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Hermit

The cranky thread

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We are not far from a vice-ridden strip through town, so this sort of thing happens "often". The car has only been stolen and driven away once in the last decade, but it has been broken into and rifled at least five other times in the same interval. One thief left his phone in the car, another left a big maglite and a couple of tools, after they did the riflings. Most of what has been stolen has been government property (my wife works for the Census Bureau), and the thieves have taken more car chargers (for computers) than I can count.

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The county rejected and sent back our check for half a year's property taxes because the amount was too high by fifteen cents (the amount is a couple of k; my wife transposed the digits in the cents). So, she'll be at the county office downtown to patch this over tomorrow.

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I went to a walk-in clinic last Friday. They prescribed Amoxicillin for the ear infection. I am completely cleared up except for the fact that I still cannot hear anything from my left ear. I am dreading the eventuality that I will have to have those tubes installed to drain the ears. The practicing nurse did tell me that it would be between 10-14 days before I see any sort of clearing but I have never had it last so long.

 

Every time I take the Amoxicillin I also get really sleepy and irritable. I've slept more in the last week than I have the previous six months.

 

And once I get all of that settled, I have to go about rebuilding my gut bacteria.  Whoever invented this whole getting sick thing really needs a stern talking to.

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A friend of mine drove me over to the veterinarian so that I could be with one of my cats one last time. I got Puuduu from a local no-kill animal shelter back in 2001, and she has been a loyal friend and constant companion through everything that I've gone through in that time. I had been dreading something like this, and it had been at the back of my mind for a while, that my time with her would be coming to an end sooner rather than later. My vacation last week had her in my lap quite a bit, though I had started to notice that she was becoming hesitant when contemplating jumping up on the chair or the bed. I couldn't really say that she had been off her food, but she had been drinking a little bit more water lately. This morning, she didn't greet me when my alarm went off, and I found her laying in the hall outside my door, obviously in some sort of pain. I put out food and water, and while getting ready for work, I noticed that she had made it almost to the bowl, but was laying down in the dining room. I started to assume the worst, and began to get ready so that I could take her in. I found her back in the hallway, outside my bedroom door, and I picked her up and put her on the bed. She cried a bit from pain, and seemed to favor a back leg, but settled down next to my other cat while I called my boss to explain that I'd be in late. There was no real fight from her when I put her in the carrier.

 

The vet listened to me rattle off a variety if issues that it could be, and then he said that they'd be running some x-rays and blood tests, and that they'd call me in the afternoon. I went off to work, and ended up talking a while with my boss. The phone call never came to my cell phone, and I figured that there'd be a call on the home phone. There was a very brief call, basically the vet leaving me the office number and then hanging up. I called in, and was given the news. Severe arthritis, which was pretty much in every joint, with a quiet comment that cats don't generally respond as well to treatment as dogs. Dumping sugar in the urine, and some extra glucose in the blood, so she was diabetic, or nearly so. It could be treated with insulin daily. I don't think that I said anything for a while, and then finally managed to choke out that I probably wouldn't be able to administer it in any reliable way--I couldn't even keep her claws trimmed, and certainly didn't believe that she'd put up with the shots. The vet didn't really sound surprised. He asked me if I needed time to think about it, and I agreed to call him back.

 

I called a good friend, and had a discussion, and we both agreed that she shouldn't suffer anymore. I called the doctor back, and explained it, and said that we would be in to say goodbye.

 

They brought her out, and we both spent time petting her. After a while, the vet came in, and administered the first shot, which was just to relax her. We continued to pet her, and it was only after a while that we realized that she was already gone, that rat-a-tat purr had been heard for the last time.

 

The house is a little quieter now, and I hugged my cat, Smudgen, and we sat together for a while while I started to write this. I know that she's missing Puuduu, and she even begged treats for her when I got home after work. They are still in Puuduu's bowl, uneaten, but checked occasionally when she goes by. It's going to be like that for a while around here, I know. The melancholy mixed with memories of happier times.

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My condolences.  Hobbes, who's been senior cat for five years or so, is over ten years old and doing just fine, but Dove is showing accumulating signs that she may not last a whole lot longer.  Meanwhile, Spike (approaching becoming the Ten Thousand Dollar Cat) we hope now has his issues under control, but it's difficult to be sure.

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New machine arrived.  Two issues.  Fixed one.

 

Turns out that the new MacOS came with a broken pointer to the shell for the Terminal app.  That can be fixed (and I did).

 

I think there's a new layer of mommy-may-I in the app install game, but I haven't had time to get that demonstrated incontrovertibly yet.  Until then, I can't get MacVim to run.  Annoying, but not as critically necessary as the Terminal shell pointer thing.

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I had to rescue a copy of Zarlyn Software's Quickdice from my functionally dead laptop to put on my new computer because there are no good dice roller computer programs on the web now.  It's all android app crap designed for the limitations of touch screens.  Which are substantial.  It took me about an hour to reanimate the zombie and search for and transfer the damn thing.  

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When I left the house about 6:30 this morning, the power had been out for not quite fourteen hours.  Irritating (AFAICT from walking around the neighborhood last night, we're at one corner of a six-block area where the power was knocked out in the high winds), but not life-threatening, except perhaps to the lizard.  It's not warm.

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