on walking and not walkikng. . .

This past weekend, we headed north for a family wedding. I did head out for a walk Saturday - but not as long a walk as prescribed.








This golf course was on the grounds of Breezy Point, the resort we stayed at.

Yeah, these kinds of signs ARE normal in northern Minnesota! I walked along the trail on Saturday. Sunday, I went around the neighborhood, checking out all the cabins for sale.

Tuesday, I woke up with the best of intentions for getting back on track. I got up. I got dressed. I realized it was raining. I mean REALLY raining. The same was true Tuesday evening.

I did get some walking/running in on Tuesday, though. It started around 3:20 a.m., when I noticed Bubba, our oldest cat, was pacing on the bed. Not a good sign.

Those of you who have raised a child know that when a child is learning to use the bathroom, there are certain behaviors that can signal they'd just rather not, thank you. The same is true for cats that don't wish to use the litter box. Pacing, in our house, is a sign. I threw back the covers, jumped out of bed, and the dance began. Bubba ran into the hallway. I followed. Through the dining room, into the living room, around the coffee table and back to the dining room.

I dragged the little beast out from under the table by his tail, and put him into the litter box and waited. He used it. We went back to bed.

4:30 a.m. Another sign: the pawing of the quilt, like Bubba was an enraged bull. Out of bed. Into the hall. Through the dining room. This time, Bubba lept onto and over the fainting couch, down the radiator length, then into the dining room again. I had to move a chair and crawl under the table to get him and put him BACK in the litter box. He got out right away, as though the box didn't merit his time. I put him back in. He got back out.

6:00 a.m. I missed the pacing. I missed the pawing. I woke up as Mr. Pissypants was using my comfortor as a litter box. Enraged, I threw back the covers and lept out of bed. Grabed the little beast by the scruff of his neck and AGAIN put him in the litter box. The look of surprise on his face was priceless. It said, "Whatever am I doing in this litter box? Why would she put me here? I was perfectly comfortable relieving myself on the bed. . ."

That cat's days are numbered!

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