A little extra for the IRS

It's tax time, and my friend Oliver has expressed his issues with the IRS in a nonviolent, yet effective, way. I'm not sure what Oliver's issues are, he being a cat. However, his feelings are clear: his folks had left out an array of documents, waiting to be sorted and accounted for, and Oliver, perhaps a bit queasy from all of the numbers, left some scat on that.

His parents, far from being scandalized, appreciated the irony.

Now, I would never—besides, my folks have, very fortunately, an accomplished accountant in the family, so they do not sully their brains with such minutiae.

More on Oliver. Perhaps I stretch the truth when I say we are friends. In fact, during my last visit on Oliver's porch, I was impressed not so much by this gargantuan specimen supposedly of the smaller feline species, but by an art project, namely, a feathered doorstop attempting to be an owl. Well, for all I knew, it was an owl, and by the time I was through baying at it (my incessant howls ceased only upon forcible removal from the area) it was clear that I was not a candidate for residency in that esteemed section of Swellesley.

Oliver himself was the subject of a recent letter from his mom, upon the occasion of a visit to the vet:

He weighed in at 17.5 lbs. which is a lot lighter than I thought he was.  The vet said he was not fat, just a little heavier than average. 

Now that's a vet with a great attitude!

He is just a big cat. I don't think I have ever seen a bigger one other than a Maine coon cat," she said. I think he must have some Maine coon cat in him. The vet wouldn't let me leave the office without a carrying case so I had to buy one for him. Well, Oliver LOVES it. He sleeps in it all the time. The vet said he was a very cool cat and he could come visit any time. 

Unless, of course, it's tax time.