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Yes, I’ve been a bit quiet for the last few days. I’ve been having a tough time.
Basically, 2020 can fuck right off, and I want to move to 2021 without any delays.
First Patrick died (see the entry on that), then I have a flood into my kitchen from the flat above. On the same day as that happened, unconnectedly my fridge-freezer dies the death of all electric objects. Then the kitty costs me £150 in vets bills.
A new fridge-freezer has been bought and delivered, which is fine, but it’s not as nice as the one it’s replaced. I couldn’t afford such a good one this time, and I’m looking at the new one a bit suspiciously. It also has blue lighting inside, which makes me go ‘tilt’, as I can see no good reason for a fridge to be lit up in blue.
The story about the kitty, is that on Friday I had chicken Kiev for my tea. Real chicken Kiev comes with a bone. I put my empty plate aside when I’d finished, and watched a couple of TV programmes, and then turned the TV off and fell asleep. When I woke up the bone from the Kiev had gone.
I looked around the flat and couldn’t find it. Not anywhere. The logical answer was that it was inside the cat, and I’ve always understood that a cat eating cooked bones is a veterinary emergency. At this stage it was midnight. I rang the 24 hours vet hospital and they said bring her in, so I packed her into her travelling basket and took her to the vet hospital. I was told by them that they couldn’t feel anything, but I was to watch her for the next 48-72 hours and if she was being sick or not pooping I was to bring her back. OK. Cost for this advice, £150. It was midnight, but still, ouch.
Comforted, I took Smokey home in her basket. I let her out when we got back to the flat and then next thing you know?
I stood on the bone, which was hidden in the pattern of the carpet.
Then I said words, many of them beginning with ‘f’.
I love my cat, but I’m currently addressing her as ‘expensive hobby’.
Basically, 2020 can fuck right off, and I want to move to 2021 without any delays.
First Patrick died (see the entry on that), then I have a flood into my kitchen from the flat above. On the same day as that happened, unconnectedly my fridge-freezer dies the death of all electric objects. Then the kitty costs me £150 in vets bills.
A new fridge-freezer has been bought and delivered, which is fine, but it’s not as nice as the one it’s replaced. I couldn’t afford such a good one this time, and I’m looking at the new one a bit suspiciously. It also has blue lighting inside, which makes me go ‘tilt’, as I can see no good reason for a fridge to be lit up in blue.
The story about the kitty, is that on Friday I had chicken Kiev for my tea. Real chicken Kiev comes with a bone. I put my empty plate aside when I’d finished, and watched a couple of TV programmes, and then turned the TV off and fell asleep. When I woke up the bone from the Kiev had gone.
I looked around the flat and couldn’t find it. Not anywhere. The logical answer was that it was inside the cat, and I’ve always understood that a cat eating cooked bones is a veterinary emergency. At this stage it was midnight. I rang the 24 hours vet hospital and they said bring her in, so I packed her into her travelling basket and took her to the vet hospital. I was told by them that they couldn’t feel anything, but I was to watch her for the next 48-72 hours and if she was being sick or not pooping I was to bring her back. OK. Cost for this advice, £150. It was midnight, but still, ouch.
Comforted, I took Smokey home in her basket. I let her out when we got back to the flat and then next thing you know?
I stood on the bone, which was hidden in the pattern of the carpet.
Then I said words, many of them beginning with ‘f’.
I love my cat, but I’m currently addressing her as ‘expensive hobby’.
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(Always good to hear that a kitty is OK, though.)
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