Today, as I sip coffee and linger over my bacon and hashbrowns, there pops up in my e-mail an ad for “Beastiality Snuff!”
This is not the sort of thing I like to see over my breakfast. It does remind me of why I stopped reading Laurell K. Hamilton stuff–too much were-porn, not enough exorcisms. Nevertheless, I reiterate my earlier comments–if you really need to see footage of someone abusing a goat and then shuffling it off this mortal coil, you A) need therapy, or perhaps a bullet and B) are such a small, freaky minority that advertising is not effective to reach you, so the rest of us should not have to hork our coffee over the keyboard. (Given that the FBI’s best efforts would indicate that real snuff films, like satanic ritual abuse, appear to be an entirely mythical beast, I doubt it’s anything to get worked up about, however.)
In completely unrelated news, we have–finally!–good news on the Loki front. We had originally start at 2 units twice a day for insulin, gradually worked up to 5 units twice a day, heroic dosages for a cat, and nothin’. Still with blood sugar in the 400+ range, still with the shakes. Finally, the vet said “Okay, we’re gonna try THIS!” and injected 8 units directly into muscle instead of subcutaneously. An hour later, his blood sugar was down to a respectable 150, and the vet threw her hands in the air and said “Eureka!” Evidentally he was simply Too Fat. Her guess was that the insulin was going directly into fat and just not hitting the blood stream in any quantity. Put it in muscle, of course, and it gets around no matter how fat you are.
Since he had run through the other types of insulin with absolutely no effect, I was VERY relieved–I was having visions of having to put the poor butterball down to spare him a protracted, wasting end, and it was making me pretty unhappy. So, much relief. However, now I gotta skewer the poor cat directly in muscle tissue, which is a bit creepier than subcutaneous. The vet attempted to show me how to do it last night, but Loki had been in the hospital for two days, had blood drawn something like ten times, and been jabbed repeatedly as they tested multiple insulins and failed, so he was Done. Even a beast as docile as Loki has limits, and his had been reached. Not that he’d ever attack anyone–he never bites or claws, perish the thought, but he was flopping around and wailing like some kind of fish. The rare Arizona Shrieking Catfish, say. She put the needle in, he flailed and wailed and thrashed, of course jerking the needle out of her hand. It looked a bit like one of those nature films where they dart the animals, and it’s lumbering around in a rage with a tranq dart hanging out of its haunch, except that Loki was not going down at all. Finally we managed to pin him, she shrugged and said “Normally I’d have you do it, but I think he’s had enough,” and we took him home.
Did it this morning, forgot to aspirate the needle, but he sat munching a treat and not paying attention, as usual, so I think it’ll work out okay, if I can just remember to aspirate. The things we do for love…
