Reunions and repairs
We are rapidly approaching The Day That Will Live in Infamy. The high holy reunion. For an introvert like me, quite the event. The horse (Levi) seems to delight in foiling my best-laid plans (though I am neither mouse nor man, last I checked). First the scrape on the withers, and now the lovely respiratory infection. Thank the deities/essences/whichever spiritual repositories of prayer you wish, it wasn’t and isn’t strangles.
Symptoms: thick creamy green-yellowish nasal discharge, weepy eyes, fever of about 2-3 degrees above normal, and swollen (not abscessed!) sub-mandibular lymph nodes.
Diagnosis: Levi has a nasty bacterial cold.
Prescription: a powdered antibiotic, delivered in about 2.5 scoop amounts each evening, mixed with food. Cindy actually surviving undergrad well enough to make it to vet school. Cindy being able to deal with her own animals (ergh) at least as far as prevention if not actual treatment. Since only 1 out of those 3 is available, I mix what I can of carrots and powder.
Next week Wiggy goes back to have a couple of skin things removed. For such a macho dog, he’s a real wimp when it comes to the vet. Maybe I should start wearing scrubs around him and using nasty-smelling disinfectants. Mwahahaha. If only.
And now off to sleep, perchance to dream. Dream of endless weeks with nothing hanging over my head, dream of reunion-less weekends, of 4-H-less weekends, of time to myself. Time to peruse my books, my websites, time to write, time simply to sit in the sun and dream.
Yes, I think that is one of my defining traits. Dreaming. Mixed with an occasionally unhealthy dose of practicality to the point of dreamlessness. You figure it out, I know I can’t.
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