Feels like ages since I had a day of the Kings… there’s singing, and there’s Caleb Followill.
The trouble is that I can’t do much else when I’ve got the Kings of Leon on, because I feel kind of manipulated into enjoying it as much as possible. It’s the same with the Killers. I thought, for instance, that I could keep writing this at the same time as listening to a KOL mix, but no. I cannot. Too distracting!
It’s been a vet-kind of a week this week. There are weeks that go like that. None of mine, really, apart from picking up medicines and food. Tobby will have been here eight months tomorrow, which is seven and a half months longer than I thought he would be. He’s still on special muscle-building food, but to be honest, apart from the smell, the only reason I keep him on it is that it’s good quality. Not the smell of the food, by the way, but the smells that emanate from his rear. When I put him on different dog food, it’s a whole stinky story that you don’t need to hear. He still has metacam more days than not, though his wobbles come and go.
I guess it shows what a small town place I live in – when I went to pick up his food, the vet receptionist pointed out the refuge calendars on sale. I thought she’d recognised my coat and the logo on it, and was showing her support. I smiled. “I did the photographs,” I said (I don’t know why I said that, since I did the whole thing except for the wonderful printing!) and she said, “I know!” and smiled. That was quite weird. In what conversation does it come up? I just don’t know. Not to mention I’m on “bisous” terms with the other vet I mainly use – you’d think I spent a lot of money there or something.
Whilst it was Tobby’s check-up on Thursday and then the turn of two of my latest foster kitties on Friday, I popped by to get dog food on Saturday and today I’ve got to take two dogs for a passport check. Tomorrow it’s vaccinations and check-ups for my dad’s dog. That’s a lot of time hanging around in waiting rooms with stressed-out dogs and cats. Hopefully I won’t be back there this week with the two kitties. I woke up yesterday and thought one was a gonner for sure – he wasn’t moving or crying. He sat in a towel on my knee on a hot-water bottle for a couple of hours and managed to get 5ml of milk into his system – from there, a little of his fight came back. They’re both on pills six times a day, and they’re dirty and sad and sweet. I’ve my fingers crossed that they thrive. At four weeks, it shouldn’t be so touch-and-go. Still, they’ve stopped howling all the time and I can only guess the medicines for settling their stomachs is working. It’s a shit start to life when you have been left in a plastic bag like the trash when your eyes are barely open.
All the vet visits are generally productive and I don’t mind doing them. What’s not productive is the number of sagas I’ve been subjected to of late. Serious to God, I’m stopping answering my phone. I pick it up and someone unleashes an almighty ‘he-said-she-said’ tale upon me. In fact, this week, I was trying to help someone out and ended up making a phone call to a woman in Hungary, who gave me a full-on and deeply unnecessary lecture about the whys and wherefores of British Customs regulations and the sorry state of affairs regarding compulsory vaccinations in France. Needless to say, it didn’t end well. Next year is the year of “I don’t have to justify myself to you” and the year I screen all calls through a “Your call will be connected shortly. Please enter your credit card number before proceeding. All calls will be charged at 5 euros a minute.”
That should sort the wheat from the chaff.
Thankfully, my to-do list is back under control a little, and once I’ve sorted out a couple of adoptions on Tuesday (and got through a day full of lessons on Wednesday and Thursday), by 8pm Thursday night, I shall be breathing a little easier. Next Saturday, I’m running a stand at a local charity event and then – heaven help us all – the Mother arrives for a visit next week. It’s quite a lot less crazy than December last year where I knitted 31 baubles, let me tell you.