the birthday girl

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Once upon a time, on this day which is very nearly departed, a woman gave birth to a baby girl. The woman's name was Mumsy, and lo, the baby girl was me. What the woman, whose name was Mumsy, didn't know was that very many years later, at the exact moment she expelled the baby girl, who was me, from her body, that baby girl would be having her purulent pu$$y flushed at the vet. Yes, my Qyzy has a wound {an insect bite? A bramble scratch? Who knows ...} on his head. It became infected and developed into a beautiful pus-filled abscess, so off to the animal doctor we trotted. Flushed, stuffed with antibiotics and sent home with two weeks worth of antibiotics in tablet form. And a Cone of Shame but I don't have the heart to put it on him, although I will if it becomes apparent I need to. Poor little fellow ... he costs us oodles of pennies. It's a good job we love him, really. I also did lots of gardening and now have the beginnings of a tranquil, country-cottage, zen-like flower bed where the pond once festered. Then, after a wonderfully deserved afternoon nap, I drank raspberry and pomegranate vodka-cider, ate cheesecake and opened presents. Purrfect.