Crazy cat lady incoming
I am becoming the crazy cat lady, I can already tell.
This morning I heard a loud clonk and looked around to see Annie-cat nuzzling the books on the bottom shelf of a bookcase. What I think happened was that she attempted the "brush by and scent mark" thing and miscalculated it into a headbutt, then recovered gracefully with a nuzzle to the books.
This is a frequent thing. I'm starting to suspect she has a permanent concussion and that's why she miscalculates.
Last night I spent most of the night having nightmares about taking Kate to the vet. Apparently the vet will tell me she's terribly ill, probably dying, and only this regime of twenty pills a day for a week will save her.
The part that worried me wasn't trying to work out how to stuff twenty pills into my stubborn cat. The part that worried me was that I couldn't administer the pills due to being on immuno-suppressants.
Let's not even discuss how whacked out my brain must now be to combine my fear for Kate (and I wasn't worried about Miss Stinky Butt until I booked her into the vet) with my worry about increasing my Humira dosage. My brain, man. It's a terrifying place.
I say that with complete authority because I've seen what I'm writing this week. And also what I'm trying not to write (OMG, no to the unicorns). Be glad that my brain isn't something you can see into, people.
This entry was originally posted at http://selenay.dreamwidth.org/457334.html. There are currently
babbles on the entry on Dreamwidth
This morning I heard a loud clonk and looked around to see Annie-cat nuzzling the books on the bottom shelf of a bookcase. What I think happened was that she attempted the "brush by and scent mark" thing and miscalculated it into a headbutt, then recovered gracefully with a nuzzle to the books.
This is a frequent thing. I'm starting to suspect she has a permanent concussion and that's why she miscalculates.
Last night I spent most of the night having nightmares about taking Kate to the vet. Apparently the vet will tell me she's terribly ill, probably dying, and only this regime of twenty pills a day for a week will save her.
The part that worried me wasn't trying to work out how to stuff twenty pills into my stubborn cat. The part that worried me was that I couldn't administer the pills due to being on immuno-suppressants.
Let's not even discuss how whacked out my brain must now be to combine my fear for Kate (and I wasn't worried about Miss Stinky Butt until I booked her into the vet) with my worry about increasing my Humira dosage. My brain, man. It's a terrifying place.
I say that with complete authority because I've seen what I'm writing this week. And also what I'm trying not to write (OMG, no to the unicorns). Be glad that my brain isn't something you can see into, people.
This entry was originally posted at http://selenay.dreamwidth.org/457334.html. There are currently
babbles on the entry on Dreamwidth