"Why am I in a gym bag?? This isn't cool. Not cool at all. Why am I outside? And what are those SMELLS!??"
"I can't believe I fell for this... Go with your gut Atticus, go with your gut... But noooo, I have to fall for being picked up and petted and kissed on the head like it was my birthday or something. Now I'm stuck on this cold table with some lady probing my butt and telling me I have to watch my weight...yeah, watch this lady. And as for you, Mom... I'm so freakin' pissed off I could spit."
"If you think I'm going to forget this. Think again. I have a memory like you wouldn't. Believe. When you least exp....oh, hey! Is it dinner time? Cool!"
Finally. I had to resort to stuffing him into a gym bag, but it worked. Mister finally made it to his appointment, spitting mad. More bark than bite (he was actually spitting on the table), but in the end, he made it. Not as heavy as I'd expected (20.2 lbs, up from 19 lbs last time around), but all in all, in good health.
But, wouldn't you know it... He's been in the box every 10 minutes since last night. I'm praying it isn't crystals again, but judging by the way he's running around and playing master and commander with his toys (and Gandalf), he's *hopefully* just reacting to the senior food the vet has him on now. I'm going to be watching him closely to see what develops (or hopefully doesn't).
There is precious little on the knitting front. Thanks to everyone who gave me sock knitting tips, and especially to Bev who sent a few very simple patterns my way! I have to keep trying, seeing how I have a load of sock yarn that's not going to knit itself...
Now, wouldn't that be something if it could? Or at least started itself for me...