June 20, 2002

Fancypants. We’ve noticed for a little while – a couple of weeks, I think – that he had a little bald-type spot on his side. There wasn’t anything wrong that we could see, but the hair wasn’t growing back or anything, either, so finally Fred took him to the vet yesterday. According to the vet, Fancypants had two cysts that had ruptured and were infected. They had to shave the area (I told Fred that he should have told them to shave the rest of him while they were at it!) and put medicine on it, then gave Fred a little bottle of amoxycillin to give him every day. When Fred got home with Fancypants, he pointed out that Fancypants’ collar was missing, and we figured that he’d gotten hung on something and the collar – being a breakaway collar – had done it’s job and broken. I made a mental note to order another nametag, and we closed the cat door so that Fancypants couldn’t go outside and get himself in more trouble. And he promptly registered his displeasure by shitting on the floor. Twice. He’s SUCH an asshole. How sad am I that seeing the UPS truck stop in front of my house makes me want to do a little dance? And further, how pathetic am I that I want to sob wildly when I see that he’s going next door? Even though I know that I haven’t ordered anything and thus shouldn’t be getting a delivery from UPS. Sad, pathetic Robyn. Anyway. Fancypants. So I was sitting at the computer after we’d discussed that his collar was missing, and I glanced up and saw our next-door neighbor walking across the lawn in front of the windows in the computer room, a red collar dangling from her hand. When I answered the door – after an argument with Fred about how he should answer the door, but he was wearing his underwear and claimed he couldn’t (the underwear look JUST like shorts, by the way) – she held out the collar and said “It looks like Mr. Fancypants lost his collar!” I could hear Fred snickering from the kitchen, because he thought it was just the funniest damn thing that I had “Mr. Fancypants” printed on the nametag, instead of his “real” name. I thanked her and we talked for a minute, wherein she told me that Fancypants killed a bird in her yard and left his collar in a pile of feathers. Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t know if she knows that he killed a bird, or just assumes it because of the pile of feathers. Anyway, I told her the story about the murder at the end of my bed and then thanked her. At least I don’t have to order a new nametag now. I finished reading A Staggering Work of Heartbreaking Genius A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius last night. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would, but I also think it could have used some heavy editing – believe it or not, unstinting snark gets old if it’s left unchecked. I ended up skimming a lot of the last few chapters, but there was a lot that had me grinning like a fool, so overall I’d recommend it. I wouldn’t recommend it to the point that you go out and buy it, but it’s worth checking out from the library. Once I finished that, I started the new Evanovich, and I’m about three-quarters of the way done with it. I shot a large amount of Diet Coke out my nose during lunch, due to a scene involving a lawyer and a dryer. I’ll say no more – I wouldn’t want to ruin it for y’all. Speaking of Hard Eight, though, I notice that the Amazon price is $18.17. I got it at Sam’s for less than $15 – and I didn’t have to pay shipping. I love Sam’s.]]>