Tarot, apparently.
Aug. 23rd, 2007 10:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mad_andy*Sigh*
Just my luck.
But interesting, considering what's been going on.
So there was the week of nights. Which was a tough one.
And have I mentioned the ferret? Probably not. I has a ferret.
Another bloody ferret.
I love ferrets. I do. very much. They're mental and they're fun and they're fucking hard work, which is why I'm down to two neutered boys and I'm very happy with that. They get looked after properly and I don't get stressed with trying to deal with more lively beasties than I can cope with.
So. The day before the Zico gig in York I'm visiting some old friends with Slay near Farnborough, where I was once an engineering apprentice. Moi and Jas are friends from then - back in '89, and they're still talking to me, so I must be doing something right - and we're having a very nice time when my phone rings.
It's the surgery. WTF?, I think.
Some guy has wandered in, and asked if the nurse who has ferrets still works there. Ye-es, says the nurse on reception, rather cautiously. he then unrolls this Story Of Sob whereby he's going into temporary accomodation and cannot take the beloved pet ferret with him and he doesn't know what he's going to do. He wanted to ask the nurse with the ferrets if she knew of someone that could look after said ferret, or even find it in her heart to look after it herself.
You can see what's coming, can't you?
Well. She rang me and I rang him. Female ferret. Couple of years old. Not spayed. Good with other ferrets. Only pet, much loved and he's at his wit's end.
From this I assume that she's a family pet, and although not spayed will have been somehow brought out of season. By hormone injection or vasectomised hob, hell, even having a litter. Seemed reasonable - so like an idiot I never asked.
The guy all but begged. Just for a week, he promised, ten days at most, so I gave in. And then he said he'd be round as soon as possible--
Whoa, hold on there hoss. I'm out of town. Then I get pleas, he has to move very soon, desperate, blah blah. OK, fine, you call the vets and get them to hold her until I'm back later tonight - MUCH later tonight. And that, as far as I was concerned, was that; I'd made the assumption (being as she was much loved pet etc etc) that I would find a nice polished up little girl, a list of food preferences, contact numbers, favourite toy, all the usual. Yeah?
Nope. As soon as I opened the surgery door I got a powerful pong of ferret - not just an unspayed jill, but roaring in heat. And had been since the spring, from the look of her; not just the very yellow coat of an animal with the strong skin secretions of prolonged heat, but also a thinning coat (hormone induced alopecia, by the textbook), poor body weight, pale gums and all that malarkey.
She'd never been brought out of season at all, this year or last. If she isn't spayed this year she'll die of hormone-induced leukaemia by midsummer, I'd put money on it. And although there was indeed a container of food, a leash, and an exercise ball (which, when she was put in it, she had no idea what to do with - so hardly a favoured toy), there was nothing else. No piece of paper, no contact number, not even her name.
I began to think I'd been had.
Sure enough, eleven days later... not so much as a squeak from the owner. The number I'd called him on before was from his old house - line now disconnected. As far as I'm concerned, she's effectively been abandoned; seven more days - although legally I can do whatever I damn well please, I reckon the standard seven days is only fair - and that's it. She's going to find herself off to the vet, spayed, sorted, and rehomed.
I don't need another ferret, I don't want another ferret, and I'm exceedingly annoyed that I've been used like this. And people wonder why I don't get involved in rescue/rehoming anymore.
*Snort*
Anyway, she's well and bright and the boys like her, so at least that's all without drama!
As for the snakes, well, Sally is still AWOL despite ripping the bedroom apart to find her. She could be anywhere, but bizarrely I'm not too worried; lost snakes have a tendency to show up again where you least expect it. Her house is all set up and waiting for her return, anyway.
Zico and Olive the bull snakes are home, in temporary accomodation until my snake rack is built. It's lovely to have them home!
So let me see. The lemmings have another litter, the previous litter are still with them so when the new lot are ready to leave that'll be eleven babies to head for the shop looking for new homes. The pygmy mice are breeding at an astonishing rate; after a slow start I've now got quite a respectable colony! They're amazing, and so tiny it's unreal - I caught three youngsters this morning and took them up the shop, so that's all three species that I've bred now for sale as pets. Good feeling, that.
I've got another litter of bald mice - born today, I think - and my other female mouse is either about to give birth or explode. Poor girl! As usual Roger is looking after the babies while Gertrude bums around the rotastak having a good time. *Snort* Weird animals.
Anyway. Worked at the shop yesterday - Hell Wednesday is no fun at all on two hour's sleep - then today Chris and I had another jolly down to Cambridgeshire to the rodent breeders to pick up some more tortoises. Thing was, his satnav dropped dead as we left Abingdon and mine went flat near the M1 - and of course, we couldn't recharge them because we were in his mini which has no cigarette lighter to plug into.
Fucking good job I can read a map, that's all I can say.
So. Spent all day on the road in a mini. Then another couple of hours sorting stuff at the shop. Dosed the saturday girl's poorly corn snake with a proprietary flagellate treatment - it's thin and weak, a perfect example of why you should never buy anything because you feel sorry for it - and found out that I'm a dab hand at worming corn snakes.
Well, they don't have four paws full of razors trying to rip your head off while you're dosing them. The average snake has nothing on a domestic shorthair in a strop.
The guy who owns the wholesalers very kindly let us take some fresh-laid painted quail eggs (he doesn't incubate them, so they would just go to waste), and despite the fact that Chris assured me that eggs that size would be part of rat and corn snake's diet in the wild Doris, Tyson, Sam and Mojo have regarded them with deep suspicion. And ignored them. So I gave one of them to Rosie - the young white sided black rat - and she either has a more adventurous palate or is damn hungry, cos she's wolfed it down. Very weird to see and egg-sized bulge in the middle of her slender form!
Although when kneeling to fetch one of said eggs from the floor of one of the quail cages I knelt in something vile. My trousers are in the wash as we speak because man, did they pong.
What else. Oh yeah, Chris finally persuaded me to take the non-feeding black rat snake hatchling home with me yesterday. See, some woman had returned her snake and hatchling setup, so he said well, the snake is going back up for sale but you might as well take the set up, yes all of it, you're welcome, oh and that black rat is for the chop if it doesn't feed.
*Snort*
Anyway. As luck would have it the pygmy mice had just dropped another load of bbabies right in front of the glass. Which considering how secretive they normally are is weird, but there you go.
No, I didn't give the snake a live pink!
However, I did give it one that had died and been booted out of the nest. And whether it was because of the size or the... freshness, so to speak... the little black rat has eaten, so I'm happy. And although a pygmy pink won't keep it going long, it might be just what it needs to get it going.
Slay hasn't noticed the additional snake yet, and I ain't telling him about it.
Oh. And!
I've got a commission to paint up a leather jacket. I'm well chuffed, but also nervous as hell; it's a white leather jacket, so no cockups because they'll stand out like a boil on the backside of the moon. And she wants tribal down the sleeve - arrrrrgh - and the Zico Chain album cover on the back. I know I can do it (in theory) but I'm still nervous.
Trouble is, she wants it ASAP so might be dropping it off Tuesday - which means I'll be doing it either in the mornings after my night shift or the afternoons before it. Argggh.
And for some weird reason, Zico Chain have added me to their 'top friends' list on MySpace. Eh? Why?
Eh, rockstars. Who knows why they do the things they do - although I would be lying if I said I wasn't flattered, because I am. Just confused, is all!
Anyway, while I've been writing this long-ass ramble about the delightful weirdness that makes up my life, I have done several things:
Made and drunk a cup of tea.
Smoked four cigarettes.
fed the bull snakes.
AND
Put Sally back in her house. :D Yup, Slay heard one of the cats pouncing on a sheet of newspaper under the radiator in the dining room (bless laminate flooring), went to have a look and bingo. :D One rather bemused little snake.
Perfect end to an exhausting day!
Just my luck.
You are The Lovers
Motive, power, and action, arising from Inspiration and Impulse.
The Lovers represents intuition and inspiration. Very often a choice needs to be made.
Originally, this card was called just LOVE. And that's actually more apt than "Lovers." Love follows in this sequence of growth and maturity. And, coming after the Emperor, who is about control, it is a radical change in perspective. LOVE is a force that makes you choose and decide for reasons you often can't understand; it makes you surrender control to a higher power. And that is what this card is all about. Finding something or someone who is so much a part of yourself, so perfectly attuned to you and you to them, that you cannot, dare not resist. This card indicates that the you have or will come across a person, career, challenge or thing that you will fall in love with. You will know instinctively that you must have this, even if it means diverging from your chosen path. No matter the difficulties, without it you will never be complete.
What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.
But interesting, considering what's been going on.
So there was the week of nights. Which was a tough one.
And have I mentioned the ferret? Probably not. I has a ferret.
Another bloody ferret.
I love ferrets. I do. very much. They're mental and they're fun and they're fucking hard work, which is why I'm down to two neutered boys and I'm very happy with that. They get looked after properly and I don't get stressed with trying to deal with more lively beasties than I can cope with.
So. The day before the Zico gig in York I'm visiting some old friends with Slay near Farnborough, where I was once an engineering apprentice. Moi and Jas are friends from then - back in '89, and they're still talking to me, so I must be doing something right - and we're having a very nice time when my phone rings.
It's the surgery. WTF?, I think.
Some guy has wandered in, and asked if the nurse who has ferrets still works there. Ye-es, says the nurse on reception, rather cautiously. he then unrolls this Story Of Sob whereby he's going into temporary accomodation and cannot take the beloved pet ferret with him and he doesn't know what he's going to do. He wanted to ask the nurse with the ferrets if she knew of someone that could look after said ferret, or even find it in her heart to look after it herself.
You can see what's coming, can't you?
Well. She rang me and I rang him. Female ferret. Couple of years old. Not spayed. Good with other ferrets. Only pet, much loved and he's at his wit's end.
From this I assume that she's a family pet, and although not spayed will have been somehow brought out of season. By hormone injection or vasectomised hob, hell, even having a litter. Seemed reasonable - so like an idiot I never asked.
The guy all but begged. Just for a week, he promised, ten days at most, so I gave in. And then he said he'd be round as soon as possible--
Whoa, hold on there hoss. I'm out of town. Then I get pleas, he has to move very soon, desperate, blah blah. OK, fine, you call the vets and get them to hold her until I'm back later tonight - MUCH later tonight. And that, as far as I was concerned, was that; I'd made the assumption (being as she was much loved pet etc etc) that I would find a nice polished up little girl, a list of food preferences, contact numbers, favourite toy, all the usual. Yeah?
Nope. As soon as I opened the surgery door I got a powerful pong of ferret - not just an unspayed jill, but roaring in heat. And had been since the spring, from the look of her; not just the very yellow coat of an animal with the strong skin secretions of prolonged heat, but also a thinning coat (hormone induced alopecia, by the textbook), poor body weight, pale gums and all that malarkey.
She'd never been brought out of season at all, this year or last. If she isn't spayed this year she'll die of hormone-induced leukaemia by midsummer, I'd put money on it. And although there was indeed a container of food, a leash, and an exercise ball (which, when she was put in it, she had no idea what to do with - so hardly a favoured toy), there was nothing else. No piece of paper, no contact number, not even her name.
I began to think I'd been had.
Sure enough, eleven days later... not so much as a squeak from the owner. The number I'd called him on before was from his old house - line now disconnected. As far as I'm concerned, she's effectively been abandoned; seven more days - although legally I can do whatever I damn well please, I reckon the standard seven days is only fair - and that's it. She's going to find herself off to the vet, spayed, sorted, and rehomed.
I don't need another ferret, I don't want another ferret, and I'm exceedingly annoyed that I've been used like this. And people wonder why I don't get involved in rescue/rehoming anymore.
*Snort*
Anyway, she's well and bright and the boys like her, so at least that's all without drama!
As for the snakes, well, Sally is still AWOL despite ripping the bedroom apart to find her. She could be anywhere, but bizarrely I'm not too worried; lost snakes have a tendency to show up again where you least expect it. Her house is all set up and waiting for her return, anyway.
Zico and Olive the bull snakes are home, in temporary accomodation until my snake rack is built. It's lovely to have them home!
So let me see. The lemmings have another litter, the previous litter are still with them so when the new lot are ready to leave that'll be eleven babies to head for the shop looking for new homes. The pygmy mice are breeding at an astonishing rate; after a slow start I've now got quite a respectable colony! They're amazing, and so tiny it's unreal - I caught three youngsters this morning and took them up the shop, so that's all three species that I've bred now for sale as pets. Good feeling, that.
I've got another litter of bald mice - born today, I think - and my other female mouse is either about to give birth or explode. Poor girl! As usual Roger is looking after the babies while Gertrude bums around the rotastak having a good time. *Snort* Weird animals.
Anyway. Worked at the shop yesterday - Hell Wednesday is no fun at all on two hour's sleep - then today Chris and I had another jolly down to Cambridgeshire to the rodent breeders to pick up some more tortoises. Thing was, his satnav dropped dead as we left Abingdon and mine went flat near the M1 - and of course, we couldn't recharge them because we were in his mini which has no cigarette lighter to plug into.
Fucking good job I can read a map, that's all I can say.
So. Spent all day on the road in a mini. Then another couple of hours sorting stuff at the shop. Dosed the saturday girl's poorly corn snake with a proprietary flagellate treatment - it's thin and weak, a perfect example of why you should never buy anything because you feel sorry for it - and found out that I'm a dab hand at worming corn snakes.
Well, they don't have four paws full of razors trying to rip your head off while you're dosing them. The average snake has nothing on a domestic shorthair in a strop.
The guy who owns the wholesalers very kindly let us take some fresh-laid painted quail eggs (he doesn't incubate them, so they would just go to waste), and despite the fact that Chris assured me that eggs that size would be part of rat and corn snake's diet in the wild Doris, Tyson, Sam and Mojo have regarded them with deep suspicion. And ignored them. So I gave one of them to Rosie - the young white sided black rat - and she either has a more adventurous palate or is damn hungry, cos she's wolfed it down. Very weird to see and egg-sized bulge in the middle of her slender form!
Although when kneeling to fetch one of said eggs from the floor of one of the quail cages I knelt in something vile. My trousers are in the wash as we speak because man, did they pong.
What else. Oh yeah, Chris finally persuaded me to take the non-feeding black rat snake hatchling home with me yesterday. See, some woman had returned her snake and hatchling setup, so he said well, the snake is going back up for sale but you might as well take the set up, yes all of it, you're welcome, oh and that black rat is for the chop if it doesn't feed.
*Snort*
Anyway. As luck would have it the pygmy mice had just dropped another load of bbabies right in front of the glass. Which considering how secretive they normally are is weird, but there you go.
No, I didn't give the snake a live pink!
However, I did give it one that had died and been booted out of the nest. And whether it was because of the size or the... freshness, so to speak... the little black rat has eaten, so I'm happy. And although a pygmy pink won't keep it going long, it might be just what it needs to get it going.
Slay hasn't noticed the additional snake yet, and I ain't telling him about it.
Oh. And!
I've got a commission to paint up a leather jacket. I'm well chuffed, but also nervous as hell; it's a white leather jacket, so no cockups because they'll stand out like a boil on the backside of the moon. And she wants tribal down the sleeve - arrrrrgh - and the Zico Chain album cover on the back. I know I can do it (in theory) but I'm still nervous.
Trouble is, she wants it ASAP so might be dropping it off Tuesday - which means I'll be doing it either in the mornings after my night shift or the afternoons before it. Argggh.
And for some weird reason, Zico Chain have added me to their 'top friends' list on MySpace. Eh? Why?
Eh, rockstars. Who knows why they do the things they do - although I would be lying if I said I wasn't flattered, because I am. Just confused, is all!
Anyway, while I've been writing this long-ass ramble about the delightful weirdness that makes up my life, I have done several things:
Made and drunk a cup of tea.
Smoked four cigarettes.
fed the bull snakes.
AND
Put Sally back in her house. :D Yup, Slay heard one of the cats pouncing on a sheet of newspaper under the radiator in the dining room (bless laminate flooring), went to have a look and bingo. :D One rather bemused little snake.
Perfect end to an exhausting day!
