I had one patient go south about ten o'clock. I had another call late in the day because of a prescription screwup. I got three admissions in an hour.
But when I got home, Max leapt up from his spot behind the fence and greeted me at the back door. We spent half an hour on the floor of the kitchen discussing our days. He put his enormous paw over my hand (his paw, toe-tip to dewclaw, is as long as my hand from fingertip to wrist) and gazed at me soulfully, making subterranean rrowling noises when I got to the good parts. Then he told me about his day, via snifflings and snufflings and lots of grooming my arms.
We traded ear-scratches and belly-rubs and chin-licks, and then I checked my email. I found a reply to a piece of fanmail I sent another blogger. It was funny and kind and encouraging. I was a total fangirl before, but now I'm a double-total fangirl.
The cat is being reasonable. Given that she takes disapproval of everything to a whole new level, this is a good thing.
It has been a good day.