Since y’all have asked (or commented) in my comments:
Trey is Nance’s 14 year-old son. Though I am struck with the urge to call him her “man friend” from here on out. Heh.
Sugarbutt had between his back toes cleaned due to an infection (ya damn SKIMMER; I just wrote about it on Monday!).
I know why the vet told us to use paper in the litter box for Sugarbutt.
Mission accomplished!
Next mission: convincing Trey to get a mohawk and dye it pink.
(Just kidding. He has no desire for a mohawk!)
Me = bad influence.
I left the house bright and early yesterday morning to drop the kittens and Kara off at the vet. I put all the kittens in one carrier and Kara in a carrier by herself, and as I left the house I said to Nance “The kittens have never been in a car!” and she said “Then how the hell did they get here… oh, right! They were born here!”
Guess what sometimes happens when kittens ride in a car for the first time, and they are very scared? Well APPARENTLY sometimes they barf. A lot. We were about five minutes away from the vet’s office when they started up, and I stopped as soon as I could in the parking lot of a gas station to see what the hell was going on. What was going on was that there was barf all over the cat bed inside the carrier, and the kittens had tromped all through it, so they had vomit all over their paws and they were scared and LET US OUT, DAMNIT.
I had to get in the back seat with the carrier, napkins in hand, and cleaned them as well as I could. They kept trying to climb out of the carrier (River, especially) and I had to push them in, and it was a big, barfy mess. Eventually I gave up, and drove the rest of the way to the vet’s office and warned the vet tech that they were a mess.
We weighed them (they all weigh between 3.2 (Kaylee) and 3.5 (River) pounds; Kara weighs 8.5 pounds) and then the vet tech took them off to the back to put them in cages, and I left for home.
When I got home, we sat around and shot the bull for most of the morning, then decided what to do, and headed for Closeville. We ate lunch at Logan’s Roadhouse. I’ve never been there before, but the food was good (I had a grilled chicken sandwich) and we had mini-desserts, which came in these little bitty shotglass-sized buckets. It was just the right amount of sweet.
Nance asked where a Starbucks we’d seen the day before was located, so we headed there. They didn’t have the cup she was looking for, so we turned around and headed for the Wal-Mart in Closeville. On the way, we passed a tattoo parlor and Trey asked if we could stop, and I said “It’s up to your mom”, and Nance rolled her eyes and growled “OH FINE.”
That place was closed, though, due to a family emergency, so Nance called a place in Huntsville she’d tried calling earlier in the day (apparently tattoo parlors don’t open ’til noon or later), found out the details of what needed to be done, and asked if we needed an appointment. The woman told her we could come right then, so we turned around and headed into Huntsville.
600 pages of paperwork later, Trey and Nance went to the back of the tattoo parlor. I stood and looked at tattoos* and waited to hear a scream of pain, but before I knew it, out they came. Trey didn’t appear to be about to faint (though Nance was another story!), and he had a nice, shiny new badass eyebrow piercing.
See more graphic pictures over at Nance’s.
We headed home, stopped at Wal-Mart because I needed supplies to make the Fourth of July cake. They didn’t have ANY raspberries, I couldn’t find the cream cheese, and that freakin’ place was so packed I could barely move without someone blocking my way. Since I have to go to the store to get steak (we’re grilling out tomorrow), I figured I’d worry about that stuff tomorrow (today), and we left.
Fred was home when we got there, and after a little while he came inside with a bucket of green beans and cherry tomatoes. Then he started pizza dough in the bread maker, and we left. I dropped him off to pick up his truck, and then headed to pick up Kara and the kittens.
When I walked in, the receptionist said that she wasn’t sure if all the kittens were done (apparently they’d had a busy day), but luckily they were (Kara was still very groggy), and I put their carriers in the back seat and headed for home. When we got home, none of the cats were up for playing – the girls all slept, Kara was weaving around like she was drunk, and River looked at me like “I could play… if I have to. I don’t have to, do I? I can just take a nap?”
Poor babies.
*I saw a really cute cat paw print tattoo. I reflected that I could get a paw print tattoo for each of our cats on the back of my shoulder (and down my back), but if I get them for each of our 9 cats, I’d have to get them for the cats who’ve passed on, right? And then as each cat passes on and we get new ones, I’d have to get a new one for each new cat. Like Fred said, “You’ll have 50 paw prints by the time you’re 65!” Ah well.
Anyone see the Mack truck that hit that poor kitteh?
Previously
2007: Two movies in one summer. Can my heart take it?
2006: “I love you, but GODDAMN DO I HATE HIKING.”
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: Miz Poo vs. The Intel Man.
2002: Fred tries to poison me.
2001: Letters.
2000: It occurs to me that that’s perhaps far more detailed than y’all need.