Poor kitty

My cat brother Adric has some nicknames - notably Badric. He earned this one by jumping on top of doors, shredding toilet paper rolls, turning on the hot water in the tub and then shutting himself in the bathroom creating a personal sauna and by assisting me when I scout for food (not a Person-approved activity) by tossing loaves of bread and other goodies to me from the counter top. He even threw me an entire bag of training treats from the top of the refrigerator. I ate them all and maybe that is why I am so well-trained.

Well, Adric has a new nickname and it is Sadric. He is the saddest sad sack of a cat ever. That isn't a holiday stocking he has donned. Poor Adric had to have surgery on his broken leg and now he's got this big old cast with a red wrapper to haul around and his very ample-looking thigh has been shaved. How embarrassing is that? And that other blob of shaved-ness is his even more ample belly.

That Adric sure doesn't have my trim sportsman's physique. But he doesn't go for daily runs by the river either. He sleeps and stretches and walks around like a princeling and sleeps some more. And that is on a busy day.

I feel badly for him even if he is getting the royal treatment - he has special beds all over the place and every time I try to nap on one my Person growls at me. And he gets extra food (look at that thigh, Person, and restrain yourself!), and he gets held whenever he wants and that is almost all the time. And he gets special medicine but I would rather have treats than that.

I am hoping for a nice romp outside today but there is a slick layer of ice on the ground. Even with four legs I am going to have to be careful out there. I may be a little red dog but I sure don't want to end up with a red leg like Adric!