Azar finally got to see the vet today, and it turned out better that I was there so I’m glad he didn’t have to go while I was in Málaga. Of course it’s always so traumatic taking cats to the vet’s and so I woke up at 5am and started fretting. Idiot. And Azar, being the clever thing that he is, knew as soon as he wasn’t given any breakfast that Something Was Up and immediately hid under the bed. Anyhow, Nog came over to help around 9 o’clock and somehow I got Azar into the carrier, and off we went.
From the second he was put inside the carrier Azar started screaming his head off and, once out of the apartment, it got so bad that everyone we passed in the street, whole groups of people, stopped to see what was making such a racket. We were lucky to find a taxi driver to used to have cats and didn’t mind, and he also got us to Yolanda’s in record time.
This photo was taken on the way there, with me stroking Azar under the chin in an effort to try and get him to shut the fuck up… awww.
Anyhow, once at the vet’s he was good as gold, let Yolanda poke and prod him pretty much everywhere, and didn’t even put up too much fuss about getting blood drawn. Won’t get the test results back for a couple of days, but the general impression is that Azar is doing pretty well for his age. I thought his last check-up had been about a year ago but I’d completely forgotten about his visit last January when he also had a blood test done. Well, at least we’ll see if much has changed in the last eight months.
Azar was a lot calmer on the way home and, once there, had a nice late breakfast, a big drink of water and got straight back “on the job” doing typical cat stuff, as you can see (if it had been dark laundry then it would have been a job for Loki).
So he’s going to need extra care, and help with his digestion/elimination problems. But otherwise he seems to be doing just fine.
On Monday evening I had a bit of a dodgy stomach, including a touch of diarrhea, but this does happen from time to time when you are a semi-colon. The next day I went out on that crazy lunchtime gourmet tapas tour, which I know couldn’t have helped matters. In fact, I went to bed that evening very early after having just a slice of melon thinking I’d feel better after a good night’s sleep. Yesterday I felt weakish but still made myself go to the gym because I’d missed ten days, what with going to Málaga and all. Stupid! I could only manage a bit of melon for lunch and had started to get cramping, which happened just before every “dire rear” episode. Unfortunately, I had a tapas tour booked last night and, although I really didn’t feel like I could do it, I went because a) I’m responsible like that and b) it was only a two-hour tour, so I thought I could handle it. I just nibbled on a couple of things and generally took things easy, but didn’t end up getting home until midnight – four hours later!
Ever since I found out I’d be going to Málaga (I leave tomorrow morning and come back on Friday) I’ve been a nervous wreck about 


