So yesterday I took Elvis to the vet.

He took one look at him and how he was breathing and how thin he has gotten and he said, "He could die at any moment." This isn't do much what I was crazy to hear, really. I rather would have preferred something a little less blunt, but I realize that he just wanted me to be prepared for the worst.

The breathing problems that he is having are apparently either asthma, a lung infection or lung cancer. The first two are treatable, the last, obviously, is not. I had to leave him for tests and pick him up in the afternoon, and also pay $700. Of course I'd pay anything, or rather, my Mom will, but that does seem a little excessive. They did do about a million tests, though.

So I had to leave work at 3.30p, which, after the Day of Horror the day before I would rather not have done, but there was nothing that I could do--Cynthia couldn't get him for me, it had to be me. So I drove back and waited for an hour and then they gave him back to me and showed me the x-rays and gave me two pills and some vitamin B drops to give him that will work if he has asthma or an infection and won't help a damn bit if it's cancer.

I brought him home and let him spent the evening on my lap sitting in front of the heater, watching his quick, gaspy breathing. Please don't let him die soon, Milo was only two years ago, I can't do this again right away. This is the problem with having cats all around the same age, when they start to go it's like dominos falling.

Today's horoscope:
Referees and masters of ceremony are in their element. You know the rules and your timing is perfect. A temporary friendship serves everyone who understands what it's about.

One year ago today:
I felt kind of bad that I hadn't told Claire my real name, because she was such a darling girl, but like I said, I wasn't exactly lying, because secretly I am Sally, after all.

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Last Updated Mon 20 January 19:05:09 2003