mad_andy

OK, just time for a few things before I fall on my face and die for a few hours:

~Piercings ache, but are settling down nicely. Sleeping on my right side is a dead loss, though.

~Tattoo on thigh is infected and unpleasant and very painful indeed. This is extremely embarrassing.

~I have decided to hand my notice in on thursday.

~This working seven days a week thing is for the birds, but I'm determined to stick it out. I want to prove to Chris, the vets and myself that I'm dedicated enough to do the tattoo thing.

~Axl's behavious is becoming so horrible I'm beginning to seriously think about putting him down.

~I'm tired.

Well. Like a fucking knob I got guilt-tripped into doing another seven nights.

One down, six to go.

Not too bad, as nights go; two post pyo dogs, both doing well (although I would have been happier if one of them would just EAT, dammit!). Three cats, one boarding (who bites, bastard), one blocked tom and a collapsed diabetic. *Eyes that one with deep suspicion* Although the boss reckons there's something funky going on with it. Was able to take her temperature last night - it's the one beauty of collapsed animals, there's no arguing about putting thermometers where the sun Doth Not Shine - but after a night on the fluids she must be feeling better, because she told me exactly where I could put my thermometer and backed it up with teeth and claws.

So I waited 'till the day nurse got there and took it anyway. Don't mess with me, pusskin, 'cos when I have a thermometer in my hand and I'm on a mission you are going to lose. Bwahahaha.

Took Axl for a walk on the way home and he was so pleased at being able to blast full pelt round the park he almost ran straight into the fence, managing to stop quick enough to just wallop himself and not actually break his neck. Stupid dog.

Oh well. Off to bed for a few then up again and back to work.

Somebody remind me why I do this shit to myself...