It is eligible to be nominated for either the Nebula or the Hugo or both. Though, please, nominate me before you read those other stories, because some of them are A-MAZ-ING and I don’t want “Frank” to look boring by comparison.
I forgot yesterday that I wanted to link to this marvelous piece over at The Hairpin about a Tarot Card reading. So, I’m doing it today.
The vet said Mrs. Wigglebottom was “very good” and that her stress about being at the vet was “quite low.” Which we could tell, because, unlike trips to our old vet, it didn’t involve listening to her cry and bark for an hour straight no matter where she was in the building.
I think they liked her.
Which is such a relief. Seriously. I about threw up at the bill, but honestly, it’s worth it for her to go to a vet she likes and who likes her.
I’m still waiting on the results of the blood test, which we’re hoping will shed some light on why she’s having these bouts of terrible pooping, but the ear thing is just a yeast infection, easily cleared up with drops.
Ugh. Thank goodness.
Now, let’s hope some cheap news from the blood test.
We’re taking the dog to the vet here in a little bit. I am nervous as heck about it. I just want to find a vet that doesn’t hate her and who she doesn’t hate. We’ll just coast through her golden years and then I can feel okay about taking her to that vet to be put down, when the time comes.
The amount of anxiety I have about having to take her to people who hate her to kill her is… ugh… a lot.
And it’s not like she’s in steep decline or anything. Yes, she pooped the Butcher’s bed Sunday night. Which is hilarious, but not a good sign. But she’s not lolling around in obvious discomfort. She’s still playful and bright eyed and wants to walk and walk some more in the mornings.
But we’re over the top of the hill, you know? And there are signs that the path down is steep and not smooth.
As I was sitting here typing this, the Butcher’s door just creaked open. Cre–aack. Creak. I looked over and watched it swing away. Then it stopped moving. Then I freaked the fuck out on Twitter. Then it did it again.
You know the Ghost Hunters would be all “Was that you who opened that door?” and investigating and stuff. The Ghost Adventures dudes would be all “Dude!” “Bro!” “Dude, bro, we can tell dust did not cause that.” I’m freaking out on the internet. Which is why I don’t have a TV show, I’d guess.
Anyway, yes, dog and vet. Let’s hope it goes well and doesn’t cost me an arm and a leg.