Feb. 1st, 2011

wheelieterp: Head shot of me: black and white. Shaved head. Black, full goatee. Big toothy smile. (Default)
It's been a while since I've posted. It's been even longer since I posted about a cat. Her Royal Highness, The Pirate Tranny Kitty Goddess, Afsoun: Bane Of Arachnid Kind and Harbinger of Podiatric Doom has left many absences with her passing, not the least of which is an absence of post-worthy stories.

Don't get me wrong; Sylvie is hilarious and also suffers from a deplorable excess of personality, but she's only a kitten. Barely 20 months old, in fact. Kitten stories are like baby stories: they're precious, yes, but they are also ubiquitous enough as to be only really worth recounting to those for whom it matters. Namely: family and close friends, only...PLEASE! Everyone who has ever had a kitten (or hell, even seen one on TV) has the same stories. Sylvie hasn't been around long enough to be interesting to a broader audience. She hasn't done anything noteworthy.


Until now.


I'll bet you're just dying to know what it is she chose as her coming-out stunt... Her Debut Yarn for the old blog...Well, ok, unless you've seen my Facebook for the last two days. If you have, you know already... But, whatever..

Sylvie has managed to break her leg.

Don't ask how. The explanation, to do it justice, requires audio/visual aides and schematic drawings...Suffice to say it was a freak accident that happened when The Ruling Redcub picked her up off the bed to give her belly a raspberry. A game that she loves more than almost anything... Oh.. except the red dot... She loves the red dot.. But I am digressing into kitten stories... And this story is sadly much more grown up.

So yeah... Broken back leg. And Sylvie, you may recall, was born with Manx Syndrome, which means she has some unique methods of locomotion that so far are proving incompatible with a cast. She is currently living in a towel-lined laundry basket in the middle of our King bed, between us. The Ruling Redcub is proving an amazing kitty nurse: fearless and calm and patient and all of the things that I am not, nor can be, even when I spend the whole commute home coaching myself on man-ing it up and taking care of the poor wounded little kitty... but then I try to pick her up and put her in her box and she cries and I freak out and the RRC has to rescue her from me or me from her or something.

This is all so hard. And too soon after Afsoun. I'm still mad at the Vet's office. Not the people (although, this substitute vet they have in the office this week had better watch his damn toes)... I'm mad at the place...When I pulled into the parking lot today to pick up the kitty from being re-splinted, I was shaking a little. (Her sedation wore off at 10:00pm last night. She got out of her first splint at 10:01. Not a lot of sleep happening around here. Which explains all of the asides.) The RRC and our neighbor have been shuttling Sylvie to the vet, as I haven't been able to be there until today... I have been off working. I may not be able to handle the down-in-the-trenches nursing care, but I can work and pay the mounting bills.

I hope.

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wheelieterp: Head shot of me: black and white. Shaved head. Black, full goatee. Big toothy smile. (Default)
WheelieTerp

February 2011

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