So, Pickles is sickie.
Well, okay, not quite that sickie. My curliest, babiest cat has a urinary tract infection. He was up all last night mewing at each of our many litter boxes, which, thanks to my mothering brain chemicals, made me start awake repeated. But, today we saw our amazing and always wonderful Dr. Schaubhut who was, as always, amazing and wonderful. He gave the baby an antibiotic and a homeopathic drop to take. Since it's his first infection like this, those should help, but the doc suggested the boy would do better without his beloved dry food. I'm not sure how Pickles will adapt, but I bet without his bowl of dry to visit every ten minutes he might lose some of his "density," if you've ever held him and know what I mean. His density is at a rest right now.
The boy seems to be doing a little better, but since he is so super shy and doesn't come out from under the bed for strangers, he gets to come with me to the beach this weekend. I think he'll enjoy it once we get there. And probably alot more if I remember that he has to go in his carrier butt first. I had to relearn that lesson this morning.
I've got matching ones of those on my décolletage, belly and--most incredibly ouchily--on the palm of my left hand. Amazingly those were all done through the shirt I was wearing, which is now just a shreddy mess of rags. Lesson learned. Tomorrow will be better for both of us.
The December 2015 Shot - Louis & Tracey
1 year ago