You Talking To Me?
About 10 months ago or so I got a little ill. Lethargic, couldn't wake up, no apetite, didn't even want a treat. My eyes were dreary and I felt miserable. Cowboy was a mess ... by my bedside, praying and making deals with God that he'd change his ways. If it wasn't for my high fever I swear I would have kitty slapped him and told'em "Get a grip!" He truly has no life. The mobile vet came by and we learned it was an abscessed sore. I soon was back to scurrying about and he soon was back to his ways.
That introduction to say the mobile vet sent me a note the other day saying it's time for a checkup. It's actually a rare occasion for me to get mail. It was exciting. With BET's help I've sent Cowboy cards and I've been known to drop notes here and there, but I receive little. Regardless, I'm still not convinced that vet was really talking to me. There are other Eponines, you know. Checkup, schmeckup.
2 Comments:
Seriously, get the check up. We're not saying you have to go as often as we do, or become known by name at Mission Med Vet (a la us), but go. Get a clean bill of health. You don't want to use up one of those 9 lives.
Oh, you three are right. Thanks for the prodding. You boys certainly are the voice of reason in my life.
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