In lieu of a video post for this weekend, which I will do when I get back and have time to edit, I will do a couple posts on how to start off a relaxing vacation.

Step 1 – Get locked out of your apartment after you give the cat sitter your key.

Step 2 – Listen to your cat howl at you in desperation from inside the apartment while you wait in the cold for your other half to rescue you.  Yell at said cat when you hear him destroying ALL OF THE THINGS.

Step 3 – Lose your sunglasses before you go to the sunniest place on earth.

Step 4 – (Accidentally) poison your cat.

Step 5 – Cry while you and the cat finish destroying ALL OF THE THINGS.

In my attempt to make things as calm as possible before leaving our ‘little gentleman friend’, I managed to completely terrify and terrorize him.  We decided to give him a dose of a new flea medication because we were having someone else come in and out of the house, and our little gentleman has a tendency to run the hell out the front door.  This turned out to be one of my least brilliant ideas ever.  The new anti-flea meds turned out to be the medication from hell.  Following the directions, I put a few drops of the flea medication onto the skin between his shoulder blades.  However, since our cat is extra-aerobic (and apparently shares some lineage with OWLS) he can turn his head to reach where the flea medication promised me he wouldn’t be able to.  He took one lick and immediately started frothing at the mouth, running around the house, and generally fuh-reaking the hell out.  As a calm and rational pet-owner, I fuh-reaked the hell out alongside him.

The flea drops turned into an oil slick, and kitty did.not.like.  After a call to my mom (moms always have the answers!)  I bribed him with wet food and even tuna to help him get the taste out of his mouth, but poor kitty has the short term memory of Leonard Shelby, and kept trying to groom his shoulders.  After his hair in that area started to fall out in alarming tufts, I decided it was kitty bath time.  Screw the fleas.  After the first bath, the oil slick only looked worse.  Bath two came and went, and it looked a little better, and he seemed to have calmed down, and was eating, pooping, and behaving normally (aside from a shoulder shaking tick).  A put on a hazmat suit and threw those flea drops from hell into the ‘biohazard bin’ (also known as the garbage that does not reside inside my apartment. The next morning kitty was back to his usual self… I however, was only beginning my adventure into the time…that everything some things went to shit.

More on that later on.

I leave you with this face.