The Divine Mr. M

~It'll be my birthday in a couple of weeks and while I want many things, what I really need is money, especially the fifty bucks for new brake-pads and the fifty bucks to pay Rico to put them on. That is months overdue. I've been trying to squeeze out the cash to get it done, but we're just too tight. *sigh*

I'll take the money however y'all wish to give it; PayPal, cheque, money order or cash via snail mail. [PM me for the addy] Even five bucks in an envelope would be fine.

Oy...had to push the above out like a dry turd. Had this file sitting on my desktop for a week now with just the post title.

As is usual, in the month or so running up to my birthday, I'm twitchy as fuck, though not as twitchy as I have been in this window. The blood pressure meds I'm taking, supposedly to protect my kidneys from da beetus, knocked the shit outta me. I slept through nearly all of July. I just started cutting the dose in half and I feel somewhat better. But I had to have a 'breakdown' and a heart-to-heart with Le-Le before I got there.

I got a bunch of other stuff to bitch and moan about, but I'm trying to motivate myself to make a WinCo run. More later...I guess.

~The vet had renal failure concerns about the anti-inflammatory that he gave Icarus, said to watch for signs like peeing a lot, drinking a lot and listlessness. Hard to keep track of the first two with this whole mob, but I think he did pee a bit more than usual. However, he seems his same goofy self, though he's justifiably twitchy about Burrito Kitty Torture Time, poor thing.

There's just one more dose of the anti-inflammatory tonight and then it's just one more week of the nasty cherry shit [antibiotics] which he hates worse than death itself. Believe me, wrestling with a nineteen pound cat that obsofuckinglutly Does Not Want is no fucking joke.

The tumor still looks ugly and I cannot see any change. *sigh* But it's only been a week. And yeah, I've second guessed myself about going with meds instead of surgery more than once.

We're still about sixty bucks short of covering the vet bill but that won't bite until the end of the month.

~We're both doing better today. And so is Icarus. He's happily lounging on his box and was soaking up petting and such from me. I was telling him that Burrito Kitty Torture Time was coming up because his towel was in the dryer. He of course was blissfully ignorant of what I was saying

I get to wrap him in tightly a towel and hold him down while Le-Le squirts cherry flavored antibiotics into his big squawking gob. Poor Buckethead.

The tumor on his foot looks fucking nasty with all the hair shaved off. [I've been calling him 'Chickenfoot' lol] He gets seven days of anti-inflammatory and two weeks of cherry flavored antibiotics and then he goes back to the vet and we see what the what is.

We're doing are best to 'be okay'. There is a type of tumor that does recede and go away. He's really my best buddy of all the little weasels and...well, I don't want to go there right now. My sinuses are fucked up enough from crying.

Speaking of going back to the vet, it dawned on me that we gotta pay for that too. *sigh*

~I'd been planning on taking Icarus to the vet on next Monday when we had all out monies in, but his foot has gone from chronic to acute since yesterday, so we'll take him tomorrow first thing in the AM. Our first monies hit the bank at apx 1:30am. *sigh*

I Tweeted earlier, “I looked out upon the world this morning and despaired...” but much of that was our own situation. If we'd have had fifty bucks to spare we could have bought a live trap cage on the day George got out and maybe he'd be back inside right now. If we'd had a couple hundred bucks to spare Icarus would already have gone to the vet and been well into healing right now. Plus there's...

...well, there's a whole list. When this just fucks with us, we roll with it. But when it hurts the lil weasels it breaks my heart...and now I'm crying again and I've barely had three slips of coffee...

Even if you cannot donate by tomorrow, please give when you can. It'll help on the back end and Mauser still needs to be shaved, too:

~I put the food out for George just now and Matilda was waiting. She practically ran up my leg to get at it and chowed downed while I stood not three feet away. We doubt the neighbors feed her well. I'll put more grub in there later for our lil shit.

I asked Le-Le if we would keep Matilda if she was the one who wound up in the trap. *sigh* “Probably,” she said.

We'll take Icarus to the vet a week from Monday. All our monies will be in by then and we'll just take the leap of faith that your generous donations will see all of us through.

~This morning I started driving myself crazy with ridiculous paranoid drama mindfuck games whose details I'm not even going to hint at...except that they were all money based. *sigh*

We think we saw George last night, but it was hard to be certain. 'Someone' knocked over the boards Le-Le placed over the hole in the skirting..from the inside. And there was 'someone' at the end of the driveway 'waiting for their fucking dinner'. I put the bowls on the concrete and looked out my bathroom window and whoever it was had their face in the chow. Looked too big for Matilda – my name for the neighbor’s cat because she has waltzed us around – but I can't be certain. Made me happy anyhow, stupid sentimental old bastard.

On the vet front, we're hoping that Icarus will just need a lancing and bandaging. If he needs surgery, well, that shit runs into the several hundred bucks and I doubt we can Cyber Begging our way out of that. As long as it's not life threatening, he'd just have to be a gimp.

He's not favoring the thing – a swollen back paw pad – but it gets a little raw and his paw is a bit 'deformed' from swelling. However when I clean it he doesn't flinch in pain, just squawks like he's being murdered, which is what he does with just about everything because he's a big fucking baby.

Thank you to those that have kicked in some bread so far. We're slowly coming along. We're at the 'probably won't starve' stage now.

Anyway, please give what you can. Remember any extra will go to getting Terror Cat shaved, poor old thing.

And here's some more begging...