The alarm went off shortly after five this morning. Except it wasn't the alarm- it was a vivid dream, over-efficient in the sound department. Indignant, I tried without success to go back to sleep.
Dag
Nabbit!
Whippersnapper didn't want to go back to the vets, understandably; but I had to show the vet that I could inject him with insulin, so we went at the crack of dawn in spite of his loud protestations, and a small pot of insulin has joined the wrinkled old ginger root and the empty egg-compartment in the fridge door.
I bowled down to Brighton, getting there in record time, and took Offrprog One for Tapas before helping her to move a couple of heavy boxes of clothes and books into a warm, dry, tiny room that only has room for half her stuff. She is disorientated, and I hope a night's rest in a better room will help.
I bought some pots of pansies on the way back, in a effort to prompt the onset of spring, and now I'm going to sit with my guitar ad try to join some words with some chords via a melody, because it's Song Circle tomorrow and I haven't done my song yet.
Cheerio!
1 comment:
Hi Helen - I sympathise about the diabetic cat, my 18-yr-old cat has had this for 2 years now, the vets are amazed at how well she is doing. I have to inject her twice a day and feed her special food. It's not as expensive as they warned me, but it is very tying, we've had only one night away in the 2 yrs! Wishing your moggie well x
Post a Comment