Feline Frenzy

Not only was Evil all "You. Yeah, the unconscious one. You gonna pet me, or what?" this morning but she was also gambolling around, partaking of the crunchy food, and trotting down to the basement the nanosecond the door was opened. (Only to be scooped up by me, and trotted back upstairs.) She really seems to do much better upstairs with sunlight, constant attention, and a nice window to look out of. Though, it could just be my imagination.

She's getting really, really skinny, though. I hope the stuff we're using to suppress her ulcer will help to perk up her appetite some. For a while, all she was eating (that I could tell) was the thinned baby food I was syringe feeding her with her medication. Still have to go back to the vet today to pick up Silent Bob, who will, no doubt, no longer be speaking to me. (And Grammy will so politely point out that "It was your mommmmmmyyyyyy who took you to the nasty place where they removed your innards, so why don't you come sit on Grammmmmmy, the only one who obviously loves you.") Evil's just thrilled that she isn't the one visiting the vet. This time, anyway.

And the streak? I think it's been at least 8 weeks, if not more (probably more) that I've been to the vet at LEAST once a week (twice only for medication, not a visit). I should be smart, and ask for more prednisone today, so I can skip a week. Because you really, really, should not be able to walk in, and have them 1. know you by sight, 2. Have the refill already up and waiting by the time you get to the counter. You should NOT be at your vet's office that often.

Also: Should have the interview today. Not my first choice, but a job is a job is a job, and I need a paycheck. And some insurance. And really, can it be any worse than what I've left?