Monday, May 1st, 2006
Last week was not my best ever. It started off bad on Monday when I had to take our cat Alistair to the vet. We discovered by accident that he had seriously gross & painful-looking tooth/gum problems that needed to be remedied before they escalated to something worse.
Alistair hates people in general, but he especially hates the vet. He growled and hissed, which is all par for the course whenever he meets a stranger. They had to sedate him to scrape his teeth and do his yearly checkup, so I had to leave him there overnight. This upset me because I kept thinking what if the people I loved dropped me off in a strange place without telling me why, and I didn’t know if they’d ever come back? I cried, and my stomach was in knots that whole day and night and next day. He’s my baby, ok?
Because he is not the friendliest cat (did I mention that?) they had to both gas him and inject him with sedative. Then the gums were worse than they thought, so they had to laser them to stop the bleeding. While he was out, they did his yearly checkup, which involved giving him every shot in the known world.
Needless to say, when I picked him up from the vet, he was not in the best mood. The last time he was sedated (when he got neutered), he was all wild-eyed when I picked him up, but his face calmed down when he heard my voice. This time he showed no sign that he recognized me or my voice. Or maybe he did and he was pissed I left him at that wretched place.
All I know is I was one worried kittymom. I kept thinking, “What if his personality somehow got wiped out? What if he never remembers me?” Pretty silly, I know, but I just wanted to cuddle my baby and he wouldn’t let me and it sucked.
Once we got home he calmed down a lot, though his kittybrother Henry was still terrified of him. Alistair spent most of the night sitting straight up, staring glassy-eyed at nothing, and wobbling slightly. Meanwhile, I cried some more. Maybe it was hormonal.
Fortunately, next morning Alistair was back to normal, purring and rolling around wanting to be petted. My baby is ok! I went and bought a kitty toothbrush and toothpaste, and however ridiculous it sounds I will be brushing his teeth from now on, because I never want to put him (or myself) through something like this again.
But my best week ever wasn’t over yet. Just when I started feeling somewhat normal again, I got sick on Friday. I won’t go into the details, but it wasn’t the sweet little cough-cough/fever kind. Fortunately, I woke up pretty much better on Saturday and then we headed up to our friends’ house. The four of us had tickets to the NASCAR race in Talladega on Sunday.
I am not a NASCAR fan, which probably surprises no one who reads this blog. I’ve never understood the appeal of watching cars drive around in a circle 200-some-odd times. D, on the other hand, is a fan of pretty much anything that involves loud engines, so he likes it. He wanted to go, so I was taking one for the team.
But by race time, I had somehow become revved up for the event myself. There’s just something irresistible about being in a huge crowd of people, all excited about the same thing. It gets your adrenaline pumping – maybe because there’s always that slight chance the crowd will go insane and begin trampling folks.
Besides, the people-watching alone was worth the ticket price. I’ve never seen so many overbaked, age-resistant women in my life. Of course, I’ve never been to California.
Yet our racing adventure was not to be. The day was surprisingly windy, cloudy and cold for the last day of April. The rain held off until the moment the race started. We dashed in under the bleachers and stood huddled together next to a chain link fence, watching the dryer trucks drive slooooowly by on the track and trying to keep our plastic ponchos from billowing in the wind. This went on for two hours before the race was finally called. Postponed until the next day. You know, when we had to work.
Did I mention the tickets are non-refundable? Thank goodness for people-watching. We had more fun in that vein while waiting in traffic on the way out. A lady in tight shorts and an even tighter tank top began dancing beside her van, undulating her belly wildly and twirling her faux-blonde, waist-length ponytail around her head like a lasso. Some dudes walked by with Mardi Gras beads, and I don’t have to tell you what happened next. MY EYES! OH MY EYES!
Still, seeing a trying-not-to-be-old lady pop her boobs out of her tank top wasn’t enough to kill the disappointment. Darwin was devastated, our friends were devastated – heck, I’m devastated.
The race is going on right now, and we’re not there. I heard from a sports reporter friend that probably 100,000 people came back today. The sun is shining, so there’s probably lots more boobie-flashing and beer-funneling going on. Too bad we’re not there to see it.
I have high hopes for this week. I’m starting ballroom dancing lessons on Tuesday, I’ll be attending a wedding on Saturday night (the good kind that serves alcohol), and on Sunday I’m leaving for our annual work beach retreat. This one’s got to be better than last, right?