How much for a trade-in?

Yesterday morning hubs found what one could call a surprise on the bathroom rug and on a towel, although we wouldn't call it a surprise, because Maggie has been quite consistent with her kidney related issues- the ones in which the Vet ran a complete panel of tests and said there is absolutely nothing wrong with her. Well, at least not physically.

So I tossed them both in the washing machine. (The rug and towel. Not Maggie and the Vet.)

Then the intruder arrived on the porch, all sweet and nice and purring and lounging on my wicker furniture without leaving a stain.

Last night when we went to bed, I told hubs that I was putting Maggie in the garage.

He said,"ALL NIGHT?"

"Yes. It's not cold outside."

"Poor, poor Maggie. She is getting banished to the garage."

"Well, she needs to quit going on the rugs."

So this morning I let her in and she let out a moan and a groan in an Oh, The Trouble I've Seen fashion that would have alerted the Humane Society. She didn't stop griping until she got to the kitchen so that she would look sweet and impress me so that I would feed her.

It's all about her.

I tell you what. This cat of mine. She is like the little old lady in the fur coat who has spent her entire life managing the ladies' rummage sale and now she suddenly decides to get a convertible and ride around in Paris shopping for high heel shoes and drinking Perrier with lime. Then she arrives at the family reunion with a new boyfriend who is at least 25 cat years younger than her, and they are both sporting tattoos that say,"Simba" and tiger's eye belly button rings.

If they had belly buttons.

Listen up, Maggie. There is a sweet, short haired replacement with better bladder control and manners waiting outside on the porch. You'd better start losing that mid-life crisis of yours, or the garage will be the least of your worries.

In case you are new to my blog, please know that Maggie could be going on my husband's pillow and I wouldn't give her up. My pillow? Well... ;>)