Delirious Texting

This morning I woke up to Squirrel sending me a picture on my phone. It was this photo and it made me happy.


I thought, “How did he know that last night I wanted Oscar to sit by me like he used to when I was really sick?” Then I thought, “Oh, no. I didn’t. I didn’t, did I?” Followed by, “I better check my texts.” Sure enough I’d sent him this little gem:

If it was Christmas I’d ask Santa for a catheter and for Oscar to be alive again. I wouldn’t even ask for Oscar to be smarter so he could be the one to use the catheter on me. (That’s just weird. Plus, that might mean he’d be a nurse, and whoever has heard of a dog graduating from nursing school? And don’t get me started on his hair and all the possibilities that opens for UTI’s.) No, I’d make him one of those service dog vests (or steal one; I’m thinking the best option would be from someone who is blind. It’s pretty obvious why they have dogs). Then I could take him everywhere. I’d tell him he was a good dog and he wouldn’t judge me for wanting a catheter right now.

I also sent a text to a friend telling him how creative I was right then which completely supported my theory that artistic geniuses are mentally unwell. I went on to say that while I may not become a master in art, literature, or music I definitely could have a successful career in greeting cards. Go me! Way to aim high.