (but normal at this age) stomach trouble. He gets really angry and screams and screams and screams. Well, a few minutes ago I was holding poor little Tank while he screamed his head off, you parents probably know the scream I'm talking about "wa-waH-WAH-WAHWAH," followed by a very slow "WWWWAAAAAAA," descending into a very low and croakey "AHHHHHHHHW." My sister's oldest cat, Pookie, who decided a few weeks ago that crying must be okay, since we were okay with it, decided, very sensibly, that this crying was not. So he first came over and gave me an accusing stare . . . stare, stare, stare . . . then he put his paws up on the couch . . . stare at me, at baby, at me . . . hop up on the arm of the couch (something I've never seen him do, and which he is not allowed) . . . disturbed look, sniff the baby, recognize that I'm being nice to the baby . . . hop back down and leave the room.

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