Had to take Little Egypt to the vet for dental surgery today. I sat on one of (hideously nasty-looking) chairs in the vet’s office, the poor, trapped little furball crying in the box on the (hideously nasty-looking) chair next to me, talking to her and petting her through the holes, for about 20 minutes until the receptionist said, “You know, you can just leave her here.” Leave her there? Oh, dear, I guess that’s what I have to do. So I put the carrier containing my poor, trapped, crying little darling on the counter and left. I felt a little queasy, perhaps more emotionally than physically. Last time I had surgery, my mother didn’t just drop me off at the receptionist’s desk and then leave.

Last time I had surgery, I don’t remember being as nervous as I was bringing Little Egypt in.

Of course now, it’s kinda funny, watching her stagger around the apartment, still a little bit stoned.

Ooh, and I get to do the whole thing over again tomorrow with Hercules … turn the volume up to eleven …