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Back to the vet

November 2, 2018

Up at 9:30 (best in a long time) to make sure I was ready to get to the vet by 11am. This time the trip involved Stella and was very happily not pre-burial.


I noticed that she’d started limping a few weeks ago (whilst completely failing to notice Roxie’s rapid deterioration), but I thought she might have been in a fight with the dreaded Penguin (the nasty local cat, not the Antarctic bird) and that it would heal. It hasn’t and today I took her to the vet. Turns out she had a badly ingrown toenail with a new nail growing in over it. Apparently this is not uncommon. Both new and old nails were yanked out and she was given a shot of antibiotics. All should be well within a couple of days.

The vet recommended I keep her in her carrier for a couple of hours after I got home, so she won’t bleed all over the furniture. Stuck a bowl of her favourite food in the cage with her, but it isn’t much of a distraction. As I write she is scratching at the cage and meowing pitifully.

Short break while I decide I don’t care if she bleeds on the furniture and let her out. Not surprisingly she went straight under the bed.

Thanks to my friend Jean, who knows how broke I am at the moment, the local cat charity is paying the vet bill. (Oh, Stella’s just come out from under the bed for a pat, so I guess she’s forgiving me.)

I am very grateful. I also feel a bit guilty about accepting this financial assistance. Yes, it’s true, I am in the shit financially at the moment, but thanks to a piece of work I did for a friend in the UK, I do have some money in my account there. And I’m spending it rather stupidly.

As noted yesterday, I have a landmark birthday coming up next week and I decided, quite irresponsibly, to have a party at the local pub. When I told them how many people I thought might likely attend they told me they’d have to close the pub to the public that night, at a cost to me of $300. Three hundred dollars?!? Think of what I could do with $300! (Paying a vet bill being just one possibility.) But I’m going ahead anyway, spending money I shouldn’t to celebrate myself. I’m not quite sure what that says about me. Nor do I particularly want to know.

The party will, I hope, be worth it, but even more importantly, my friend Catherine will be here. Aside from the generally delightful prospect of seeing her, her visit means there is the possibility of a few birthday back tickles for me. As previously noted, Catherine is very good at these.

Last year for my birthday my friend Irmani very kindly sent me a case of sauvignon blanc. Twelve bottles to be hoarded for special occasions only. There is one bottle left, which I am saving for Catherine’s arrival next week. I will also spend money I don’t have on a bottle of prosecco with which to greet her.

I’ve already spent money I don’t have this week on a bottle of Frangelico. This purchase wasn’t frivolous. It was a necessity. When the clocks change and it starts to be dark at five o’clock for months, when the rain and snow of winter start to fall, I have to have a Frangelico hot chocolate as my segue from daylight to the long night ahead. Still, that $30 spent of a bottle of Frangelico at the beginning of the month when there is some money in the bank will not miraculously reappear in my account at the end of the month when the money is gone. Nor will the $20 I am going to spend on that bottle of prosecco. So more belt tightening than usual will be required at the end of them month.

Never mind. I’ll live. Somehow.

From → Black dog diary

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