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Feb. 10th, 2017 10:03 amCurrent political state: I have reached the point where hysterical laughter is the default response to news coming out of DC. Maniacal, unbelieving, amused but uncontrollably nervous laughter.
Goddammit boyfiend do not text me to tell me a cat is missing, just. Don't. I mean on the one hand at least it's Bat Cat and if he has escaped to the outside world he's only been in about six weeks, and on the other hand that is not something I want to hear when I'm at work and there's nothing I can do about it. I want all my cats safe and sound at home goddammit. At least with the feral clowder I know they're generally safe and sound under the house or in the yard, but part of the reason we brought Bat Cat in was because the other two in the clowder had decided he no longer belonged and. Ugh.
Bonus Ugh because work has been absurdly busy and after about five hours of running around packing things picking things answering phones running around some more I finally got a chance to sit down and eat a damn orange but haven't gotten a chance to do much else argh.
Extra Bonus Ugh in getting a text from the boy that one of the other ferals, one of the clowder who's been running Bat Cat off, is injured. With picture to boot. I'm hoping I can sit in the utility room with him and get him cuddly and then stuff him into a crate and we can take him to the 24 hour vet, but ugh. Apparently he's also not coming close at least for now.
I want corn chips and mac and cheese and not to do anything and fuck everything I want to go home and I want all my damn cats. All 8 of them. Yes, I am a crazy cat lady, who the fuck cares, I want all my cats safe and home.
ETA: So Cassius came up for his evening meal and I was able to scoop him up and almost jam him into a carrier, if it had been a little bigger I probably would have. Instead of that we ended up putting him in the quarantine room/office and sitting with him until he stopped pacing, then swabbing his bite/injury with water and then with an antibiotic ointment that he hopefully has not all wiped or licked off by now. He's reappeared on his shelf in the utility room so it seems like he'll stick around as per routines, which in turn will mean we can keep an eye on how that's healing. (Also I swear, if he weren't really attached to Barton, who actually does behave like a feral, I would rehome him in an instant. I can pick him up, stuff him halfway into a carrier, haul him around, move him to get a better look at his paw, touch the belly, touch his injured paw with q-tips... nothing. The most he ever did was squirm, no swiping with claws, no biting, no anything. lots of purring and meowing.)
Goddammit boyfiend do not text me to tell me a cat is missing, just. Don't. I mean on the one hand at least it's Bat Cat and if he has escaped to the outside world he's only been in about six weeks, and on the other hand that is not something I want to hear when I'm at work and there's nothing I can do about it. I want all my cats safe and sound at home goddammit. At least with the feral clowder I know they're generally safe and sound under the house or in the yard, but part of the reason we brought Bat Cat in was because the other two in the clowder had decided he no longer belonged and. Ugh.
Bonus Ugh because work has been absurdly busy and after about five hours of running around packing things picking things answering phones running around some more I finally got a chance to sit down and eat a damn orange but haven't gotten a chance to do much else argh.
Extra Bonus Ugh in getting a text from the boy that one of the other ferals, one of the clowder who's been running Bat Cat off, is injured. With picture to boot. I'm hoping I can sit in the utility room with him and get him cuddly and then stuff him into a crate and we can take him to the 24 hour vet, but ugh. Apparently he's also not coming close at least for now.
I want corn chips and mac and cheese and not to do anything and fuck everything I want to go home and I want all my damn cats. All 8 of them. Yes, I am a crazy cat lady, who the fuck cares, I want all my cats safe and home.
ETA: So Cassius came up for his evening meal and I was able to scoop him up and almost jam him into a carrier, if it had been a little bigger I probably would have. Instead of that we ended up putting him in the quarantine room/office and sitting with him until he stopped pacing, then swabbing his bite/injury with water and then with an antibiotic ointment that he hopefully has not all wiped or licked off by now. He's reappeared on his shelf in the utility room so it seems like he'll stick around as per routines, which in turn will mean we can keep an eye on how that's healing. (Also I swear, if he weren't really attached to Barton, who actually does behave like a feral, I would rehome him in an instant. I can pick him up, stuff him halfway into a carrier, haul him around, move him to get a better look at his paw, touch the belly, touch his injured paw with q-tips... nothing. The most he ever did was squirm, no swiping with claws, no biting, no anything. lots of purring and meowing.)