I’m taking Slate to the vet after work, so they can do a blood draw and determine just what her problem is, and then we can decide what to do, which I fear will be the vet insisting that surgery is the way to go.

Ugh.

But for now know that I get to drive across town with the cat who has not yet gotten the message that when in the car the driver’s lap is not the place to be. Luckily, we will be driving neither far, nor fast. (No, the solution is NOT a cat carrier. Cat carriers make Slate violently ill. Besides, normally Michael is also in the car with the cats, so this is just a one time thing since Michael has class.)

Did I mention that she’ll talk the entire trip? She really likes the windows and comments upon everything she sees. Loudly.

At least I get to leave work half an hour early!