Chris called Tuesday morning and said there was something wrong with the cats butt, in that it looked like a monkey butt. So I ran my anxious, high strung cat to the vet to get checked out. Traxx just loooovvves the vet. They actually have a note on his account about how crazy he is. So, yum, anal gland issues (which the vet proceeds to tell me what it looked like when they squeezed it out). Vet says cat lost 3 pounds within a year. HOLY TWIGGY CAT! That herion-chic look was soo 1990's, so we decided to try and find out what was wrong. The cat has hyperthyroid (ism?). So we're fixing him by rubbing cream on his ears, which comes in syringes that make our house look like a drug den. He hates this too, but we are so excited to have a fat, lazy cat.
Then I pick up Daly from daycare. I'm informed he was limping and they gave him time-outs. I got a little snippy and told them to put that in his chart, cuz the boy has arthritis and he's going to limp a little, sheesh. So then she pulls me aside and tells me that in the time out he pooped on the floor. Really? My dog? The dog who never had an accident inside the house even when he was a puppy? So disappointed.
This is the closest they'll ever get to each other.
Not to mention I filled every minute of my time with something over the last week. Except for yesterday, I read a book. It was nice.