A fan of Cosette and Eponine on Mediabistro has requested more pictures of them. So, here they are. Back by popular demand, are the two most spoiled little faces on earth.

As you can see, Cosette enjoys the spirit of Christmas.

Eponine is extremely difficult to photographs because she is constantly on the move, hyper-fluff. But here she is one of her famous pretzel-twist poses.

When time is short, there’s always a beautiful little face to fill an empty space. I had great plans to post some interesting news which confirms my theory of the so-called nursing shortage, but I really need to get this article about preventing antibiotic resistance completed. I dawdled for a few days on it and now the deadline is looming.

So here, look at that little face. If I get done I may still post today. If not, manana por la manana.

I was a little bit busy today, but I am in the fortunate position to have editorial help. My guest blogger, Cosette, very nicely agreed to fill in today. And of course, she had the help of my very efficient editor, Pixie.

Cosette, knowing how busy I am, trying to finish my assignments so that I can get paid and therefore, be able to afford her gourmet meals, is lending a helping paw. Rather than let my blog go entry-less, she has allowed me to post her beautiful little face up. How’s that for a pal!

Well, Eponine’s paw appears to be back to normal and completely healed. The crisis of the ingrown nail is over. Here’s her paw, good as new. I didn’t give her the full 7 days of her antibiotic. I know, bad mommy. But she hated taking it, and I genuinely forgot. And of course, she didn’t remind me.

They won. The litter has been changed. Fancy crystals are out, clumping clay back in. Of course, Eponine has to pay a price for her victory. Now she gets to have her paw wiped after each run to the litter box. I can’t believe that she’s been holding it in for almost 24 hours.

Cosette has also emerged from hiding. Ah, that sweet aroma of clumping clay litter. Doesn’t she look smug!

The little Nish is fine, no worse off for her traumatic experience yesterday. However, she is still screaming at the litter box, and I can’t tell if she’s used it or not. The pee-pee evaporates immediately, so there’s no tell-tale signs. And no sign of the stuff which comes out of the other end.

Cosette is less skittish, but still acting weird. I don’t think she’s used the new litter either. All of this commotion over one simple ingrown nail. And all because the Nish is a spitfire, and absolutely refuses to sit still and allow her nails to be clipped.

Today seems like a good day to take my laptop out to a cafe, and not return home until things are back to normal. How can two tiny little furfaces wield so much power in a household??????

Who cares about polio and iron lungs, and deadly germs. Today was a major cat-astrophe–my sweet, beloved, totally crazed and spoiled beyond comprehension cat Eponine had to go to the vet. Diagnosis? An ingrown toenail.

I really couldn’t believe it. How does an active little spitfire, who is always sharpening her feet, get an ingrown nail? True, it is near impossible to clip her nails, but still. The vet agreed. She never sees ingrown nails, except on very old and/or sick cats, that don’t move around much.

So the plot thickens. The “sick toe” set me back $91.83. Next, because it’s an open wound, she needs special litter–anything but the normal clay kind. The vet recommended these silica crystals, which are quite popular and are supposed to absorb odors, don’t need to be changed very often (except to scoop the poop out), and scatter less. So two bags of crystals (actually, I think they’re gold plated), at a total of $20.00.

Now the plot really thickens. Eponine (better known as the Nish) comes home smelling like the vet’s office. My other cat, Cosette (yes, they are named after the characters in Les Miserables) is freaked out and goes hiding under the kitchen sink. Six hours later, she is still there, having made a brief appearance to eat her dinner. Eponine seems fine, paw-wise, but refuses to use her fancy new litter. She is walking around screaming, going over to the litter box, screaming a little more. She’s got to go, but won’t use it.

I’m taking two valium and going to bed.

Cosette extends an invitation to all, to join her for toast and coffee, on this rainy Saturday morning (rainy in Seattle, anyway). She normally prefers fresh baked croissants from the organic French bakery in Belltown, but alas, no sucker was willing to brave the rain this morning to go and buy them. So Cosette, spoiled as she is, has to settle for a slice of Ezekial Sprouted Grain bread with almond butter.