Bones and more Not-ness-of me

How am I not Madeleine?  Let me count the ways . . .  and I’m quite certain she would have had something pithy to say on the matter right here.  I, however, got bupkis.  (And Morgan would already be well into an extremely detailed examination of the behavior of quarks under extreme stressors.  Or something like that.  I can’t even bullshit my way through a Morgan-like column.)

Oh yeah, and Madeleine has kids.  (So does Morgan, dammit. Honestly, does Morgan never stop with the whole over-accomplished life thing?  Sheesh.)  Anyway, were Madeleine stumped for a topic, she would just write a post about whatever brilliant thing her brilliant offspring had done that day.

Me?  I got cats.

So right off the bat, I am deep in the weeds with my not-Morgan and not-Madeleine-ness.

So, instead of an Erma Bombeck by way of Sartre post, you’re getting Floyd.

And not even of the Pink variety.

As y’all know from one of my previous entries, Floyd is my decrepit, twenty-year-old cat who underwent a couple of operations for a bad tooth a while back.

Despite odds that he wouldn’t survive the first surgery, he did.  And he got through a second surgery, too.

The scary thing was that his face wouldn’t quite heal up.  I kept him on antibiotics for more than a month while I kept, er, administering to his ooky.  (Sorry to lay down technical terms like ooky, but you swims with the big fishes, you takes your chances.  And I decided it would be too gross to talk about squeezing the pus out of Floyd’s cheek every day.  D’oh!)

Then things took a turn for the, well, oogy.  (Again, I know, with the overly-complicated vernacular.)  I’d been reluctant to take Floyd back to the vet because I didn’t really want them messing with him anymore.  He’d been through enough.  But his ooky had gone oogy, and I had no choice.

So we go to the vet and they get us settled into a room.  A few minutes later the vet comes in and after a brief synopsis of the situation, she takes Floyd into the back to get a better look at the oogy.  The vet comes back with Floyd.  They’ve shaved his cheek to get a better look at what has been happening there oogy-wise.  Continue reading