tobermory's Diaryland Diary


Matty in da' house!

So, today is Take Your Dog to Work Day, and since itís Friday itís also I Donít Give a Damn, Iím Wearing Jeans Anyway Day. Matty is utterly confused by the turn of events that have brought her to this strange place today (I have the same thoughts, but I have them everyday), not really sure where to be or what to do. She spent the first couple of hours standing nervously behind me, but now sheís relaxed enough to lie down. Unfortunately she chose to lie down directly behind my chair so Iím trapped at me desk unless I want to roll over one of her tiny appendages. Iím a quandary about her food. Since she doesnít seem to like the dog food sheís been prescribed (really, it smells pretty repulsive so I canít blame her) Iíve started to give her bits of what Iím eating to supplement her intake. Today she had some bagel, a bite of banana, and some goldfish crackers. At home I sprinkle dry cat food on top of the wet food (sort of like jimmies) and that seems to work sometimes. When sheís at the vet today Iím going to ask about moving her off of the dog food and maybe Iíll start cooking for her. I can brown lean ground beef and mix it with rice or steam some chicken breasts. Shut up Ė even Iím rolling my eyes at the thought of doing more cooking for the dog than I do for me and Steve, but if it will help her gain back some weight then Iíll give it a whirl. I hope that whatever the prognosis isÖ I donít know, I just donít really want to go through what I had to go through with my mom all over in canine form.

So, to get to the Architectural Asshats party tonight is going to be tricky. I have to get out of here at 4:15, race to my catsitting job* to scoop poop and dole out meds and food, race to the vet, race to pick up Steveís sister (and this one has me backtracking slightly too), race home to drop off the pooch, race to Alliís to pick up her and other-Paula, and then race to Architectural Asshats where I will dive headfirst into the kiddie-pool filled with ice and beer. I hate nights like this Ė the party better be fun.

∑ I know, Iím a little long in the tooth to be doing catsitting, but these are friends of my parents Ė very wealthy friends of my parents Ė and I have foisted two of their three cats onto them. Plus, since one of the cats needs meds and also has a tendency to poop on the floor near, but not in, the litterboxes they know these are situations I can handle. The job comes with great perks too Ė they leave me the keys for both of their swanky Mercedes because they donít want them sitting for three weeks and they usually bring me back some fabulous European-only perfume from the duty-free shop. When itís all said and done, the pay ainít so bad either. The last time I did this the check was embarrassingly large Ė enough to buy me, mmmm say two nice pairs of Manolos (although thatís not what I did with it Ė I bought art).

Thatís all gotta run to the vet Ė keep your fingers crossed for Matty Ė sheís had a shitty enough life as it is.

Resolution Diary:
Dinner yesterday: pasta with meat sauce, broccoli rapini, a slice of Italian bread, (finally) a glass of wine.
Breakfast: bagel with cream cheese
Lunch: banana, Ĺ packet of goldfish crackers
Snack: nada
Reading: Death in the Garden.

4:11 p.m. - 2006-05-19


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