Random thoughts, inspired by this virus.

I just finished a lovely hour reading Can't Spell, DVM's blog. Contrary to her title, she can indeed spell, mostly. And the stories are definitely worth a look.

Which reminds me: one thing that people always say to me, when I start talking about critters (especially dogs), is "Why didn't you become a vet?" The answer is very simple: I can't stand to see an animal in pain or afraid. People don't bother me a bit, because people can mostly understand words--or, if they can't, because of a stroke or brain tumor or whatall, they still retain basic human understanding of things like touch and smiles and singing. Critters in pain flip me right the hell out. I have no clue what to do and react badly. 

Once, manymany years ago, Evvie-cat got her front leg stuck in the crack of a staircase and hung up on an old twenty-penny nail. I was in hysterics as I called the mobile vet (thank Frog for mobile vets!). Dr. Mobile came, dropped a towel over her head, unhooked The Flannelcat from the nail, shot her up with antibiotics and maybe a tetanus shot (I may be remembering that wrong; somebody please tell me if cats can get tetanus), and earned my undying gratitude for two minutes' work.

The point here is that I have no trouble at all dealing with a generalized tonic-clonic seizure, a bleeding arterial puncture (which is more like a fountain than a bleed), a patient who's fallen and is unconscious, a code, or even a traumatic amputation. One injured animal, though, would send me over the frigging edge.

*** *** *** *** ***

Speaking of vets, mine has a pet kangaroo that somebody abandoned at the clinic. 

Now, we're in Texas. Texas is a long way from Australia, which is where kangaroos are, as far as I know, from. I suppose you could import a kangaroo, but let's be serious: what would you then do with said kangaroo?

Apparently the kangaroo loves the vet and hates everybody else.

*** *** *** *** ***

I think I've come up with Nurse Jo's Perfect Formula for Surviving A Nasty Cold: Delsym (grape flavor is actually not so bad!) ibuprofen, Mucinex (plain, please; don't overdose on dextromethorphan or go with unnecessary decongestants), soup, and Vick's Vaporub.

A happy puppy and a plate of cheese sticks go a long way, too. So does a glass of wine.

Wups! Happy Puppy is asking to be let in. Hang on...

*** *** *** *** ***

...so. The Cat Thing. 

This house feels terribly empty without a cat.

I think my birthday gift to myself will be a cat. The birthday is two months from now; I figure that's time enough to get over the bleak feeling of having done a cat-avoidance shuffle-step when there is no need, or of checking the couch before I sit down.

I'm going to get a cat that doesn't rush the door. It doesn't have to be a kitten, though the first crop of them will probably be showing up in the shelters in late February. It *does* have to be a shelter cat. And it will be spayed or neutered and NOT declawed. Furniture is temporary; cut-off finger-ends are forever. Future Cat and Max will learn to deal with one another.

*** *** *** *** ***

And speaking of Max, he's a wonder. Does anybody else have a Bullfrog Dog who goes "MMMMMmmmmmmMMMMMMM" when you rub his ears? His nickname these days is Mister Hayes.

*** *** *** *** ***

And, finally, a link I found at Can't Spell, DVM that is totally worth reading: LPN with an M16.

Be well, Army LPN. Come back to us in one piece. Bridge to an RN. I would be more than proud to work with you.

And thank you.