I’m Just Going to Cry a Little Bit

Ugh, people! The stupid ass cat. It’s kind of bad. She’s, oh, you know, missing the pad from the back of her fucking leg. Please look to the right. See the thing that says “wrist”? That is gone. Gone gone gone.

And, instead? In broad daylight, when you move the hair out of the way? You can see she has a huge fucking tear in her skin. Which has got to hurt like balls, right?

Okay, so I got home before 5:30 when the vet is supposed to close? But no one was answering. So, god, you know. I just don’t even fucking know. She’s not bleeding and nothing appears to be pussy or infected. So, if I can avoid a trip to the emergency clinic, I’m going to try to avoid a trip to the emergency clinic, you know?

But man, I feel like a total choad for not noticing it this morning. But what could I have done? I guess I could have cancelled my three o’clock.

Please don’t die, little kitty.

But she’s eating fine and she’s up on things and she’s very affectionate.

I just don’t… god damn it.

From here on out, I’m only having robot pets.

Diagnosing Cats

The new kitty came in this morning limping. But it wasn’t clear which leg she was attempting to keep off the ground. Then I figured out it was her front right paw. I looked at it. Seemed fine. Squeezed it to see if all bones were in place, seemed fine. Felt up the leg, everything seemed fine. And she didn’t squeak or try to bite me when I was touching her.

But now she’s staring at the corner of the door frame between her and the kitchen. Just sitting there staring at it, like it’s going to impart some wisdom.

Ha, oh wait! Cat drama! She might only be pretending to stare at the door frame when really she is watching the orange cat, who I presume is up to no good.

Still, I’ll have to keep an eye on this paw situation.

No, she is definitely just weirdly staring at nothing.

I thin she’s listening to something. I think she’s got her head turned in the optimum way to hear something, so it just looks like she’s staring at nothing.

Anyway, it was beautiful again on our walk. And Mrs. Wigglebottom and I were both excited to see that someone else had been in the AT&T yard, as evidenced by their tracks in the dew. Mrs. W. had to sniff and I just gloated about how pioneery I felt being able to pick out tracks.

But let’s be honest. I would not have had an easy life as a pioneer. I assume I would have had the prejudices of the age, so I’m not making some claim that I would have been all “What we’re doing to the people who live here is wrong!” (though I hope). I’m just saying, I would have been at the back of the wagon train complaining about how hot it was and throwing up and having panic attacks whenever we had to walk any place where my footing was less than sure.  And then I’d have been all “You want me to sweep a dirt floor? Um, it’s dirt.”

And I’m not sure there’s much to tracking when the grass is wet. But still, for a second, I felt cool.

Ugh. The cat is still limping. But no worrying about it until I get home. With cats, unless they’re bleeding or seizing, you have to give them time to work this shit out themselves.