Some days are just so full of petty annoyances that all you want to do is complain about them in like a ten minute rant with a drink in your hand. Unfortunately there are no humans in the house at present who can listen and make sympathetic noises ; only the cats are here and they just keep blinking at me. Le sigh. A normal person would call a friend but even though I actually need to call my best friend since I haven’t talked to her in a disgraceful six weeks, I am phone phobic (I think it’s part of the social anxiety deal) and the thought of picking up the phone is inexplicably stressful to me, even though I know that if I called her we would totally have an awesome conversation and I would be all jazzed just from having talked to her … but I suck and instead I am telling the many-eyed internets.
But maybe I will be able to make this funny! I’m ingesting a twisted dark and stormy as I type and so I’ll probably find myself funny towards the end of this, even if no one else does. Because it has been ONE OF THOSE DAYS.
So all was well this morning – I was grumpy as hell, but that’s normal for Thursday (I'm really tired by this point in the week but I don’t yet have the consolation of saying, “at least it’s Friday.”) And work was fine except I had a meeting at 2:30 which ran way late (some other attendees were late getting to the meeting so we were late getting started.) And then that meant I was late getting out at 3:30, which I had to do to get Zoe to the vet at 4; plus the ran-late meeting was one of those exciting ones where you leave with seventeen new action items and the weight of the world on your shoulders. On the way to Zoe’s vet, Inty’s non-local vet called and we chatted for a bit and dammit, she needs to stay on all 3 medications (prednisone pill, oral anti-nausea liquid reglan and ¼ of a pepcid, which we crush up and mix with milk and give to her in an oral syringe.) Plus I gotta go back to Zoe’s vet tomorrow (which is local) to pick up Inty’s prescription from the non-local vet, which was faxed through.
So anyway, got Zoe to the vet (late) for her x-rays and there was a kind of suspicious mass which could just be a lump of colon or could be something more ominous. So her x-rays showed that she was full of stool and are otherwise inconclusive. The more ominous answer would explain her weight loss; it could just be she’s lost weight because her infected teeth are rotting out of her head. To see if the tooth infection is causing her not to eat, we are putting Zoe on a trial regime of antibiotics and painkillers. The thinking is that if she responds to the antibiotics and painkillers, we can be relatively certain that it’s a problem with her teeth and go ahead with a dental cleaning and extraction. If she doesn’t respond to her new drug cocktail (don’t forget, she gets insulin every morning too) then it’s unlikely that a dental will fix the problem and she’ll have weeks or months of relatively pain free drain circling.
Then after Zoe’s appointment I went to pick up more syringes for her and also a scrip for Dave. SO HELP ME DOG, I was only in there for five minutes and I left the windows open. Seriously. I looked at my watch. But when I came out Zoe was panting, mouth open, and looked distressed and I freaked out, I just freaked out, and of course shut the windows and turned on the a/c and let her out of that hot little cage. And she paced around a little and settled down in the back. And she is so old and slow moving and she was still occasionally doing those scary open mouthed pants that I really didn’t think I should put her back in the cage and I didn’t think she was in much danger of crawling under my foot pedals in a hurry either.
I was sort of right. She didn’t crawl under my foot pedals, but she did kind of explore the car while making her sad distressed “I don’t like being in the car” chirps. And then she climbed up on her carrier with her hind legs braced on the car seat and I was like, “aw, are you riding? Are you checking out where we’re going, Zoe? Are you gonna be my navigatress?” and other stupid shit. And then a minute later I was like, “sniff, sniff” and then a minute after that I had pulled over to investigate the strange and increasingly strong odor in the car and I was yelling, “Are you pissing, Zoe?”. I got out and raced over to grab Zoe from the passenger seat because at this point I was like, you’ll piss on the ground, godammit, and in fact she had finished pissing all down the front of the passenger seat but I was rewarded with a couple of wet plops as fecal matter hit the ground (thank god it didn’t get my car upholstery on the way down. But hey, at least the x-rays were right about the stool!)
And I put Zoe back in her carrier (won’t make that mistake again!) and drove home and had the aforementioned drink and poured most of a bottle of Nature’s Miracle onto the car and I can’t even be mad at Zoe, really. I should NOT have left her in the car, even for five minutes with the windows down, and I should have waited until she was clearly feeling better and then put her back in her carrier instead of trying to drive with her roaming around. Poor thing has had a rough afternoon, so I gave her some food and some love when we got home and now she seems to be resting happily enough.
and now I need to get some work stuff done so I can get to what came out of the meeting in a timely fashion, and I also need to cook dinner. I think I also need a robot slave to do my bidding, since I don't feel much like cooking or working.