Monday, October 20, 2003

 
I mentioned a little bit below there that we have two new cats. They're great and we love them both, of course. We got them at a local no-kill shelter that takes in unwanted and found cats, and those that just can't stay with their people any longer, and puts those that can be adopted in good homes and keeps those that can't until the end of their natural feline days. This is, of course, most admirable, and often results in wonderful placements like the two boys we ended up with - we specifically wanted two male cats who get along well together, were past kittenhood, and who were neutered but still had their claws (so they could go outside, if they were supervised). We didn't care about looks, or names, for that matter, since you generally end up with whatever name a cat already has when you adopt an older one. So, we wound up with Depot (found behind a Home Depot, and brought into the shelter) and Elvis (born to a family with too many cats, and who "sang" frequently when he first arrived) and for a month, we just couldn't have been happier - they bonded quite quickly with us, which cats are wont to do when they are fed and watered regularly.

It came as a bit of a jolt, then, when we found, after their first trip to our own vet, that Depot had ringworm (which, I learned, is not caused by a worm or other parasite, but is in fact a fungal disease spread by spores - here's a .pdf file of a nice paper on the subject, which is noteworthy in that Depot's ear did in fact look almost exactly like the cat's in the picture).

Since the two of them are always wrestling around, and the spores are both hardy and fairly contagious, it was almost certain that Elvis was infected too, so this past weekend both poor kitties got confined to one room in the house while we vacuumed and swabbed the entire rest of the house with bleach. They didn't like that at all, but they really weren't happy with us this morning. The recommended treatment was four weekly applications of lime/sulfur dip, to kill the fungus, and Depot at least would need to be sedated for the process (they don't particularly like the dip, especially when they need to have their head shaved to make sure it's applied well enough). So, after a night of fasting, they both got packed into cat carriers and taken to the vet this morning. In the end, they both got sedated, (Elvis didn't particularly cotton to the dip, either), so now we've got two groggy, unhappy cats in the quarantine room (Depot has some Siamese in him, although otherwise he's a big, orange and white cat, so with his head shaved he looks a lot like a furry, four-legged vulture).

Needless to say, this has been a Bad Thing. Somehow, though, we will all, cats and humans alike, get through this. That's what we do, you know.

Besides, at the very least, the succession of circumstances resulted in our receiving the following Official Instructions, which I feel are important enough to repeat (almost) verbatim:

On the day of sedation we advise the following. If sedation was yesterday, then you can resume normal feeding.

(1) Withold feeding Elvis tonight. Offer small amounts of water. Feed Elvis a small bland meal tomorrow.

(2) Elvis may be very groggy initially at home. The eyes may look sad and the gait wobbly for 24 to 48 hours. Do not allow Elvis to negotiate stairs or walk outside alone. . . . Drooling may also be seen.


If anyone reading this, now or in the future, ever develops time travel, please contact me for the original of these Instructions, so that they may be brought to the Memphis Mafia, circa 1975. If only they had known then what we know now . . .

Friday, October 17, 2003

 
Dear Red Sox Nation:

I am sorry. It was all my fault. You see, right about the time the Sox went up 5 to 2, an unbidden thought entered my head: it struck me that I should go get my old cowboy hat and clean it off so that I could wear it into work today to celebrate their victory. I knew my secretary - sorry, administrative assistant - would get a huge kick out of that, since she'd been following the series so closely and had got all caught up in the whole "cowboy up" thing and I had been deliberately downplaying that aspect.

I didn't act on the thought - that is, I didn't actually go and get the damn hat - but the damage had been done: yes, I had presumed a Red Sox victory before the fact. For that lapse of judgment and decorum, I realized that I had surely condemned myself and the team to another disappointment.

Again, I'm sorry. I won't do it again.

Wednesday, October 15, 2003

 
I still want to update semi-regularly, but I'm just too fucking busy (now, where have I heard that phrase lately?) to do so with any regularity or even integrity, so I'm just going to direct-link to a nice stolen picture from stavrosthewonderchicken:



There. Go read his stuff if you want real commentary and insight, why don'cha. It's good.

Thursday, October 09, 2003

 
It�s About Fucking Time

You only think you know what that sentence means. You see, it all depends on the question that was asked just before it:

"What does it mean when the �bwomp-bwomp� music starts up in the porn movie?"

"What's the story with that one old Star Trek episode where Spock goes all crazy and ends up in a duel with Kirk on Vulcan?"

"What was it that the Thing used to say when he started to get tired of 'clobberin' time'?"

- and finally -

"What does the FCC now say about cursing on television?"

(via this MeFi thread, of course).

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