drama queen part deux

For all of you Abby-cat fans, I think there's good news.

Abby's eating and drinking so much less and the vet thinks we'll be able to control her diabetes just through diet. Yeehaw! I'm all for that. I'm glad she's going to be easy to care for. Coming from a farm, where cats disappeared and died from just things pretty constantly, it's hard to imagine giving a cat insulin and all the tests and costs involved. We'll still have take her in every half a year for a blood test but I think we both think that's okay. She would have just passed away if she was still on the farm but since I might have caught this really early, she'll have a bit more time ahead of her. Which is nice. Really nice. The prospect of putting one's pet down is difficult and it may be that it'll have to be chosen but for now, we get some more time with the Fluffer

and so does everyone else. 

drama queen

It's just one of those days. I came across wet dust rags on the pantry floor. Wha…..? The culprit?

Our little drama queen is either insisting that the nice cave-like covering of her litter box is impossible! she needs an OPEN litterbox OR the drama queen has a urinary tract infection. She's not one to pee outside the cozy confines of her litterbox.

The medical community both for humans and critters mocks us all. I'm supposed to retrieve a urine sample from the Fluffer. !?!??!?! I lock her in the bathroom, though before doing that, I have to pull everything out. Towels, rugs. Put in an empty litterbox, sans litter even. And leave her in there for seven hours. Starting at 8 AM till 3 PM when I take her to the vet. In the meanwhile, it is hoped that she will pee in the empty box or the floor. If she does pee on the floor, I have to syringe it up. !!! I begged a syringe off a Target pharmacist tech. I was so grateful for her generosity in giving me one because where the hell do you find syringes anyways?! But it doesn't end there, folks. I still need a fresh poo sample. The fresher, the better.

They mocks us. I tell you.

grape hyacinth on blue

after the last few busy days full of shopping (ugh) and seeing friends (yay!), I was able to set my props and enjoy most of the day at my new kitchen table. It's a bitty thing, only three feet by two foot but the kitchen is long and narrow and not big neither so it works. The table is old, from the 30's or 40's lets say and the top is metal with enamel over it. There's a bit to repair, where it looks like someone mistakenly placed a frying pan on it or something way too hot, but it's small and I'm pretty confident I can repair it. I heart this table and I have my good friend, Brit, to thank for helping me haul it home. It was a true flea market find (something I've heard talked about but rarely encounter) and I hope to visit the same sellers next month and perhaps pick up another piece of furniture. I'm a hopeless buyer of antiques and their painted antiques work for me! All the furniture they sold seemed good and solid and for excellent prices as well. Better prices than even the resale shops around here! This area is just far too expensive, I think.

I've enjoyed this gloomy day with my grape hyacinths (muscari if you really want), puzzled over a recent film adaptation of a Balzac novel, "The Duchess of Langeais" I viewed last night, read at a novel and generally just wrote away. Though not fiction. Not today. That's something I've got in the back of my head, sifting through. How much can a character be yourself? That's the genius of fiction though. There's no rules in that department. I think this time though…I made the main character do something too like me and for that, her voice may have hesitated and then slumped.

Tonight is PBS and Kate Beckingsdale in "Emma" and guess what? I can watch tv right from the kitchen table.