Thursday, July 30, 2015


For most of us, we lead complicated lives. Even if you think you lead a simple life, you don't.  

You have to have food, water, and space to live. I get that. But you also have to have the means to provide them, right? That means a job (or some other means of income).  You have to buy  your food, make sure your home doesn't become something on a Discovery Channel show about filth and mental illness, and basically move forward making the best decisions we can for ourselves and those around us that are important.  Complex decisions indeed, right?

Then there's Quill.

Lets review those requirements.  

Food.  Umm, we provide that. In fact, we have to feed him twice a day but in two phases. Phase 1 involves one-sixth of can of special kidney-friendly food and half of a crushed tummy pill ('cause he urps now and then (especially when he eats too fast)). Phase 2 involves the second one-sixth of a can (30 minutes later) and his insulin ('cause he is diabetic). On top of all that, we have to make sure his dry food bowl has food. If its empty, he pitches a major bitch.

Water.  Yup, we do that, too.  It's in a bowl next to his food. Once upon a time, he used to drink from the toilet bowl but he doesn't do that anymore.  Natalie also has him, I said that wrong...Quill has Natalie trained to make sure there is a glass of water available next to the bed. That would be our bed, by the way... 

...which brings us to space. Our space is his space, but he has his space that we don't use and yet we provide.  For example, I don't use a litter box. I don't clean it either (Natalie has to do that; its a long story).   I can't fit under the couch for my mid-day siestas and I don't occupy the Federal installation known as Fort Quill (seen by most as nothing more than a chair with sweatshirts draped across the seat to form a three-sided hiding spot).  

So he gets it all, those important provisions.  Food. Water. Space to live.  Everybody needs them. He's no different. He just gets them all from us.  

His biggest decision?  "Where should I nap? In the sun on the floor or on Paul's guitar case?"  

We wouldn't have it any other way.

Now if he would just stop letting those poops stick to his butt. 

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