The Survivor section; spoilers within; skip to the next section if you haven’t seen last night’s episode or aren’t interested.
Why did they even bother to give the tribes names this time around? You KNOW everyone’s going to refer to them as “Bobby Jon’s tribe” and “Stephenie’s tribe.”
How lucky is Bobby Jon’s tribe to have a frickin’ nurse practitioner on their team? If they have half a brain, they’ll keep that woman around, ’cause she’s already made more of a contribution in the first three days than some of the tribe members will make during their entire stay.
Is it just me, or do the Survivors get younger every season? They’re so young, and so much eye candy that they just kind of blend in to one another; it’s hard to tell them apart.
I’ll say at this point that I really like Margaret (the nurse practitioner); I don’t know if her strategy is to make herself indispensible to her tribe, but she seems to be doing that. I also like Judd because he seems like a likeable kind of guy; he reminds me a lot of Colin Quinn.
So far I don’t hate anyone. Fred was annoyed for a while with Gary (who bears a striking resemblance to Ted Danson, if you ask me), but it’s far too early in the game to know who you like and don’t like.
I wasn’t surprised to see Jim go. Once his bicep snapped (GOD, the idea just makes me CRINGE) and he was obviously in pain and injured, it seemed an easy vote for his tribe.
I sure did miss Survivor and I am SO glad it’s back.
* * *
So, earlier this week we noticed that Spot was gagging a lot. He wasn’t eating and then gagging, he would just be standing there, and would suddenly gag. He was still eating okay, but the gagging escalated, and started to bother us. After a few days of it, Fred took Spot to the vet on Tuesday. The vet checked Spot over, couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him, but said that he was dehydrated, had a fever, and the back of his throat was a bit red and sore looking. They ended up giving him subcutaneous fluids, an antibiotic shot, anti-emetic shot, and prescribed antibiotics for a week. The shot seemed to do wonders; once he got the shot, he clearly felt better, and there was no more gagging.
Fast-forward to Thursday, and after spending part of the morning outside, Miz Poo came inside and barfed up a single blade of grass. And then, every ten minutes or so, she’d sit up, swallow a few times, and then gag. I thought she had a piece of grass stuck in her throat that she couldn’t throw up, but after a few hours the lightbulb went on over my head – I’m a little slow sometimes – and I realized she was doing exactly what Spot had been doing. I called Fred to discuss it with him, and he told me to give her a dose of Spot’s medicine.
I did, and the gagging seemed to slow down a little bit, but it was still happening. When Fred got home, she gagged a few more times and he decided to take her to the vet to see if they could give her a shot of antibiotic and perhaps an anti-emetic as well. When he got there, they took her temperature and found that she was running a fever. The vet looked her over and they ended up giving her the same as Spot – subcutaneous fluids (it cracks us up when they get the subcutaneous fluids, because they end up with a hump that jiggles like Jello until the fluids are absorbed), and an antibiotic/ anti-emetic shot.
In the half hour that Fred spent at the vet, GUESS FUCKING WHAT? Mister Boogers came into the computer room, barfed up a watery puddle of cat food-colored barf, and commenced to gag. And gag. And gag some more. I called Fred (thankyewjeezus for cell phones) and told him he might ask the vet if he could get an anti-emetic for Mister Boogers. They gave him a syringe of antibiotic/ anti-emetic, and antibiotics for both Miz Poo and Mister Boogers.
The only cat who hasn’t shown signs of having this weird throat infection – Fred theorizes that it’s similar to strep throat. Did you know that cats have six tonsils? – is Spanky. I’m keeping an eye on him, but he’s our one cat who is always healthy, so maybe he won’t come down with it.
I mean, I’m not holding my breath, but a girl can dream.
I emailed the shelter manager to let her know that the volunteers might want to keep an eye on Rambo and Jodie. They were fine yesterday morning, so hopefully they haven’t gotten it.
And then this morning, I got an email from the shelter manager. She’s looking for temporary homes for three sets of kittens – one set of five, two sets of four – who are currently in a foster home. The foster mother is going out of town for the week and they need someone to keep the fosters either for a week or until they’re ready to go up for adoption. They’re currently being treated for giardia, so they can’t be out and about too much (they can’t share a litter box with our cats), but I imagine once the course of treatment for giardia is done, they’ll be okay to socialize with our cats.
Anyway, I’m going to pick up one of the litters of four on Sunday. And we’ll keep ’em ’til they’re ready for adoption – which won’t be too long, I think, since two of the litters are three months old, and one litter is eight weeks old, and I’m not sure which we’ll get.
But anyway – kittens! In the house again! Whee!
* * *
I got my car back yesterday, good as new. It looks good, it smells good (like paint!), and not only did they fix the dent, they washed and vacuumed the car!
If you’re in the Madison area and need a place to have body work done on your car, let me know. This place is awesome.
* * *
It’s almost noon, and the spud is still asleep. There’s no school today – it’s apparently “Parenting Day”, and I’m doing my “Parenting” by sitting on my ass in front of the computer while she sleeps the day away – and on non-school days she sleeps very, very late.
She’s going to be hurting on Monday when she has to get up at 6:30, I imagine.
It doesn’t bother me that she sleeps in so late, although I don’t think I could ever do that (not anymore, anyway. I know I did plenty of sleeping ’til noon when I was her age). If I sleep past 9 on the weekends I feel like I’ve wasted the day away, and I feel guilty, even though it’s not like I have a tight schedule or anything.
Fred, on the other hand, feels like he’s a lazy-ass if he sleeps past 6:00. I guess you’d call him more a morning person than the spud and I are. He’s the morning person, the spud’s the night owl, and I’m somewhere in between.
Just call us the three bears.
* * *
Fred actually admitted last night that he misses having Jodie and Rambo around. I almost fell off the bed in shock, because he’s been telling me for weeks now that he didn’t want to get too attached to them so he wouldn’t feel too bad when they were gone.
Hopefully they’ll get their cute little butts adopted tonight or tomorrow. Y’all keep your fingers crossed!
The last of the Jodie and Rambo pictures:
I have no clue what this look is about, but it makes me laugh.
Oh, she’s so pretty. I MISS her!
So sweet, those babies.
Snuggly babies.
For the record, when we got them, Rambo weighed 1 pound, 4 ounces. When I took them to the vet for their rabies shot the day I took them to the pet store, he weighed 3 pounds, 7 ounces.
* * *
Previously
2004: small things that will remind me of my grandmother.
2003: Man, this whole running-a-business thing is strictly FOR THE FUCKING BIRDS.
2002: Fred (as if narrating a book): “She was a bitter-butted woman….”
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.]]>