After this weekend I am henceforth going to demand that my vet rename the practice after one or both of my animals as I am now paying a good part of the staff salaries and all of the buildings utilities as well as a speed boat, two jet-skis, and a kayak.
Saturday morning I was obligated to take The Kitty to the vet so that the vet could be certain that the thyroid pills that are clearly working like they are supposed to, are working like they are supposed to. The vet could have just asked me, and thus saved me an office visit and his staff the stress of trying to get a blood draw from The Kitty. The Kitty could care less, it is all the same to him; He hates being stuffed into his crate, he hates the waiting room and he hates the staff - He in general hates everything all the time and he is while he is doing his hating is irrelevant to him - but for the staff at the vets office, it is traumatic.
When we walked into the waiting room we were faced with a crate of the cutest little baby kitties evah. The kitties were locked in the crate, The Kitty was in his travel bag, four feet from the cutest baby kitties evah and he still managed to chase the kittens from one side of their (large) crate to the other and cause the kitties to become visibly upset. From inside his bag, four feet away where they couldn’t even see him, he was completely terrorizing them. In comparison, Sunday afternoon, Dogger and I were outside on the lawn sitting under the tree. I had one arm petting on Dogger and the other hand occupied petting one of the feral cats. The two animals were maybe two feet apart and they were both completely calm and at ease with each other and we had a nice time. It was one of those times where you wish someone would wander by with a camera. It would have been a nice shot.
Saturday, after extracting a technicians arm from The Kitty’s maw. I dropped him off at home and went to yet visit to another health professional. My camera is ill and I go on vacation in a month. A sick camera simply will not do. I’m would go on vacation if I had to escape from an ICU to do it, but to go on vacation with a camera with the sniffles would be unthinkable. The camera store quickly diagnosed the problem and told me while they couldn’t fix it, I could send it back to the maker, but the repair would run me $300. I asked the camera store if they would take pity on me and just give me one or if failing that if they had anything in my price range with a two year interest free payment plan? The guy went to go check his stock - Which took about three years, a bit surprising because the store was the size of a broom closet - a broom closet full to the rafters with very pricey, very fancy , very high-end professional grade photographic equipment that made my little point-and-shoot camera look like a kids toy. The staff got points for not treating me like a kid or my camera like a toy.
I went home and took out my frustration on my lawn. I had mowed it Friday night - The quickest way to ruin an otherwise lovely evening is to decided to take advantage of the loveliness by mowing your yard. Resist the urge. On Saturday, I edged, I wacked weeds, I leaf blew, I watered and finally, I took advantage of the nice day and sat outside on my deck for the rest of the afternoon with a book and my dog.
My camera is sick, but not dead yet. Here is a picture of a bloom from my night bloomer
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