I can usually tell when a diaper needs to be changed. You know, from the smell. It is something that, 11 months into this parenting thing, I’ve gotten pretty good at. Most days. I mean, I do occasionally miss a messy diaper and then feel terribly guilty that my little guy has been crawling around for, um, hours with a mess down there.

But then there are the fake-outs. Like this evening when we were in the family room and it smelled so bad that I didn’t even check it out before racing Conal upstairs and plopping him on the changing table and struggling through the diaper change. And it wasn’t messy. Wasn’t even wet! Hmm…

So, back downstairs we went. We started playing again, having the fun that we have. And there it was! That smell! That yucky, stinky, bad, fake-out messy diaper smell. And, well, duh! There was the cat. Mo, the one with the bad kidneys. Just lounging out on the carpet, emitting a stink and seeming to enjoy it.

Yeah. I’ve got to get on that. Mo has been doing well — his energy’s been up, he’s been eating and drinking a lot and I guess I thought he was fine. You know, living his 7th or 8th life. Running around the house, chasing Chili, basking in the sun, having a grand ol’ time.

The stink, though. Big sign that I have been wrong. Eergh!

This means I’ve got to be better about the shots. I will do it! Tomorrow. Or, Saturday. Definitely Saturday. I promise.