Currently reading: Land of the Living, by Nicci French.
Finished last night: Any Place I Hang My Hat, by Susan Isaacs. Good book, with a somewhat predictable ending.
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This section deals with 24; skip to the next section if you haven’t seen last night’s episode or are uninterested.
I can-fucking-NOT believe they killed Edgar off. THOSE FUCKERS.
If they kill Chloe off, I will STOP WATCHING THE SHOW, I swear I will!
And my prediction for next week is that Lynn McHobbitt will sacrifice himself, since it’s his own damn fault that the bad guy was able to get into CTU and set off the bomb.
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I had to take Miz Poo to the vet yesterday, because her lip is starting to swell up again. We had a good 2 1/2 months of an unswelled lip, but it’s back again. It’s not bad yet, but we figured it was best to see the vet immediately instead of waiting for it to get bad.
Have I mentioned that the vet is half an hour away? I don’t care, though – I really like her. This is the vet’s office (one of them, I guess I should say) that treats the shelter’s foster kittens.
Anyway, I boxed Miz Poo up in the one cat carrier we have (I keep trying to remember to get another carrier, though I really think we need at least three, but I keep forgetting):
Before I get to what the vet said, let me show you something that was sitting in the exam room that I found just the tiniest bit… weird.
What the HELL is going on there?! Is the goat about to get a gynecological exam? But goats with horns are boys, aren’t they? Mr. Goat certainly looks concerned, whatever the problem is, and Dr. Pig seems to be reassuring while educating. I had to get a closer look, and I found
that they’re apparently looking at an X-ray, and Dr. Pig is explaining what’s going on while Mr. Goat contemplatively strokes his pot belly.
Maybe if I’d looked closer at the X-ray, I’d have been able to figure out what the problem was…
Anyway. The vet came in and looked Miz Poo over, then we discussed what’s been going on with her. What it came down to is that the steroid shots that cured her lip before aren’t a great thing to keep giving her, because they can cause diabetes and heart trouble. The vet did some research and found that in a large percentage of cases like Miz Poo’s, the problem is an allergy to fleas or mosquitoes and/ or the food they’re eating. Which we knew, from the other vet, and we also tried switching her food a couple of years ago, and it did bupkis. Anway, she ended up giving me a new bag of Hill’s Prescription food – d/d Duck and Green Pea*, for the record – and we’re to try that, keep giving her Advantage, and keep her inside as much as possible. We’re willing to switch the food and keep giving her the Advantage, but I’m not thinking that keeping her inside is going to work. It’s bad enough now when Fred shuts the cat door so the cats can’t go out after dark – the pretty but kinda dumb Sugarbutt loses his MIND, he just can’t figure out how it was that he was able to get outside earlier but can’t anymore – I can’t imagine how much of a cow they’d have if they couldn’t go out all day long.
I thought about just letting them in and out through the door when they wanted in (or out) instead of leaving the cat door open all the time, but they’re in and out CONSTANTLY (just since I started this paragraph, Sugarbutt ran outside and then immediately hauled ass back inside), and if Miz Poo wasn’t such a social cat I’d consider keeping her locked in one room, but if she couldn’t haul a toy from one end of the house to the other, keening the entire time and drop the toy near me so that she might receive some praise, she’d die of a broken heart. So we’re going to do the other things and pray that it helps.
Oh and by the way, the Hill’s Prescription Duck and Green Pea? So far, not a hit. The cats look at it, look at us, and meow sadly.
*Duck and Green Pea sounds like a cartoon, doesn’t it?
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Yesterday I was sitting at my desk, waiting for it to be time to take Miz Poo to the vet, and I glanced up to find a truck with some kind of official seal on the door, sitting directly in front of the house. An older man was sitting in the truck, and he kept looking at our house and then writing things down.
“Oh crap,” I groaned. “We’re about to get a citation or something!” What kind of citation? Fuck if I know. Maybe a citation for the incredible amount of cat shit we put in the garbage can and expect the garbage men to haul away every week?
The guy sat and wrote on his clipboard for about ten minutes, and then he got out of the truck. I waited for a knock on the door, but he ended up heading for the water hydrant sitting near the street between our yard and the yard belonging to the people on our right (if you’re facing the street; they’re on our left if you’re facing the house OBVIOUSLY), fiddled with the hydrant for a few minutes, and then let loose a spray of water.
I was so very seriously tempted to run out and splash around in the water, but (a) I had to leave for the vet’s in five minutes and (b) I’m shy. Shut up! I am! Anyway, he let it run for about five minutes, then shut it off and drove away.
Do they have to test the hydrants every so often? I don’t remember that ever happening before.
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Fred LOVES to torture the cats by holding up one side of their mouth, exposing their long, scary teeth, and making a growling sound.
Tommy was so dead to the world, his lip stayed that way.
Da Boog is a slut for the belly rub.
I got a bottle of bubbles for Fred at Michael’s last week. He took the cats and the bubbles outside, and I’d say the bubbles were a hit with the cats, especially Tommy. I ADORE the look on his little face.
Tommy always walks around with his tail curved back like that. He’s such a good boy.
All of today’s uploaded pictures are
here.
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Previously
2005: Book recommendations and a meme.
2004: No entry.
2003: Be afraid. Be very afraid.
2002: Food for her youngs.
2001: Not much going on here.
2000: Mean mommy, huh?]]>