the patron saint of veterinarians is after me

I was feeling pretty damned pleased with myself for saving a chicken and some money with my DIY emergency medical skills, and then we came home yesterday to discover the cat's eyeballs had turned grey and cloudy. My veterinary skills start and end with sticking my fingers in things, and that didn't seem likely to help the situation at all, so we shoved the cat in a carrier and drove to the vet.

"There is pus accumulating inside his eyes," the vet said, giving him a shot in the butt.

Did you know that cats can get infections that fill their eyeballs with pus? I did not know this. I did not want to know this. Those dog anal glands are starting to look more and more manageable these days.

I was sent home with a $180 bottle of eye drops and instructions to administer them 4 times a day for a week. Except I am not home 4 times a day. I realized I was going to have to forfeit my precious lunch break illustration time while I drove back and forth from work in the middle of the day to chase a cat - and then the school called. "Your kid threw up all over the cafeteria floor, he needs to go home."

CHICKENS. CATS. CHILDREN.

So the good news is that I got my illustration time after all, and I'm home to fight with the cat over eye drops.

Three mishaps is the magic number, right? I have paid my penance to the gods of pus and vomit and chicken butts. Looking forward to hearing from the gods of $5 bills found on the ground and surprise candy in jacket pockets, instead.

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Related, I stayed up late the other night to decompress with actual paper and pencils/pens. Spent the whole time tapping "undo" and trying to span my fingers to zoom in. Maintaining brain connections is hard.