I've reviewed my days in search of blogworthy events and indeed I have found none; and so I will blog mundanely about the mundane events that currently occupy my time which include, but are not limited to, watching kitten grow and learn, dog/cat sitting for my dad, transcription work, organizing my closet, reading The Three Musketeers and completing random shifts at work. Gosh, when I put it all down like that it sounds quite boring. I must assure you, gentle readers, that I am full of excitement and vigor!

Kitten had another scary episode the other day. Upon observing her slip into a semi-conscious state wherein she panted, drooled and twitched I researched, panicked, on the net and confirmed my suspicions. Her symptoms matched those that I described in the previous blog simply as "a very good impression of a kitten that is going to die soon," only they were much more severe. After reviewing a few websites, I concluded she was simply hypoglycemic, and so took the internet's advice and rubbed maple syrup on her gums (didn't have "Karo" syrup, which I guess is the stuff of choice for hypoglycemic kittens. I'd say they don't have much of a choice. She's lucky it wasn't "Lite" syrup, or raspberry flavored, or something similarly horrid). When I took her to the E-vet I was told that this was a wise move, and it did the trick.

E-vet stands for either expensive vet or emergency vet; one and the same. Long story short, the milk we've been giving her is not getting her the right sort of nutrients, or enough of them, and even though I'm supplementing it with dry/softened kitten food, she's not getting enough caloric intake. Thus the hypoglycemia. Well maybe if she'd calm down we wouldn't have this problem!

Obviously, this kitten is becoming very expensive. Here's where the transcription comes in. Typing typing typing all day lets me spend time with Kitten without making me feel like I'm wasting time (you know, wasting time just staring at her, cos she she's so flippin cute) because after all, I'm making money. She attacks my foot, which taps rhythmically on the dictaphone's foot pedal. The lines I've typed pay for the veterinarian instructions and follow ups.

I admit I was arrogant and selfish when I took this Kitten in; enjoying her cuteness and her fondness/need for me, because I wielded the great big bottle in the sky. I figured, I've handled kittens several times, I got this one in the bag. And here I'm doing it wrong, and got a decent slapintheface reality check when I had to tell the e-vet upon entering the facility "I think my kitten is going to die soon, please help." Gosh, if only you could have seen her. There isn't much more heartbreaking than a kitten that looks like its going to die, unless its a kitten that looks like its going to die and its your fault. I kept screwing up my face the whole ride there, fighting back tears because I couldn't help imagining the worst-something I do too often, I admit.

The last time we'd made the ride to the e-vet we left with a dead cat, James Bond Jr, whose still-warm limbs stuck out from its flip flopping body like knitting needles from a pile of yarn; like a deflated bagpipe. I don't think either of us have recovered from this, and the sting was worse when the vet tech, unknowingly, put us in the same room Bond breathed his last breath in on September 15. It was a treacherous trip that night to Meijer, at 1 in the morning, to buy shovels. I have never breathed this out loud...but when I laid him in the little grave we dug, he was still warm.

This is making me sad.

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I am going camping the next two weekends, and then a canoe trip for Floyd's berfday. I've often found tranquil woods more condusive to introspective writing than any solid reading, and so I am bringing along the latest dollar store notebook to fill up with one liners and quips, dates to remember and "deep" thoughts. Or maybe I'll just play with fireworks and magnesium. Stranger things have happened.