I can haz dishwashr

Yes, indeed.  Jeff and I got in the car at 1 minute after 4, and in rush hour traffic we a) made it to our destination, a cash only appliance place just north of the Justice Institute on McBride b) parked c) examined three dishwashers d) made our choice e) split up while he made delivery arrangements and I deked south to the Shell station to get cash f) regrouped to pay for it g) burst out laughing simultaneously when the guy, who had already taken the delivery money but had no urge to deliver it, said, “What kind car you got?”so I said, “A sports car”  so he insisted on looking at the vehicle with a view to its suitability to have the dishwasher loaded onto it, triggering even more gales of laughter (you should have seen this guy’s face, it’s like buddy, where the bejabbers do you put a dishwasher in an MR2?) and h) drove home in 38 minutes.

Yes, I am concerned about Margot.  But I can still be enchanted by the world and crack jokes, c’est mon métier.

I only THOUGHT Miss Margot’s preop screen came back okay

Doc Mehdi says her platelet count is so low that if he operated now she’d bleed out.  Good thing I went for the pre-op screening.  One of two things is going on.  Either the results were f*cked up, AND they didn’t call me to tell us before Jeff took her in, or she’s genuinely sick (which, given her behaviour is virtually impossible to believe) and, I say again, how come nobody called? I quoted LM Montgomery when remonstrating with the doc this morning, “Sad mismanagement somewhere!”  So I have to pay for yet more tests but they are keeping her overnight for free.  Apparently no work is getting done in the office as all the assistants are ignoring the phone for a chance to play with her; she’s already giving orders and being carried about from place to place.  Nobody who has met Miss Margot will fail to see that it’s just as well somebody as heartless and callous as me got her, or she’d be ruling the world by now.  Honestly.  She’s not a cat, she’s a benevolent dictatrix in feline form.

Anyway, I am so heartless that if it turns out she’s a goner, I’m going to keep her skull.  It is an entirely remarkable shape, and I would mount it at the top of a staff as an extremely scary object.  I mentioned this to Jeff earlier and he was grossed out. Hope you are too.  Mind you, if she’s okay and they just screwed up her bloodwork, I’m going to find another vet, after the operation.  She has to be spayed, she’d die if she ever was bred to anything but a very tiny male purebred.  And in the meantime, if she doesn’t have cancer or untreatable thrombocytopenia, I guess I’m on the rack for a LOT of expensive vet bills.  Cazart.

Fluttery

I am feeling a bit fluttery about Miss Margot’s operation today.  She has a strong heart (Persians sometimes run to heart trouble) and her pre-op screen came back okay, but I’m still unhappy, and listening to her cry for her lost dinner and breakfast is making me sad.  Wait til she comes home reeking of anaesthetic, loopy as all get out, while the boys gather round goggling at her.  They’ll be happy to have her so subdued …. And so will the rest of us, she’s about to go into heat. (Noiser, more affectionate and really anxious to go out).

Jeff has just left with Miss Margot.  There was a flaw in my cunning plan… I didn’t give him my credit card to pay for it all, so I think I will just go there at the end of the day and Jeff can drive us both home.  Continue reading Fluttery