SassyBlonde

So, ladies and gentlemen, it has been an eventful and stressful week here at Chez Sassy, but I am happy to report that everyone here is doing fine and at least making an attempt at being frisky and healthy, including the hungry spaz-cat.

Though he basically terrified the hell out of us, he seems none the worse for wear and has been taking his treatment for the Lily Debacle of 2008 pretty well. He spent four days in the vet hospital being cleaned out, shot up, and generally traumatized, and I have to say it's probably the best money I've ever spent. Thank goodness we have good credit, so I managed to get him out without bankrupting us for rent and bills, and I have to say I'm not sorry for one dime of it.

Why? Because, my friends, for the enormous four-figure cash drop that we've put in, he received finer care than *I've* ever received when in the hospital. Seriously, I'm not kidding. For the four days he was there, I can confidently tell you that he was monitored 24 hours a day by no less than three vets, coddled and scratched and tested by vet techs, and basically ensconced in a setup cleaner than anywhere I've ever been, besides perhaps my mother-in-law's house. I know this because I went during visiting hours (I shit you not. This place has visiting hours.) and coddled and scratched him myself, and met every single one of his caregivers, including the incredibly attentive vet who called me three times a day with updates and came in personally to talk to me whenever I stopped by to visit him.

Let me pause for a little rant here for a second: after the time I've spent in hospital myself and with friends, I am floored that my cat receives more attentive care than we ever have. It makes me want to storm Washington and forcibly tie every Congressman to a hospital bed and make them experience the kind of ineptitude and insanity that I've been forced to endure, so they will somehow be motivated to FIX. THE. PROBLEM. (Ahh... much better. This rant has been brought to you by the number 6 and the letter D.)

At any rate, he's now home and back to maniacally chasing shoelaces and fuzzy mice and sleeping like a rock on his perch above my computer, and all seems right in our little corner of the world. (Financial crisis? What financial crisis? Oh. Right. More on that later.)

I want to thank you all for the kind Tweets and messages and comments and phone calls-- it really helped shore me up in a couple of scary moments, and I love you all for it. And so does Gizmo.