I haven't updated, much to y'alls' glee I'm sure, because yesterday was The Day From Hell.  Seriously, Satan must have jumped in my purse when I was in Pinedale a few days ago.  I'll have to fumigate soon.

After the sleepless night trying to capture Orange Kitty #3 across the subdivision I came home for the last time and got ready to take a trip to the post office.  Yes, visits to the post office are Earth-shattering events here.  As I was gathering my shoes I realized Pip had an enormous hard lump underneath his eye.  Naturally I overreacted and saw the world crashing in around me—but I give myself huge leeway in this situation due to the absurd level of stress of these past 3 weeks.  So I threw a huge tantrum, cried tears I didn't think I had left, carried Pip around like a baby, and proceeded to make an embarrassingly overwrought call to the vet. 

She got him in, sedated him to the point where he was a limp noodle, and determined he needed to have a molar removed.  An anesthetic-required procedure—thoughts of anesthesia make my heart stop beating.  The appointment was set for today, as well as getting Miller in for a dental so they'd be done at the same time.  I spent the last 3 hours of the day attempting to sleep around phone calls about Orange Kitty #3 (the people were being incredibly helpful) and the persistent attempts of my intestines to lurch out of my throat. 

This morning I dropped the boys off at the vet, talked myself out of driving off the bridge, and checked the trap, which did contain Orange Kitty #3.  I think this may actually be Orange Kitty #4, but who the hell knows anymore?  Orange Kitty #3 is not Sunkist.  In fact, he belongs to the man across the street and I think he was a bit puzzled when he saw me freeing his cat.  He came over and promised to let me know if he saw another orange kitty around.

Fortunately the boys are okay, but quite sore and grumpy, and they are 1.5 teeth short for a grand total of $840.  J is just grumpy all around and I'd prefer if he'd go on a vacation—alone.  The weather has turned quite bad (this means snow—in June—Wyoming—seriously?) and trapping is out of the question, so we've set up a disturbingly fishy kitty buffet and ordered a ridiculous night vision camera to see if Sunkist is coming around.  Finding a displaced cat is expensive financially and emotionally.

I had a dream that I caught him by our trailer.  I snatched his ass up and held on for dear life.  Sheer relief.  Then I woke up in hell again.  J and I are beginning to wonder what we did to deserve this—what kind of horrible thing must we have done to cause such pain for our pets? 

So my life is turning into cans of fish and a need for extra-strength Tums.  At this point in the night I'm too exhausted, too cried-out to feel much.  But this kind of loss, even if temporary, can be felt through any amount of exhaustion or medication.

It's been 21 days.


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Unrelated, do you think it's weird that my spellchecker tries to replace the word "okay" with "orgy"?  I do.  Also, the new blog is getting bloody close to completion.  I'll let you know when it does by posting here.  In the meantime, here's some ads for your viewing pleasure.