The Cat Ate My Sermon

Six days ago, Scully was fine. At least she seemed fine to me. Still following me around the house, still perched in my lap every moment I sat at the computer, still crawling under the covers with me at night. Still eating, still playing, still swatting her brothers. Then I noticed a change. She was sleeping more. And eating less. She began to slow down. Simple movements required several minutes of recoup time. I called the vet Friday morning. Of course they were booked until the following Wednesday. Was it an emergency? Hell, I didn't know. But Scully was still drinking, still using the litterbox, still purring. But Saturday morning was no better. I called the emergency vet hospital and took her in. The vet took a blood and urine sample. She wasn't too concerned about Scully not eating, at least at this point, but suggested I give her pepcid tablets to quiet her stomach. Just pop it down her throat. Yeah...right. The vet was most concerned about her heart. She could hear both ...

Today is the second anniversary of my ordination. I haven't really had a chance to give it much thought, which is surprising for me, since I tend to be sentimental about things like this. But my mind has been consumed with other things I am currently in the second week of my vacation, if you can call it that. I didn't go anywhere, which is a very good thing. Tyler, my nine year old male cat, had ear surgery right before the vacation began. He had some complications, and had to be hospitalized for a few days. His two litter mates (Mulder and Scully) have decided to shun him, though he can't seem to understand why. While on vacation, I had planned to splurge on new office furniture, since I spend so much time working at home. It was a tad pricey, but at least it was on sale. Then the vet bills kept piling up (I also took my others in for their yearly exams/vaccinations). I lost track after the bills broke a grand. Then my upstairs AC window unit decided to die, as did my DV...