Copyright 2009-2013 Liz Sweibel

Saturday, February 12, 2011

If Only ...

... life were as intoxicatingly thrilling, thoroughly consuming, and ultimately satisfying, as this:


My brother Jonathan, who was father to the quite odd Harry until finding him a new California home for very good reasons, noticed that of all the fancy toys he purchased for his cat, it was when he dropped a twistie that all hell broke loose.  I've noted the same.  Only the red laser light produces a more vivid response.

Glenwood has major sticky stuff in her ear now, so of course brushes along every available surface, from my pants to the door edges of my apartment, leaving a trail I am sure will take me decades to sandblast off.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Plan E.5

Glenwood's ear is worse, in the sense that it's a bit smellier and I'm digging out Even More Goo.  She remains ecstatic to be alive, however.  Here she is rabbit-kicking my running gloves after creating her usual mess of the pillows:


And in a peaceful nanosecond with Timmy:


So, tomorrow we are trying an interim med between plan E and surgery.  Look at this baby:


The whole thing goes into her ear and I scrunch-scrunch-scrunch (Dr. Ryan's specific orders) and we wait two weeks.  When I was ear-digging a few minutes ago, I noticed she pulled this off, as her new habit is to bat the toothpaste into the trash to get my attention.  Did she miss, or nail it?  Hmmm.