still is though...

Took mynah to have his orthopedic shoes replaced, and had long chat to GirlVet about the Big Dog. She has given me meds for him for the weekend, which will hopefully boost him enough so that we have a great time. Bosslady phoned to find out how he's doing, with lots of good advice about clearing my mind of all the bad thoughts about him dying, so that he knows it's OK, and that he is free to move on peacefully. I will try my best to be positive for him. To give him just a small amount of the love and care he has given me.

I know it doesn't help that I still feel so angry and hurt about the way NewVet acted yesterday. He phoned at lunchtime today, all chirpy, 'so when shall I come see Whiz'. All I could say is don't bother. Dr C phoned while I was with t-doc, left a message asking me to call and let her know how Whiz was doing. I called back, just to get an email address, and sent her a mail saying why I'm going to be changing vets. She's great. I've always liked and trusted her. And the animals do as well, which is more important. But I can't see myself walking in there and dealing with NewVet without prejudice about how he chose to handle this. His lack of care for my boy dog is worst of all. Because of the rehab work, I've dealt on a semi-professional level with him since he started at the practice, about bird care and treatment. Vets here get about 2 weeks of bird training in 7 years, so it's not being pretentious when I say that. I know zip about real vet things. But after 3 years I can assess a bird for basic injuries as well as most vets, I can strap wings and splint legs - only because I do it regularly. So yeah, there's a bit of hurt feelings here as well. That doesn't make me proud. It's mostly about my boy, though, and I don't know if I can forgive him for that.

That's future though. For now I just need to be there with all the love and mental support that the Big Guy needs to help him.

I saw t-doc and just cried. Not only about losing Whiz, but about everything else. I guess one thing about having to euthanase Whiz is that it's one less of my babies to decide about. I know that other people could give them good homes - better homes - but leaving them and not knowing that they'd be OK really worries me.

I am so apathetic and disorganised anyway that getting my life in order seems to get further away every day. I know it's really dumb, but I figure that if you are going to off yourself, it's obligatory to at least tidy up a bit. And I'm just drowning in doing that. Every time I achieve one task, I find that another ten have sprung up like weeds. Sometimes it's tempting to just go for it anyway, knowing that it would take someone competent about half a day to tidy up the loose ends it's taking me months to do.