They Got Me! (And It Was Good!)

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Aren’t they cute!? Baby sphynx boys. All neutered and keeping warm after surgery!

So today was my last day at work until after Christmas, and I’d known since Friday that it was going to be really booked… all the clients that wanted to get in to see me rather than my wonderfully competent relief veterinarian. I had several surgeries and dental procedures to do, then a morning and afternoon line-up of appointments. I also had to pay last-minute bills, get the Christmas bonuses out, and clean up my Christmas-Chaos of an office. One of the dentals had a slab fractured molar, which translates into horrendous, hellish extraction which took about 45 minutes and caused me no end of frustration.

And to top it off, the 11:30am appointment, the last one before lunch, sounded like a real winner. It was a new client, had been on the schedule since the beginning of last week, and sounded like something that should have been SEEN last week, rather than postponed until today. “15yo dog, vomiting and diarrhea, not eating or drinking, may have gotten into the cat litter, financial constraints” was what it said on the schedule. Now I won’t go into all the ways this didn’t delight me, but suffice it to say that it’s tough to bring one back when it’s been this sick for this long… especially if it’s elderly, without some pretty intensive diagnostic work-up and probable hospitalization and IV fluids, none of which works well when the client has financial constraints. Of course it would also have to be a new client, with whom we have no relationship or basis of trust in order to work out a payment plan. Sigh.

I was a bit behind schedule due to the extraction from hell, and starting to get really hungry. One of my receptionists is pregnant, and at about 11:15, I noticed that there was a wonderful aroma coming from the front office. Unfortunately it looked like I was going to be late to lunch, myself, but I figured that being pregnant and entitled to cravings, she’d just heated up her lunch early while she was still on the clock. Having been pregnant twice myself, I completely understood. I just wished it didn’t smell so good. The office manager came in at 11:35 and said the new client was in Exam Room 1, and she whispered, “He’s weird!”

“How?” I whispered back.

“Just weird! He’s super short but really burly and he’s dressed in some kind of medieval outfit. He doesn’t smile. He just stares daggers at you and hardly says one word!”

This was just getting better and better. “How does the dog look?”

“He’s got it hidden in his big furry coat! I can’t tell!”

Even better. She handed me the chart and retreated to the front. I looked at the client information. Francis Richards. The dog was an intact female named “Lucky” (never a good sign… name them “Lucky” and they will be the un-luckiest poor animal in the neighborhood.) My technician handed me the fecal loop. It was time to meet Francis Richards of the medieval clothing and the dagger eyes. We both sighed, then headed into the room.

And that’s when….

Surprise!

The weird guy was none other than…. Thorin Oakenshield!

Surprise!!! 

Well played, ladies! Here I was dreading the 11:30 appointment for all kinds of reasons… the last thing I expected was a going away early birthday surprise party!

They’d smuggled in the whole staff, a potluck lunch, Thorin himself (bearing 3 balloons for me!) and…. cake!

Veterinary Humor

It’s delicious! Honestly!

To be more specific… it was the oh-so-unappetizing Kitty Litter Cake! Something I’ve long wanted to try! (Veterinary humor. We’re the worst!) I know it looks just awful, but our office manager assured us she’d disinfected the litter box and pooper-scooper really carefully before assembling the cake. (I told you… we’re the worst!)

 

 

Doubled Over

Here I am, shrieking and doubling over in laughter! =)

Oh, how surprised I was! I doubled over laughing and I’m pretty sure I shrieked with excitement when I saw Francis Richards standing there, a little shorter than the rest!

It was awesome!

My crew is the best!!! And they must love me! We had a lovely time enjoying our hot lunch and our kitty litter cake with ice cream for dessert.

“May have gotten into cat litter” indeed!

What a send-off! #FeelingBlessed

 

 

 

 

Office Eye CandyAnd look who’s waiting for me in my office when I come home! It’s Mr. Critics’ Choice Awards Nominee, Himself!

And he’s holding balloons.

Life doesn’t get much better than this!

And now… It’s Disney Time! =)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mother’s Day Disintegrated. I’m A Basket Case.

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Don’t forget to stop and sniff the flowers. You never know what may be coming your way.

 

My sphynx, my first nekkid baby, my Noobie. I’ve always, always dreamed of having one of these, and finally last April, I was given the opportunity to adopt one. It wasn’t long enough, and my baby is gone. *Tears welling up for the thousandth time*

 

 

 

 

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Noobie was occasionally subjected to sharpie tattoos. This one says “Mom” and was texted to me while I was traveling.

Noobie was loved by his original family, but he suffered from a very refractory case of cystitis and started having recurring bouts of urethral blockage, which is a veterinary emergency and has to be treated with hospitalization and urethral catheterization for several days. His family could no longer afford to keep him, and returned him to his breeder, who asked another breeder if she knew of any potential home that might be a good fit for such a problematic health condition. One of my former colleagues was the primary veterinarian for this other sphynx breeder, but I’d treated her cats a few times when I was on call, and always told her I’d be interested if she knew of a rescue sphynx or wanted to retire one of her breeding cats and find a home. So I was contacted and offered Noobie, and it was really love at first site. I agreed to take over his medical care, and we decided he would be a clinic cat at my newly purchased veterinary practice.

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Noobie had no fear of dogs or other cats and was the first to volunteer to keep other pets company when they came for appointments or hospitalization.

There really couldn’t be a more well-suited personality for the job of clinic cat. Noobie didn’t know a stranger, and he was always hopping uninvited onto people’s shoulders from his perch on the lobby counter, or jumping in their laps as they sat in the waiting room. Always a topic of conversation, for obvious reasons. Most people have never seen a hairless cat, or pet their soft, soft skin, in person. Noobie had the biggest motor, and he loved to sit in the window and watch for new clients to greet. He didn’t try to go out the door, but he was ready and waiting as soon as they walked through. Many clients would bring family and friends to see the cats, and I can’t say it wasn’t good for business. An unexpected benefit of having such a bizarre breed of cat.

 

 

 

 

 

kojeenoobieNot only was Noobie a people-person, but what made him even more perfectly suited to his job was that he was highly sociable with other animals, and never met a cat or dog he didn’t like. Even if the other pet wasn’t of a like-mind. So many dogs and cats would give him the most leery looks, not knowing what to make of this really, REALLY weird looking … bat? Rat? Cat?

The staff all thought Noobie was comically ugly to look at and made fun of his “possum tail” and his “man boobs” all the time. But it didn’t take long before he stole everyone’s hearts. He was just so full of love, and so comical all the time. A true ambassador for the breed. I’ll never not have a sphynx again. They’re just the most gregarious, personable, outgoing cats… and that’s the kind of cat I’ve always loved.

 

high upOf course, the kids were deeply enamored of Noobie. He never met a kid he didn’t bring his ball out for. He loved to play fetch, and even retrieved the ball at least 50% of the time. The kids are really torn up. Lots of tears. So is Hubby. The quintessential cat lover. If Hubby didn’t have a reason to stop by the clinic to perform some manly repair task that we ladies decided required a penis, he’d stop by just to get his nekkid kitty fix.  Sigh.

So we’re all just super torn up. Noobie was only 2 years old. I honestly can not speak about this without my throat choking closed and I cried all night since about 1:30 am. And I cried on and off all day today, in my emotionally raw and sleep-deprived state. I was and am a basket case. But I can write about  what happened, and so I will.

Noobie crashed yesterday afternoon and he died at about 11pm. He wasn’t alone, but we weren’t able to resuscitate. I do know what happened now, and I’ll tell you about it.

 

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Another favorite pastime… sunning himself in the window. Sphynx cats are always heat-seekers.

Long story short, my Noobie had a congenital abnormality called a circumcaval ureter, which caused the part of his ureter in front of the abnormality to dilate until it ruptured. This was my finding on post-mortem examination. I was called by the afternoon kennel tech at about 6pm on Mother’s Day Sunday, and she was crying. She said Noobie was in his litter box when she came in, and when he stepped out, he just fell over and was limp in her arms and cold. Both my surgery tech and I rushed to the hospital, and the kennel tech had started heat therapy- his temp was too low to read (less than 90°F ).

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Charlie and Noobie. They’re brothers, from different litters. Noobie the elder, taller brother.

On my mad rush to the hospital, I suspected the little guy had a urethral blockage again, because of his past history of these and the fact that they often present collapsed on emergency. However, when I arrived and examined him, his bladder was not enlarged and I could easily express urine. He was clearly in shock, with poor gum color, rapid breathing and heart rate. The kennel staff from Saturday said he was totally normal, chasing with his brother Charlie and his usual energetic and playful self. The employee responsible for the Sunday morning shift said he was spending excessive time in the litter box, and hadn’t seemed interested when the canned food was brought out for the dogs boarding, which was unusual because he usually would make a nuisance of himself for a taste of any canned food. However, as of 9-10am, he was up and about, moving around, though somewhat lethargic.

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This is a typical type of place we’d find Noobie. It was an employee backpack that time, but he didn’t hesitate to crawl into a clients’ roomy purse if the mood struck.

Back to Sunday evening: we started fluids immediately and I gave pain meds, shock dose steroids, antibiotics and vitamins. We did radiographs and didn’t pick up on anything there, bloodwork which showed he was septic, dehydrated, had all 3 kidney values elevated, but most concerning his blood sugar was super low, at 30 (should be around 100) so we gave IV dextrose and added more dextrose to the fluids. He did seem to rally and his temp was rising, he was lifting his head and his gum color looked a bit better, his heart rate and breathing rate came down, maybe due to pain meds and treatment for shock. However, over the next several hours, he declined again and we couldn’t get his blood sugar up despite multiple injections of dextrose. His breathing became labored and he arrested at 11pm, and we couldn’t resuscitate.

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They were so close. I knew if it was contagious, Charlie might be next.

At the time, I had more questions than answers and I was numb and almost mechanical. Weirdly dry-eyed, when the staff was all in tears. I sent them home, and performed a methodical and completely detached post-mortem exam. It baffled me that I was able to do this- yes, it’s something I do occasionally and I’m always detached while I do it. But I’ve never autopsied one of my own. All I knew was that I needed to do a post-mortem examination and collect samples for testing in case this was possibly something infectious that could put Noobie’s brother Charlie Bugs at risk (he’s fine BTW). So I started in the chest cavity and could find no reason for death- no evidence of heart disease, no fluid on the lungs or other lesions. I moved to the abdomen and at first, everything looked normal; I began systematically collecting samples of all the organs for culture and histopathology.

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This is a borrowed image and it’s not a cat. Probably human. You can see the ureter on the left is dilated anterior to the location where it abnormally tunnels under the vena cava blood vessel, compared to the normal ureter on the right, which does not pass under the vena cava. The other image is a contrast study. In these images, the ureter is dilated but not yet ruptured.

Then I got to the left kidney and ureter (the ureter is the tube that carries urine from kidney to bladder) and I saw there was urine in the retroperitoneal space and realized the ureter was grossly dilated and ruptured. The path of the left ureter went under the very large vessel called the vena cava, instead of over it like it’s supposed to, and this would have pinched/smashed the ureter, causing the urine to back up and dilate the ureter between the kidney (which was also subtly enlarged) and the vessel. The ureter beyond the vessel was normal diameter, and the right kidney and ureter were normal in appearance.

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A photo from the breeder. Cute little nekkid baby.

It is probable that Noobie’s left ureter had been slowly dilating since he was a kitten, but the right kidney was compensating and he wasn’t showing any symptoms of kidney failure right up until it couldn’t expand any more and just ruptured, then he crashed. Perhaps if his other kidney hadn’t compensated for so long, and he’d started showing signs of renal failure, this could have been picked up on an abdominal ultrasound or contrast study, and the problem might have been either repaired, or if inoperable, the left kidney could have been removed altogether. I contacted the breeder (in writing, as I couldn’t trust myself to speak) to notify her and to recommend that any of his siblings have an abdominal scan to look for signs of enlarged/dilated ureter and circumcaval ureter. I actually don’t know if this is just a random congenital mishap or a heritable congenital disorder, but I have already scheduled my dwarf sphynx Charlie (he’s a full younger brother) to have him scanned by a board-certified internist, in hope that if he does have a similar hydroureter developing, it can be surgically addressed before it ruptures and becomes a life-threatening emergency.

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We had so many laughs with these boys. *Sobs*

When I got into the car to drive home, that’s when I suddenly became overwhelmed with emotion, and I have been teary almost non-stop since my detachment abruptly fizzled, and am operating on perhaps 1 hour sleep today. Needless to say, the entire staff is devastated. I just can’t talk about it and nobody at work can speak about it without we all start bawling. After I was sure that the breeder had contacted Noobie’s original family so they wouldn’t find out about it via our hospital Facebook page, I posted an announcement there, knowing how fond many of our clients were of both these little mascots. I know that when they don’t see that eager face in the lobby, they’ll start asking questions, but we’re all too raw to speak about it as of yet. At least this way, we can direct them to the Facebook Post if they ask questions about exactly what happened.

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Another pic from the breeder. He could bring a smile to anyone’s face, from his kitten years until now. Though I like to think God is smiling at his antics in heaven right now. =)

You were a comedian, a gentle soul, a faithful friend, snuggle bug, a brother’s bestie, and perhaps my all-time favorite cat. I’ll never forget you, Noobie. I miss you like crazy.

Someday I’ll be able to look at these pics and smile again.

Rest In Peace, My Love.

 

Dream: Abject Humiliation- Hubby/RA Encounter

If you recall- my last Richard Armitage dream, the Comic Con/Responsible Dog Ownership Con dream, was interrupted by the alarm clock while I was busy doing OFA patellar certifications on toy breed dogs while fluffy-white-dog-sitting for Thorin Armitage.

I do have to wonder if spending the time writing up my dReAms may be helping along my subconscious mind, because last night I had a follow-up dReAm, and that was pretty fast. This one went swimmingly, right up until the end. Now I almost hope I never have another.

Warning: Up until now, my dReAms were all G-rated. But read this one at your own risk: contains a lewd joke and racy language!

* * *

I am standing backstage with my office manager at the AAHA Convention Awards Ceremony, feeling the usual flutters one has when one is about to make a public appearance on a stage. Our veterinary practice recently passed our AAHA Inspection to remain an AAHA-Certified practice, and apparently, we are about to receive an Award. (I am actually a little unclear what the Award would be for. In real life, we were told we’d receive a special plaque of recognition at the AAHA Convention when we have been certified for 25 years, and the practice I recently purchased has actually been AAHA-certified for only 21 years. But whatever. We are evidently about to be presented with a rare 21-Year Award. Why not?) My office manager is practically bursting with pride, and true to her nature, she’s come prepared for anything. We naturally didn’t realize we’d have Richard Armitage’s dog along with us when we cross that stage to receive our 21-Year Recognition Award, but she happens to have not one, but two specially-made leashes for the occasion. (Sigh. It’s a practice standard. Good AAHA hospitals take extra precautions, and that means we walk dogs with two leashes. That way, should the unexpected happen, and one leash fails, we still have that additional leash and we won’t lose your pet. Thank goodness we don’t have to cross the stage with Armitage’s dog on gasp! only one leash!)

We hear our names, with all kinds of enthusiastic applause, so out we go. Just to be different, each of us holds one of the leashes, and the fluffy white dog prances along looking really adorable between us. I wish that Richard could see this moment. She doesn’t pee even once as we accept our special plaque! (Of course, there are no scary dwarves anywhere to be seen, so the dog is quite safe. lol) While my office manager is really enjoying all this pomp and ceremony, I am personally rather impatient to take the Award and go. Although I am all finished with my allotted patellar certifications, I still have a stack of paperwork to finish back at my booth at the Responsible Dog Ownership Convention hall, and more importantly, I’m kind of expecting Richard Armitage. These are both excellent reasons why I can’t stay and schmooze, so I delegate the Post-Awards schmoozing to my employee, and make haste for the nearby RDO-Con. 

Now I am back, seated contentedly in my booth, filling out OFA paperwork for Responsible Dog Owners at the RDO-Con, and keeping a cheerful eye out for Richard Armitage. Presumably, Richard will be here soon to pick up his flighty fluffball, and I hope that he will remember to get out of his Thorin costume before he arrives. Everything has gone pretty smoothly, and I am of course very eager to see him again. I haven’t decided, but am deliberating about whether I should bother to mention the fine that I paid when his pet peed the Comic Con carpet, or whether I should just write it off as a business expense. I’m definitely going to provide Richard with these two new leashes, perhaps also with a mild little lecture about the importance of leashes, when he gets here. 

Pretty soon, I hear a buzz of commotion, accompanied by an increase of little-dog-yipping and snarling, and I look up, expecting to see Richard. Earlier, Thorin was perceived as a high-level threat by the toy breed contingent, so I’m snickering and rolling my eyes, thinking Richard has forgotten to take his Thorin costume off. However, instead of seeing Richard Armitage in the center of the buzz, my heart skips a beat. It’s not Thorin- it’s someone similar- equally tall with long brown hair, a beard, sword… but this masculine attraction (or threat, depending on your gender and species) is strutting along garbed in Viking Age attire. I think I’m about to ovulate, because this is just too much excitement for one day- It’s Rollo. Rollo Lothbrook, of Vikings. And his confident warrior’s stride and his beautiful male arrogance as he surveys the RDO-Con booths is breathtaking.

(Vikings, on History Channel: another show I absolutely adore, not least because Rollo, played by very appealing Clive Standen,  is involved. The Award-winning doc is in danger of a swoon, pant, and hypersalivation attack.)

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Rollo Lothbrook. I must be in Valhalla. Have mercy.

As had happened earlier with Thorin Armitage, the ladies are beginning to swarm Rollo. The temperature in the convention center suddenly feels uncomfortably hot, and I am beginning to fan myself, wondering if I ought to get his autograph. All I have in the way of paper are my OFA patellar certification forms, but that doesn’t stop me. Then I remember Hubby’s physician cousin and her close friend, who originally encouraged us to start watching Vikings, and who are both as terribly attracted to Rollo as I am. So I grab 3 patellar certification forms and emerge from my booth, ready to brave the snarling doggies and hoping Rollo has time for 3 more autographs, when I hear a low, smooth, familiar voice behind me ask me if I’m going somewhere!

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Richard Armitage is one shrewd operator. [Photo found on ezyoung.tumblr.com]

(You guessed it!) It’s Richard! Now all becomes clear- the cagey man has sent Clive Standen/Rollo in as a diversion, and slipped unnoticed past the responsible dog ladies on his mission to retrieve FluffyPuff. (No, I don’t know if that’s her name, but it perfectly describes Richard’s little dog.) Forgetting all about Rollo and my dream of autographed OFA patellar certification forms, I turn to Richard. (Yes, the dilemma about the fine I paid earlier has flown right out of my head!) He did remember to remove his Thorin gear, and here he is, wearing familiar Stage Door apparel, a ball cap, and an entirely self-satisfied smile. His gambit has worked. He can sneak in and out with nobody the wiser, and retrieve his FluffyPuff without having to run the yipping dog gauntlet again.

The dog is overjoyed to see him and only makes a small spot on the floor, which I am amazed and touched to see he is prepared for. He pulls a paper towel out of his back pocket and quickly mops up the little mess, while she rolls over in submissive joy and presents her belly for a rub. My heart is melting, as he obliges her, and as soon as he finishes the enthusiastic belly rub, she leaps into his arms and he catches her in an obviously oft-rehearsed move as he smoothly rises to his feet, simultaneously catching the dog and tossing the paper towel into the nearest wastebasket with splendid aim.

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Here is Shania. A full grown Anatolian Shepherd, she weighs in at 130 lb.

Before I can really gather my wits, something catches my attention on the far side of the convention center. I see a beautiful, huge Anatolian Shepherd on a leash, and the crowds are parting around her as she makes her majestic entrance. Then I realize it’s my own Anatolian Shepherd, Shania. And attached to the other end of the (cough! single) leash is my Hubby. (Expletive!) Hubby does look pretty sexy today. I have no idea why he has shown up here with Shania, but he’s dressed to kill in his black jeans, sports coat and boots, like he’s dressed for a date. (Did I forget more than one thing on my Tulsa itinerary? Is this supposed to be a date night? ) Richard follows my gaze and spots Hubby and Shania, and I hurriedly tell him that’s my Hubby. I am suddenly in a complete fluster about what I should do! Hubby knows about my Armitage Affliction, but I didn’t tell him I would be meeting Richard today, and I’m immediately feeling uncomfortably concerned that Hubby might draw the wrong conclusion here!

Richard kindly thanks me for watching his dog, and I am more than relieved to see him slip out of the booth and start for the door. (Evidently our gentleman is no slouch when it comes to reading a domestic situation clearly! Lol) However, much to my consternation, Hubby and Richard Armitage stop and sort of face off in the center of the Convention center in a modified show-ring that was used for some canine obedience demonstrations earlier. I watch like a hawk, not sure what is happening. Is it going to be a pissing match? I have the funny thought that Shania, a giant-breed, could pee gallons compared to FluffyPuff if it came down to a literal pissing match. However, the two men, who are both bearded, dark-haired, blue-eyed, and of a same height, seem to be conversing pleasantly. Richard sets his dog down and she sniffs noses with Shania, who casually wags her tail, and Richard pats Shania’s head. Now that it appears I am not in Big Trouble, I consider whether to join the men and their dogs. Especially when I notice that Rollo Lothbrook is now headed in that direction.

I snatch up my OFA patellar certifications and follow Rollo. If the opportunity arises, I’ll be ready. As I make my way toward the ring, Rollo stops to admire a rather impressive Great Dane, so I’m able to catch him. I ask him how he got roped into being a diversion for Richard Armitage, and he laughs and says he owed him one from their Robinhood days, but he doesn’t elaborate. Clive Standen/Rollo kindly signs my absurd forms, jokingly putting his signature on the line reserved for the certifying veterinarian, and we both hear Richard and Hubby burst out into laughter. I glance over, and see Hubby is showing Richard something on his phone, and then they both laugh again, and Richard slaps Hubby on the back, then covers his face with one hand, laughing and shaking his head as if he can’t believe what was just said.

(This does not surprise me. Hubby has the gift of gab, and is more than capable of holding his own in any kind of ribald exchange.)

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Richard laughs at Hubby’s lewd joke. Pink-ear manip. Photo unattributed, sorry.

I suddenly am not so sure I want to go over there after all, because there is absolutely no telling what they are talking about, and Richard has just glanced in my direction, still chuckling, and his ears are pink. I have a terrible premonition that I might be the butt of this joke, so I sort of smile, lean against the side of the ring, wave casually, and give Hubby one of those looks that a married couple can exchange with perfect comprehension… namely: “I love you, but you’d better get your ass over here and explain yourself, right now!” Aborting my original mission, I thank Clive/Rollo and send him on his way to join Richard, and Hubby continues toward me. Hubby and Rollo fist-bump as they pass one another. I’m impressed.

I greet Hubby with a hug and quick kiss, then I turn to watch the incredibly compelling rear view of the actors as they stroll unhurriedly toward the exit. Richard is sharing something humorous with Clive.  When I turn back to Hubby, I note that he, too, is still smirking. With a knowing look, Hubby asks if I have enjoyed myself today. I flush, and show him the Rollo autographs, and he assures me that his cousin and friend are going to flip out when they see these. I finally get up the courage to ask Hubby what he thought of Richard, and Hubby decides to play it cool, saying Richard seems like a nice, down-to-earth guy. I wait, and Hubby doesn’t say anything else. Finally, I have to specifically ask what they were laughing about, and now it’s Hubby who is turning pink. At first he tries to brush me off, saying it was just a jest, and “Nevermind.” Of course, this only inflames my curiosity further. I’m not about to let him brush me off, (though now I wish I had) so finally, he reveals more about their conversation.

It seems that Richard had seen Hubby watching him walk away from my booth, and so he’d stopped in a friendly manner, and explained that I’d lent a hand in catching his little dog earlier. Then Richard, like most people who have never encountered an Anatolian Shepherd, had politely enquired what breed Shania was. They had talked a bit about dogs, and then Hubby had offered that, being a Cat-Person, this was his first trip to any sort of dog convention, and he’d mentioned to Richard that he’d recently been to a cat show, which was a lot quieter. (This is true!) Richard, the self-confessed Non-Cat-Person, had scoffed at him. Hubby’s rejoinder: “Richard, you really haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen my wife’s naked pussy.”

(#FacePalm! #SomebodyShootMe! #OMFGI’mGoingToKillYou!)

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Charlie and Noobie. My Nekkid Loves. #FacePalm

Then he’d pulled out the cell phone and shown Richard my “naked pussy”- referring, of course, to my beloved Sphynx cats! I am speechless. I am so mortified- yet at the same time, think it’s slightly hilarious- that I sort of shriek out in a horrified cry of laughter, and I smack Hubby, hard, and tell him he’s such an ass! I hear another peal of laughter and turn to see Richard and Clive looking our way, waiting to see what my response would be. I smack Hubby once more for good measure, then bury my face in his chest in mortification, and refuse to look their way again. Ever. I don’t see this, but something tells me Hubby gives them the thumbs up.

And that’s the end.

 * * *

So there you have it! If this scenario ever played out in real life, I’m sorry to say I’d have to kill my Hubby. I do have to give the dream Hubby props, though. I can think of no better way to ensure his wife’s immediate desire to Avoid Richard Armitage At All Costs! LOL