oh, hell.
Epic manoeuvres this morning: all four cats needed to be taken to the vet for shots and deworming, an incredible procedure requiring three baskets, two people, half an hour's head start for purposes of putting cats in bags, and the cunning of the fiend in catching the little buggers, who have a well-developed ability to slide invisibly into an alternate dimension the second you even think about finding the cat-boxes. With my mother's able assistance we triumphed, however, at no greater cost than her being slashed by Todal during the bit where Todal sticks her paws against the cat-box opening and braces with all the might of her solid and muscular form. Also, the cacophonous four-voice litany of complaint started the instant the first cat went into a box and kept up until we decanted them in the living room at the end of the visit, necessitating me exchanging comments with the vet at the tops of both our voices. I emerged from the experience covered in cat hair and kitty piss. Dear little kitties.
The nasty bit of the whole operation was the routine annual onceover so detrimental to feline dignity. Fish has some kind of horrible thing on her gums, which has a microscopic chance of being an ulcerated abscess, but is far more likely, given its invasive nature, to be a cancerous growth. If this is the case, it's inoperable and largely untreatable. She goes in for biopsy on Monday. Please hold thumbs, cross fingers or otherwise observe rituals of good luck on her behalf. I've rejoiced in Fish-ownership for about fifteen years now, and it's going to be truly horrible if I have to have her put down, even though with the worst case scenario it won't be for a while. I realise this will affect first_fallen about as badly as it does me. Sorry, f-f.
Am busy re-reading the whole Harry Potter series to see how it hangs together now that we know where it's going. In Book I Hagrid tells Harry that James and Lily were Head Boy and Head Girl in their day. What's with all that later stuff about James not being a prefect? Continuity!
Last Night I Dreamed: that someone gave me news that made me really, really unhappy, causing me to spend most of the night wandering restlessly over a giant estate refusing to talk to the anxious friends who were following me. At one point a pair of Indian doctors in labcoats climbed inexplicably into the ceiling of a bathroom, clutching a giant light fitting. At another point jo&stv were relocating their entire book collection to cavernous shelves upon which someone had scrawled cryptic messages in the dust. Parts of the estate garden were given over to epic Hollywood war movies, entailing giant battles and explosions past which I obliviously wandered, moodily swishing a stick. A couple of times Tom Cruise trotted past in MI running mode. It was all a bit odd. I swear I don't make this stuff up...
The nasty bit of the whole operation was the routine annual onceover so detrimental to feline dignity. Fish has some kind of horrible thing on her gums, which has a microscopic chance of being an ulcerated abscess, but is far more likely, given its invasive nature, to be a cancerous growth. If this is the case, it's inoperable and largely untreatable. She goes in for biopsy on Monday. Please hold thumbs, cross fingers or otherwise observe rituals of good luck on her behalf. I've rejoiced in Fish-ownership for about fifteen years now, and it's going to be truly horrible if I have to have her put down, even though with the worst case scenario it won't be for a while. I realise this will affect first_fallen about as badly as it does me. Sorry, f-f.
Am busy re-reading the whole Harry Potter series to see how it hangs together now that we know where it's going. In Book I Hagrid tells Harry that James and Lily were Head Boy and Head Girl in their day. What's with all that later stuff about James not being a prefect? Continuity!
Last Night I Dreamed: that someone gave me news that made me really, really unhappy, causing me to spend most of the night wandering restlessly over a giant estate refusing to talk to the anxious friends who were following me. At one point a pair of Indian doctors in labcoats climbed inexplicably into the ceiling of a bathroom, clutching a giant light fitting. At another point jo&stv were relocating their entire book collection to cavernous shelves upon which someone had scrawled cryptic messages in the dust. Parts of the estate garden were given over to epic Hollywood war movies, entailing giant battles and explosions past which I obliviously wandered, moodily swishing a stick. A couple of times Tom Cruise trotted past in MI running mode. It was all a bit odd. I swear I don't make this stuff up...