Hellos, Everybun!
Last Sunday Night
I'm doing better, and the biped is going out of his way to over-cookie and snack me without over-treating and snacking. I'm in the hay bin, noming up the hay like there's no tomorrow.
M*nd*y
I'm wings-level and starting to climb again to my usual bunitude. At my discretion, of course.
In the morning, the v.e.t. called, and Dr. Zellner wants to see me. She missed me on Saturday. And there goes my afternoon. But the checkup goes well, and I don't even get mad, and I enjoy a chunk of papaya right in the exam room.
Poor Gus gets his for a change too. Nail trim, blood work, works.
The hoomin stayed clear of us that evening.
Tuesday
The v.e.t. called to check on me. Then called again to let us know Gus's results came back whistle-clean. More treats! We even art a little.
Wednesday
The day becomes a tumbleweed-sized hairball on fire for the hoomin. He can't even, but oddly enough, he does.
Thursday
The hairball continues to smolder. But we're doing just fine.
Friday
The long weekend for my hoomin is here. Now comes the hard part - dealing with the post-tar-pit bends. Can't relax too quickly or that last working brain cell will pop. So we get a major cleanup.
Everything is changed, bundos rearranged, the cookies stay the same. Art-wise, the day is wasted, though.
Today
Charlie really hates the Trimeth/Sulfa; just hates it with passion. The biped tries to get the meds in quickly, but this stinks. She gets mad, runs, hides, and it takes a blueberry the size of a peach to try and distract her after the meds. Now the plan is for the biped to stay out of sight again for as long as he can so we can "do bunny things."
I'm working on some fresh apple sticks. These suckers are serious - if I ever need to make a stake for stabbin' through the heart, which he obviously ain't got, these are the sticks.
We'll keep you posted!
- Gus
