I could write volumes about the challenging week I’ve just had, but I’m pretty sure nobody gives a shit, so here are just the highlights…
Saturday – Mr. Kewlstuff finds a pitifully small, half frozen kitten alongside the road and brings it home. Apparently no one has told him we are dog people. You can imagine the chaos that ensues when you bring a kitten into a household with three dogs, one of which has no manners.
Sunday – Greta, one of the nine year-old dogs, yells like she’s being hit with a hammer if anyone touches her head. She and the pup had played hard Saturday afternoon, so I figure she’s just getting too old for all the roughhousing, and I start her on baby aspirin.
I begin to reply to emails I’ve received from people responding to the ad I placed on our local CL about the kitten.
Monday – Greta looks and acts like a dog with a head injury. By 8 am we’re on the phone with the vet. After a preliminary exam, he decides to keep her for further evaluation.
Then my mother calls. I’m pacing from room to room while talking to her when I realize I hear the pup running, full speed, up and down the hallway to my office. She’s snatched the tablecloth off of the dining room table and is running with it flying behind her like Superman’s cape. I am not amused.
The vet calls. He knocked Greta out, ran blood work, xrayed her head and checked her teeth. $300 later and there’s still no explanation for the pain she’s in. He gave her a shot of cortisone, in case there’s some undetected inflammation, and sends her home with a precautionary antibiotic and not one, but two different pain pills.
My parents both had appointments for eye exams and needed a driver, which is why my mother called earlier. My Dad comes out from his exam with a referral to a retina specialist, whose office is 40 minutes away. They schedule the appointment for Wednesday afternoon.
I continue to weed through emails about the kitten. So far nobody has asked the right questions.
Tuesday – Greta’s now refusing to walk. Mr. Kewlstuff is carrying the 66 pound dog in and out of the house, because thankfully, she still remembers she’s housebroken. When she was spayed, she had a difficult time with the anesthesia, so I figure it’s the same deal and we’ll give it another 24 hours. Trying to keep the pup away from her is a full time job.
I finally get an email from someone who is serious about giving the kitten a permanent home.
Wednesday – We slept for what seemed to be 20 mins all night. I had to keep getting up to comfort Greta, who was whining on and off, but, by morning, her eyes look better and she’s standing on her own.
The kitten goes home with its new owner and I’m left wondering if a) I’m really as good at judging a persons character as I think I am or b) this woman has a hungry python at home.
I won’t bore you with the details, but my father’s 3:30pm appointment with the retina specialist was five freaking hours long. All I’d eaten all day was a bowl of cereal and a handful of raw almonds. I’m quite certain I could have eaten one of my own fingers if we had been there another five minutes.
Thursday – Greta greeted me at the bedroom door when I got up, like nothing had ever happened.
After running a couple of errands I came home and changed into sweat pants and a thermal Henley. It was a cool, rainy day and my curly hair was getting bigger by the minute, so I clipped most of it up on the back of my head. I threw the ingredients for homemade soup into a pot, shut off the phone, turned on the music and planned on doing ab-SO-lutely nothing the rest of the day…
…when I hear a knock at my locked office door. The dogs never barked, so I assumed Mr. Kewlstuff had accidentally locked himself out again. I whipped the door open and, to my horror, there stood a client of mine. To his credit, he never raised an eyebrow at my appearance, although he did apologize twice for showing up unannounced.
Friday – It’s past noon, and so far the day has been uneventful. I’m guessing the universe has had its fun with me and is now looking for someone else to focus on. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
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This is always such an odd time of year.
