The Daily Bailey

It wasn’t my fault. I just wanted to feel no pain. Specifically hunger pain. I wanted to feel the golden warmth of a full belly... To be in a food coma, not an actual coma. Look, I swear that I did not try to off myself again... I swear. I know that life is precious. Life is like a box of treats.

Although apparently my breaking into a cabinet above my head, getting a hold of a bag of Pet Naturals of Vermont Hairball treats (see above) and eating 40-43 of them was of some slight concern to her. At first I simply got a serious scolding while HE went to buy contraptions to lock the cabinets so I can no longer have access. However while Bob Vila was gone, she examined what was left of the treat bag and started to freak out. From what I gathered, it said something about an accidental overdose. My full stomach was making me really tired, and she kept yelling at me to “WAKE UP... Don’t close your eyes.” And then the treats hit the fan.

Next thing I know I’m at an animal hospital being sodomized by a vet tech who thought she was serious when she said my name was Bailey, Bad Bailey. He actually scribbled that down on my intake sheet. The emergency doctor was confused and thought my name was Brad, but after we straightened that out, he agreed that Bad Bailey would be a totally bad ass name. So a bad ass I decided to be. While awaiting my diagnosis from a consult with poison control, I tried to open all of the cabinets in the exam room to see if any stray treats were left laying around.

$261 and some fluids injected underneath my skin later, I’m on my way home to jump up on the counter and see what other treats are in the cabinet. Wait, what did she say? I’m grounded and being enrolled at the Huntington Learning Center for degenerate felines? But, punishment doesn't work and I said I’d do better. Ugh FINE saying it and doing it are indeed two different things. If I do it, can I get a treat?... Too soon?