The 6th of May.
Last night, I had a dilemma about which of my new books to read. That’s fixed, as I have spent my day reading The Girl on the Train. I figured that I could get it done in a day and I was correct – I sat in the kitten room all afternoon while they ran around, until Freya started eating the cable ties on the cage and I had to put them back in or I worried she’d hurt herself.
This morning I mainly lounged around in my pyjamas, wrote up a blog post, and I rang Dr. Robinson’s secretary but had to leave a message as she wasn’t there. When she rang back, I explained what had been going on and that I would really like to see Dr. Robinson before my appointment in January. The first time she could offer me was in September which will not do, but she can’t overbook a clinic. However, she has given me the number of the clinical nurse specialist who I can ring on Monday and she can add me to a clinic so I feel happier about that.
That is all, really! I just read all afternoon for hours, which I rarely do anymore. I used to read so much more when I was younger, devoured books when I was in hospital, but stopped for a long time. It’s good to get back to books.
The 7th of May.
Christ, my back canes. We’re going to Wales on Thursday and I don’t even want to think about how it’s going feel after three hours in the car.
My day did not go as planned. I was informed last night about a chap who was interested in one or two of the kittens, so I gave him a call this morning and we arranged for him to come round to look at them this evening as I was going to be out this afternoon.
Daddy and I were going to see Florence Foster Jenkins at half past two, but that got derailed. I went into the kitten room to let them run around for an hour before we went out. I’d been in there for forty minutes, and Frieda had gone to all three litter trays more than once, but not left anything in them. I rang Shaki who didn’t pick up, so I rang Jen, who said to keep an eye on her but as the rest of her behaviour was normal, she might just be practising. However, just after she hung up, Frieda left some blood in a tray and fortuitously, at that moment, Shaki rang me back. I told her and she happened to be 5 minutes away so she came round and we found more bits of blood in other trays. We decided to ring the vet, who told us to bring her in.
When we arrived, there was just us and a boy, about sixteen, with his dad and their Westie who was just lying in his bed, evidently unwell. The boy was in obvious distress, so I took over some tissues because he didn’t appear to have any. The dog’s name was Chipper, and his kidneys were packing in. I could sympathise, because that was Oscar’s problem. I just crouched by Chipper and stroked him while they talked. I think it helped? To talk about happier times. Then the vet came to take them through so I gave him another tissue and went back to Mommy, Shaki and Frieda. We talked a bit about the chap coming later, and it wasn’t long before we were called in and the two guys came out, both fighting back tears. Losing a pet is the worst.
Not sure what’s the matter with Frieda. Cystitis or colitis but we can’t tell and can’t treat both. The thermometer didn’t have any blood on but that’s not confirmation. She’s had a 48 hour antibiotic injection and another worming tablet, and she’s been super sleepy all afternoon. Since I was back early, I rang the potential adopter to see if he wanted to come early, so they did. Just as we had a very heavy, thundery shower. He and his two sons came, and Frieda and Freya were conked out on my lap. Freddie played around, and Freya allowed them to pick her up, she even climbed up onto the older boy’s shoulder. They really want lap cats, and I think they’re going to take both girls. When Frieda is better.