So...I need to elaborate on the whole veterinary crisis in the household. Saturday, March 19th: Tigra (the cat) has bloody looking pee. Try to call vet and con my way out of an office visit by insisting she has a bladder infection and begging for a phone prescription. Attempt fails. Tell Prince Charming I have to get to work and pawn the office trip off on him. Prince Charming heads to vet's office with feral cat and 3 year old in tow. And the vet diagnoses Tigra with...a bladder infection. Pay tab and pay off back tab from the previous household veterinary crisis (probably less than 6 months ago, but it hurts too badly to actually put a date to it right now). Buy fancy new cat food that the vet recommends to prevent recurrence. Of course it is also 2.5x the price of the pet store cat food I've been feeding the felines...and it's only available at the vet's office, which is inevitably going to cause a problem when my schedule doesn't want me to make it back to town in time to pick up cat food before the vet's office closes. But hey, who can put a price on their pets?. I get all motivated to promote pet health and well-being in my home and make Scout the appointment to get neutered that I've been putting off for months. Promise Prince Charming an uninterrupted evening of television if he drops Scout off on his way to work. Thursday, March 24th: Scout gets dropped off. Friday, March 25th: I run out of excuses to avoid the vet and go pick Scout up (another 112 bucks). Saturday, March 26th: Check Scout's incision and discover that the stitches are gone. Actually if I'm going to be honest, I noticed that the stitches were gone as I was going to sleep Friday night, but I reasoned that since the wound wasn't gaping open and he was sleeping so soundly I should sleep too and deal with it in the morning. So, Saturday: back to vet; Scout leaves with staples and a fancy new no-lick collar. I leave 36 bucks poorer. I also feel the need to add that the vet tech who returned my boy to me on Friday claimed he hadn't been licking and probably wouldn't need a collar, but to call if he started. Monday, March 28th: take pity on the dog and allow him to eat his breakfast collar free. Out come the staples. Back to vet. Extra staples and condescending lecture from vet who obviously feels he is dealing with some seriously irresponsible pet owners. No charge this time; buy three get the fourth one free, I guess. As we are leaving, Prince Charming nervously asks me, "Is there a Pet Protective Service like there is for children?" And that brings us to tonight, when Tigra wanders up to me and lets me know that we still have a problem. I call the vet and beg for mercy, but the evil vet tech that answers is unsympathetic to my plight. In the morning, it's off to the vet's office for Tigra and I.
In other news... I managed to go through the kiddo's room and get rid of old toys, clothes that she's grown out of, and the empty fish tank that has been sitting on her dresser. The fish died more than three months ago. I didn't know how to break it to her, and I didn't particularly feel up for another try with a beta so I dumped the fish and the water down the toilet while she was sleeping. I filled the tank back up and put it back on her dresser. The next day she asks why her fish is hiding in the castle. I tell her he is probably tired. It never came up again. Today I figured I could just empty out the tank and put it away without her noticing. I was wrong.
"Mommy, what are you doing to my fish?"
"Oh baby, I'm emptying the icky water out of the tank."
"Where is the fish, Mommy?"
"...I guess he swam away."
"Where did he go?"
"Maybe he wanted to live in the river."
"Can you get him back for me, Mommy?"
"No kiddo, I don't think we can catch him."
"Probably my Daddy can catch him. Daddy will do it. Sure he will."
Since my daughter is already very aware of death due to her brother's passing, I just didn't have the heart to break it to her about the fish. But in hindsight, her obliviousness to the fish's disappearance kind of indicates that a little honesty probably wouldn't have traumatized her.
Nothing else to report except that I did conquer the laundry pile and I managed not to get dressed or leave the house all day long. Also, I sincerely dislike my boss. Tomorrow's post: tales from the veterinary office (again). Sorry.
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