On dinner break--it's just past five here, and I have to go back to hell--erm, I mean the office, in about 40 minutes, and work until 9. Lovely 11 hour day--well, really, 10 and a half, as they don't pay me for my half-hour lunch break. I fiddled with my work hours a bit, managed to leave an hour early--and will get back an hour early. This is so I can get to the ER a bit sooner, after 9, so hopefully I won't be hanging around that dreadful place till three in the morning or whatever.
Made a so-so fast dinner of half-arsed potato salad and fried a hamburger. Not great, but it'll stick to my ribs for a while. Usually I try to make my potato salad like mum did, but tonight, there just wasn't time to fuss, so I just peeled the couple of potatoes I boiled this morning, and sliced them up in a very haphazard fashion, threw in some onion power and some mayo, mixed it together, slapped my burger on a bun, popped open a can of Coke, and--voila, dinner is served.
Oh, that was exciting reading, ey? 
So, now, I'm going to take Charlie out on the balcony for ten minutes to chill--he just adores going out there, and I love indulging him. He's missing his "dad" so. That was my 18 year old cat--and best friend, Red, who I'd put to sleep in November. Red wasn't his real dad--tho' they looked very much alike.
Charlie's dad was a feral kitten that mum had adopted, a tempermental but also loving buff coloured cat, named "Julius Claudius Augustus Caesar--Caesar for short." And he lived up to his name--thought he owned the world. He was later hit by a car and had to be put not--not a great memory, for me, that drive to the vets. Anyway, Red was a loner, wasn't mean to the other cats, just didn't like company--he thought he was a person, I think. Then Charile, one day, decided to adopt Red--and eventually his persistance paid off, Red finally gave in and, while, Red still wasn't crazy about Charlie, he tolerated him enough to let Charile sleep with him, which was a first. For some odd reason, Charlie doted on the elderly Red. So when Red died, Charlie just went into himself and pouted. Six months later, I'm getting him to respond to me, but he's still somewhat sad and lonely, sometimes--tho' my attentions are starting to pay off, like going onto the balcony with him, and playing with and petting him.
Mum loved Caesar---the day she went to adopt a kitten at the shelter, she stopped in front of his cage. He looked at her, put his paws up on the bars, and literally screamed at her, "get me outta' here!" Mum turned away, and drove home about a half mile--before changing her mind and driving back. Caesar was her baby, from then on--tho' he could be dangerously tempermental, it turned out, lashing out and cutter her once, with his claws--she bled so bad, I had to put a temporary tornequet on her and summon the emergency squad. We were going to have him put down, when he ran across the road and was hit. The two women stopped--then drove off, without any offer of assaistance to me. It was...horrible. I've had to do a lot of hard things, in my life, and dealing with a dying cat, suffering terribly--that's definitely in the top ten. It took over an hour to finally get him to the vet--Caesar crying pitifully every inch of the way, and me, bawling away beside him, every inch of the way.
Not a fun memory, that.
Well, won't be online again 'till the wee hours. Take care all--I'll get you know what's what, later. Cheers.
A CAT LIKE CAESAR
