Hello, it's Ernie again. Mom's asleep, and I stole the computer for a while. She should have known better than to make the password ashleyernstberger. She is definitely a target for identity theft!
You may be wondering about my very private condition. I have a few updates. The last I wrote, Mom had to begin collecting my pee. It's times like that where I really wish my arms were long enough to give her a hug. She really deserved it. She was bent over the bathtub with a baby eye-dropper trying to siphon my urine droplets out of the tub and into a plastic baggie. She even used a dust pan a couple of times. I wish I could have helped, Mom! Maybe next time you should just tape the plastic bag to me and let me hang out with it for a while.
After getting a sample, she took it to the doctor. He did a test on it and found that I probably have a bladder stone. OUCH! No wonder it has been hurting so bad for so long! Anyway, Mom and Dad have been talking for a while about what to do. The doctor wants me to have an x-ray so they can see the stone, but Mom and Dad don't want to do that. They said it costs $80, and from what I hear, that's about what Mom makes in one week as a teacher. I know they can't afford it.
Dad told the doctor that he just wanted to the special medicine and cat food that was going to make me better. I don't think the doctor was too happy about not having the x-ray, but he must have agreed to give Mom and Dad the goods. I know this because this morning Mom was chasing me around the house with an eye dropper full of this pink goo and she was trying to shove it in my mouth. SICK! She tried twice, but I ran away (and gave her a swift kick to the stomach a couple of times). Seriously, Mom, you try drinking that stuff!
Mom did give me some special cat food that is supposed to help my stone. It is mine and mine alone! How nice! Since the day of my birth, Edna and I have shared everything. Same food. Same water. Same toilet. Now I have something of my own! Edna didn't like it. She kept trying to eat it, but Mom told her to go away. I get to have my special food twice a day.
When Dad got home, he and Mom tricked me into taking that pink goo. Mom held me while Dad forced the pink goo down my throat. They said I was a good boy, but I was fighting back tears.
I don't know if I can tell a difference yet in the way I feel. I just hope that I get better soon. Although I will miss peeing in the tub. It's much more civilized than a litter-filled box with day-old turds that I share with my sister. Ew.
Til next time...