Archie the meerkat has won a reprieve!
Last night, apparently, an anonymous phone call (hehehe) was made to Archie's former owner, to let him know what his idiot tenant had done, and that because of the rehab centre's legal standing with nature conservation authorities, we would be unable to defy the confiscation by the State Vet. Some advice was given on possible action that could be taken by him, even if we couldn't act openly.
This morning, the owner contacted all parties, and then spent the day with Archie before the State Vet came to the centre to assess Archie. He passed the inspection with honours...the Vet said that it was absolutely impossible for him to be rabid. He decided that just to err on the side of caution, Archie should spend ten days at the centre being monitored, as we have the knowledge to judge whether his behaviour is normal for a meerkat. And after that, he will go back to his owner. Because he had a shattered pelvis as a youngster which was pinned surgically by an expert vet, we were hesitant about his release potential - generally, nothing is released with any kind of implant that could migrate and cause further problems for the animal. I'm not sure what plans have been made in terms of the bitee and Archie meeting again. But I think all of us involved with the centre are very relieved tonight.
Our policy involves euthanasia for animals that are not releasable, but as far as I know, we have never been put in a position of having to euthanase a healthy animal without everything in our power being done to find a solution. The only other meerkat incident that was similar was Twiggy, whose captivity (as a pet) had resulted in semi-psychosis. She was integrated into a group, where she became alpha female, and while still in our care, where food was provided daily, she coped reasonably. Although she did manage to bite almost everyone who went in the enclosure except for Bosslady - Twiggy regarded Bosslady as dominant, and obeyed her. When the group was being hacked out in the desert though, and the survival of the whole tribe depended on them functioning as a team, Twiggy became rampantly psychotic and paranoid, and her behaviour prevented the group from foraging properly. Eventually, she had to be removed from the group, and Bosslady had the unenviable task of driving 13 hours to get to the site just to euthanase what (on her own again with people) was by then a submissive and affectionate meerkat.
That was the best bit of the day.
The worst is that Duckbuddy and I are having a kind of fight. Has to be labelled "kind of" because she doesn't talk on the phone, so daily conversations are carried out by sms. I know... it's weird, but she has a whole lot more hangups than that as well. Makes me look like the life and soul of the party. So today's bit started when she nagged about when we are going to have coffee, and I just figured that I am tired of always being the one who has to go out of my way to meet her at one of two places, both within a kilometre of her house.
She has previously told me that she hates it when I bring baby birds with, and that "other people" are upset by it. Nobody has ever even hinted to me that they don't like it - quite the reverse. Especially if they have kids, most people want to have a closer look, to hold a baby, and to show their kids what baby birds look like.
So when she wanted me to make time tomorrow, I explained that I couldn't because of birds. I see p-doc tomorrow at 11h00, just down the road from her house, but it will take me 30 mins to get there, 30 mins back, 30 mins with him, and more time if he is running late. So it's at least 90 mins to go see him, which means that I have to take 3 thrushes, 1 bulbul, 2 sparrows, 1 mynah and a wagtail. These have to be caged in at least 2 different baskets (minimum), and if I can't get covered parking, they all have to go with me to p-doc. He likes birds, and doesn't mind if they come with me, as long as they behave while I am seeing him. If I allow for extra time to have coffee, I would also have to take another 2 mynahs, 3 crested barbets and a pigeon. Means at least 4 baskets, and some very noisy birds. Can't manage that.
So Duckbuddy started doing the don't hate me and you don't understand all my social phobias and anxiety issues and and and. I DO understand them, I've been f**king making allowances for them for a year now, since I've known her. But today was just too much. When I can't go all the way there to see her because of bird-feeding schedules, I keep suggesting that we meet halfway. Or that she comes to my house. In over a year of being friends she has never come here. I only went to her house for the first time about 3 months ago. Ok, I don't like bringing people here that much either. She invokes having to fetch her daughter from play group at 12 as a reason why she can't come anywhere closer to where I live. I'm not expecting miracles, but every now and then it would be nice if she would make some compromises. She IS socially phobic, but she manages to do a whole bunch of other things that involve her going out and seeing people. Just not for me.
Tried to tell her some of that in response to her moans today. Just got told that p-doc understands all about her problems, and I don't. We see same p-doc, by the way. One of the other things she is paranoid about is him finding out that we are friends. Admittedly, we do talk about him, which we probably shouldn't, but I don't think he'd give a toss if he knew that we know each other. Besides, we were in hospital together last year anyway, and (I sneaked a peek at my chart once. OK, more than once...) and the notes from my hourly suicide watch bit kept saying that 'patient was talking to patient DB', so he probably knows from then anyway.
Actually make that 'knew' - his memory is kind of spotty, probably because there are three million thoughts in his mind at any time and unimportant factoids get turfed quite fast. Sort of relevant ones too, sometimes. Last week he looked at his notes from the previous week, muttered to himself a bit, and then asked me what he had been thinking of doing i.r.o. meds when he wrote notes, because he couldn't remember what his cryptic messages were about!
So now DB tells me that I hate her. I said let's rather leave off talking about this for tonight. She says that I'll still hate her tomorrow and that I don't understand her anxiety. I don't hate her. Maybe I don't understand, because she manages to cope with it well enough to do everything she wants to do, from what she tells me. Maybe I am just a miserable old bitch anyway. I am so apathetic and devoid of energy that to me, any activity that requires that I leave the house, even if it is for half an hour, is a complete mission. I move so slowly getting ready, then rush to whatever it is, and am exhausted by the time I get home. Mostly I don't do half of what I am planning on doing, because I am just wiped out by being places and having to talk and be the happy walking-talking-jcat-doll. All smiley and capable on the outside. Lost and drowning within.
lots of little stars where my description of yesterdays crappy day used to be. Deleted on request.
Lots of bits put back, and little stars deleted. It's my life, my blog, no-one I know personally except DB actually knows the blogname. Not even t-doc. Reason I primarily didn't want to give DB the address when she first started asking for it was so that I could write freely. T-doc says that's cool for me to not want anyone in realtime to connect jcat the real life asshole and jcat the online version.