I am a little bit scared of our cat. She seemed sick yesterday, so I took her to the vet and found out that:
1) she was attacked by an animal and had scratches on her bum and that was why she was so lethargic for 3 days and
2) she has a rotting tooth.
So Honeybelle received a rabies shot ( it’s the law), we came home with some liquid antibiotic, and were told that we should observe her for 45 days. And now I am paranoid- I think she has rabies. It is dark, windy, and wet outside but she won’t come in. She is hiding out in the barn and wasn’t even interested when I tempted her with food. It is odd behavior and I can only imagine she is sulking off to morph into a rabid beast. This is when I hate having a pet. We are not pet people. We have 1 cat and she should remain low maintenance if she knows what’s good for her. Sorry kitty you just aren’t high on my list of priorities.
I am flying to L.A. on Friday, which seems very strange. I love the idea of spontaneous travel. There is nothing more romantic than the idea of just picking up and going somewhere on a whim. And for a long time I did: amazing spur of the moment Thelma and Louis style trips. But I drag my heels and procrastinate and stress about a trip in a way that would suggest otherwise. I love to travel but I hate to go. The physical leaving is really hard. Once I am three houses down the road I start to feel better but walking away from my house, my home usually involves tears (ridiculous, I know) and even more so when I am going alone.
I am treating myself to a 36 hour trip to L.A. to attend my brothers wedding. Just me. And as I sit here writing this I am starting to get excited. I still got it, I can still jump on a plane and fly to L.A. for a day and a half like it is no big thang! And despite my separation anxiety I know that soon after I return home it will seem as if I never left.