That is so crazy, askye. And you are doing everything you can. Kitty~ma for Dean.

[Hearting on my vet so much right now. They don't even do appointments, I don't think, though you can let them know up front when you are coming in. Even for the surgeon - I know what days he's in and just bring her in then. Last time he happened to be out for lunch so I just left her there and came back a few hours later.]

You also might want to look at whether a vet has evening hours. Our vet practice is also open until 8:00. Makes it easy to schedule check-ups after we get home from work.

For an extra charge, they also do house calls. Which meant that we were able to put Max to sleep at home in familiar surroundings.

I found a vet! They have evening hours (which are really popular) but also will board the cat during the day for a $14 charge. I'm willing to accept that.

Hurrah for evening hours. And $14 is pretty reasonable, I think - I pay $12.

Our vet is part of the PetsMart, but they're wonderful. The desk staff say hello to Shadow without being reminded of his name, other staff will poke their heads in "to see the adorable black kitty," and he doesn't try to eat the vet. He's very calm at the vet, he just mumbles under his breath a lot.

I might have paid something before and never paid attention. I still have to take Dean to the ER vet tonight, which is fine, but I have someone to go to for follow up care and to take Penny.

Zen, everyone should love my dad. It should be a rule.

Connie, our current Scot is Shadow too! My mom is Not Original when it comes to naming our Scots. There's been:

Muffy, who died fending off a PACK OF WILD DOGS when I was a toddler. She was our feistiest, most protective Scot—she attacked a HORSE when it came on Her Property with a rider unknown to her.

When my dad told me the story of her dying—he was putting together a crib for me when he heard her barking and ignored it for a while, and by then it was too late, but two of the feral dogs were dead and Muff's wounds were too bad to save her—is the second time I have seen him cry in my life (other time was when Grandma had to be put in a nursing home with dememtia — he'd still spit in the face of God, should God exist, for THAT.)

Then Sassy, Pepper and now Shadow. I love Scots. They are great dogs. Smart, small but mighty, protective, FAST, mellow but alert, extremely loyal, good hunters.

Terriers rule! Mine's getting old, but if somebody messed with me, all I'd have to do is tell the cops to follow the blood trail from his ankles(she's a Jack Russell...she's short but relentless.)

Muffy, who died fending off a PACK OF WILD DOGS when I was a toddler.

Muffy the Feral Slayer! She saved the Erin. A lot.

Muffy the Feral Slayer! She saved the Erin. A lot.

OMG, I am tearing up a little at this. *sniff*

Sass was our dog from 86 to...2005? She was pretty mellow, but one time, (at band camp), no, during summer vaca when my little sister and I were teens, we were sleeping in and my mmo was out of the house, and my grandpa came by, came in the house. He was going to sneak in and wake us up.

Sass knew him, of course, but none of Her People were awake to give the ok, so she stood between Grandpa and the bedrooms in the dining room, and was all like "I'm not attacking you, but you can't come any further." And she was a pretty laissez-faire Scot, but Gramps was all "Hmm. Nope. Better not!"

Now I have that terrier song from "Best of Show" as an earworm. Thanks, brain.

(Scots were bred to hunt badgers --fucking BADGERS -- in their dens. They are bad-ass little dogs. Mom and dad's current Scot, Shadow is 35 lbs, which is LARGE for a female Scot, and it is pure muscle. And she is fast as fuck. Scots' jaws have the gripping strength of a German Shepards'.)