Disease, the diamond blue, and the devil, too.

I had fun today, for a few hours.

Of course, that means that something bad has to happen. Things just work that way. It's not that it's some intelligence doing it to me; it's just strictly a numbers thing.

Well, statistically it has to be working out that way for someone, somewhere, at some time, doesn't it? Well, that person is me, here, this lifetime.

I get home and not only is Romeo now sick, but it was after seven, and his vet is closed. I think it's a respiratory infection; I think he can wait until morning. He ate some measle treats, and then coughed. And I can just tell he's not feeling well. But I'm afraid to take him to the emergency vet, because they aren't always like, top-of-their-class material. I mean, it was there that they suggested I put him to sleep for being a "behaviour problem", when he was just being a regular old Siamese.

I figure that if he's eating, that's a good sign. And he's sleeping. He's just swallowing, like his nose is draining into his throat, or he has a sore throat, or something. So bright and early at seven a.m., our asses will be at the vet's, and I'm kicking myself for having spent my afternoon selfishly. If I'd come home as normal from Eviljob, I'd have seen that he was droopy faster.

I *did* call the Emergency vet, and they said it was a "my-call" thing; that if he's eating, that's good but on the other hand, at his age I want to be careful.

No kidding.

It was son-friend who said a couple of years ago that when Romeo dies, he's going to move away and not give me his new address or phone number for a few years, until I calm down. Okay, okay; I don't think Romeo is going to die from this...I'm just a Kittymommy, and I worry. Plus I'm an Ancodia, and I worry. Those two compounded are enough to send most to the nuthouse.