I know I love my cat, because I wouldn’t get up at 7 AM for many other beings if I didn’t A) think there was money to be had or B) owe ’em a kidney. This may mean that I am a mercenary organ pirate, but really, I’m okay with that.
So I dropped the Loki-bear off at the vet, where they will be getting him on different insulin by the time-tested method of injecting him, then doing a blood test an hour later. The vet assures me that she’s never had a cat not respond to at least one of the three insulin varieties. There is a chance, unfortunately, that his somewhat drunken neuroapathy will be a permanent condition, but since it doesn’t seem to affect his quality of life that much (he’s already adapted pretty well to jumping up on things and beating up the other cat) and he’s not in pain, I’m not real worried. If he was suffering, that’s another matter, of course, but fortunately, doesn’t seem to be the case.
Been working on an odd commission–art for the side of my stepmother’s van. (She’s a mobile pet groomer.) Due to one of those inevitable scheduling miseries, it was do-it-in-three-days job, but it’s come out pretty well, and I don’t mind doing it–I get paid, and more importantly, I would die a thousand deaths to think that a relative of mine was driving around with clip art. However, having drawn six dogs of various breeds, (and one cat) I have A) felt trapped in a Primus song (Too…many….puppies!) and B) learned that dog-show people are at least as crazy as furries. At least the furries just dress up themselves. You should see some of these animals. Other dogs would laugh at them. However, since the van will be the showcase in a dog grooming show in Hershey, with my art on it, and she tells me that she thinks other groomers will be all over personalized art for their vans, she’s taking business cards along. So, y’never know–sometimes the odds things pan out well.