Well, dad called our doctor and he put me on a new anxiety medication. The Klonopin just wasn’t doing the trick. I have to take it three times a day. I am going to pick up the pills on my way back from the Humane Society today as the prescription is filled and ready to go.
“Maybe this will give you some peace,” my father told me of my tortured soul.
I am excited to try them and to see if they help. I think I am the only person on Earth thrilled at getting even more crazy meds.
I was stir crazy late in the evening last night and visited with my father to calm down. I called it grounding myself. He cooked us breakfast for supper and it was such a treat. I adore and love breakfast for supper. We had scrambled eggs, bacon, and heat and serve biscuits.
Tracey got the wildcat to eat out of her hand and she was thrilled today. Normally, he would hiss and cower in the back of his cage. This cat is going to take some serious rehabilitation if it is going to be adopted. Tracy is up to the task, though. She oozes with sweetness and trustworthiness,
Little Man got back from the Vet this morning as well and he looks like a new dog without that hideous tumor on his loin. The tumor was benign. I peeled back the bandages and he has quite a few stiches. I have a mind to adopt this dog if Old Fuss and Feathers wouldn’t have a hissy fit. I might just do it anyway come hell or high water.
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