why aren't you caught up?

03-26-00

I haven't been slacking, really. This is the first time I've sat down in front of the computer in over three days. I haven't checked my e-mail or anything, so if you inquired as to my whereabouts, don't freak out. I'm alive. Obviously.

I don't even know where I left off. What, drinking with the Welsh guys? That was fun. I remember little, other than being the single one of my friends who didn't embarrass themselves by drinking too much. And this one guy who apologized for his hoarse voice, saying he sounded like he'd "given everyone a good bollocking." Now that's good family fun.

Friday was the bad one. I think the events on Friday are what kept me from updating for a couple of days. The main thing on my mind was too fresh and too hard to write about. The shelter brought over five kittens to be euthanized. They were tiny, eyes not even open, maybe a day or two old. I don't know where the mother was.

And dammit, they were alive. Mewing, some of them kicking and squirming. One looked just like Fleck. Dr. Figaro saw my face, felt bad, and started his stupid fucking justification. If the kittens didn't get their mother's first milk, then their little immune systems are worthless and they'd probably die before six weeks. I know he knows more about it than I do, but for fuck's sake, I would have tried to save them. How much trouble could a little warm water, some baby food, and a heating pad have been?

So he gave them the shots and I took them, piling all five kittens into the palm of my hand for a minute before I slipped them back into their cage.

As if that wasn't enough, we also had to put down a cat who'd had some sort of internal organ failure and starved to death. His owners didn't catch on until it was too late. He was only eight years old.

And there's more! This lady took home a young cat from the shelter last week, then found out that he had a respiratory infection. (That's a cold—the shelter has an epidemic right now.) So she brought it in, but was too late and her three cats caught it. One of them is eighteen and he took it pretty hard. On Friday it was pretty clear he probably wouldn't make it, but now he has. So I feel better. Sassy's not out of the woods yet, but he's got a good chance.

Friday sucked, then. Did I mention I hate working at the vet? I'd be counting the days, but there's no replacement job to turn to just yet.

No journal entry turned up last night because I was up late warming Anna and Becky's new apartment. They've moved in together along four guinea pigs (two each) and Becky's two cats. We definitely had a good time, but the pigs had an even better time. As I've mentioned before, Anna's pigs are gay. Petey in particular—Patch is pretty much his bitch. Last night we put all four (Petey, Patch, Paco and Pedro) together and watched the resulting "chain" of events. Again, great family fun.

Other than that, we watched two episodes of South Park and the South Park movie. And listened to Becky and Anna tear down on the complex where they used to live, which is where most of us still do live. Hello, Tact! Hey, doesn't matter that we're totally jealous of your new place, it's good to know you're not jealous of ours. At least nobody has to call me from the gate just to come over and visit. Buzz you in? Snort. ;)

Hmm...that brings us current. Nothing today. Made myself feel good by letting the owner of the sick kitty come in while I worked this morning, so she could take him out to sit in the sun. It's the only time he eats by himself. John and I fought over who had to go to the laundry facility, and we both ended up going. I can't imagine ever being able to own a washer and dryer. How sad.

Of course, we drove around for a couple hours yesterday and today looking at new and slightly-used cars. It's John's version of window shopping. It's my version of making it up to him for having to go to the mall with me so I could get a pair of presentable khakis for the band tour this week.

I'm in love with Volkswagen. Why can't I have a Beetle? Why?