unknownfate: (cat says 'riiiiight')
Back at the vet with Froud. Her face cancer is back and now she’s gotta go in every day this week for fluids. And I’ve gotta pay for it, which makes my stomach hurt a little. Not as bad as her face hurts, probably. Also, I wrote a Pacific Rim fic for the other day.

Screech!

Feb. 26th, 2015 03:16 pm
unknownfate: (cat says 'riiiiight')
My cat’s dewclaws have grown in a full circle into her toe pads!

Gah! She’s been walking kind of funny, but she’s old and stiff so I didn’t think too much of it, but they were growing right back into the pad! And they were too long to pull out so I had to cut through the middle and when I pulled the end pieces out, blood and gunk came out and now she has holes in both her toe pads, and I just feel horrible that it got that bad and I never noticed.

It’s so gross! But I cleaned em out with q-tips and she’s licking them, so hopefully they’ll get better soon because there’s more high pitched vowel sounds like the ones I’ve been making on the way.
unknownfate: (cat says 'riiiiight')
Alas, poor mouse didn't make it. I found his crumpled body, and that of one of his friends on my pile of clean towels. They both had their heads so I suspect the boy. I named them Yorick and Horatio and gave them a back porch funeral. (Picked them up with a paper towel and flung them off the porch into the back yard)

But I did get a Pacific Rim fix written over at [livejournal.com profile] 31_days. So it wasn't all dead mice and Shakespeare.
unknownfate: (cat says 'riiiiight')
Last night I had seen something move across the living room floor out of the corner of my eye. I figured it was a spider trying to get to cover before a cat saw it. But this morning in the kitchen, I saw it again. It is not a large spider. It is a tiny little mouse. These are the words I heard myself saying as we stared at each other:

Me: "Oh no. Oh nonono. You can't be here. You can't! You don't know what will happen! You don't know what they'll DO!"

I looked around to make sure the cats hadn't heard me and continued.

Also me: "The black and white one looks like an elderly duchess with one too many valium, but she will eat your head! EAT. Your HEAD. And leave the body for me to clean up and/or step on with my bare feet in the dark! Sob! It's happened before! And, and the stripy one? Oh man! He's like Jack Torrance and Norman Bates and Sweeney Todd all in one! It won't be quick. It will last the rest of your life. You have to go. Get out of here. Save yourself, mousie. You have to run! Run for your life!"

And then the mouse ran under the dishwasher and I went to work with the knowledge that I had done all I could. I haven't seen any little battered or headless bodies since I got home, so maybe he took my advice.

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