It's a Blogger's World.

Most of my (6) readers don't have blogs. Or at least, don't have blogs that they obsessively actively write in on a regular basis (ahem, you know who you are. tsk, tsk.).

I have been writing on this thing for nearly a year (Yay! for celebrating TWO birthdays a year!) and have amassed more than 140 entries. That's pretty massive, at least for me. The girl who tends to get really excited about a new project only to Oh! that looks like fun. (Read: ADD)

Over the last few months I've had absolutely nada to do some extra time on my hands and have been exploring other blogs. I have always found people's thoughts and opinions interesting, so reading other people's public inner monologues is my idea of Super Fun.

I don't search out any of the blogs I read. It all started for me with Laurie at Crazy Aunt Pearl. She wrote a book that is simply hilarious called Drunk, Divorced and Covered with Cat Hair. I read her blog rather religiously for some time before venturing into the world of The Others.

From Aunt Purl, I found a sassy chick named Tia who has a seriously wacky sense of humor that I adore at Clever Girl Goes Blog. Through Tia I was introduced to Jamie at Oh! How Lovely!, whose constant updates of Project Runway keep me in the loop and whose post Trying put into words things I couldn't.

Through Jamie I found what has to be thus far one of my Top 5 (to The Others, please note the number of blogs mentioned actually can be counted on one hand, thus that was NOT a dig at your site!) and most recently added blog-read addiction. It's like I'm....mmmagic! is a cleverly written blog that has almost made me pee my pants numerous times. Thank heavens for my incredibly well-trained sympathetic pelvic nerves.

In perusing these various sites, I've come to feel that my site is, well, a bit...bland. Oh, the content is alright (if I say so myself...and if I stay away from the Basket Full O Crazy. and wine.). But the layout leaves something to be desired. I mean, really kids: I'm a freakin interior designer. My site should be Bling! and Super Colorful and reflect the Awesomely Cool Person that I am.

Wow. I think that was the most self-centered thing I've said in a long time. Felt nice.

Anywho, keep on the lookout for my new layout coming in [insert lead time on ordered layout here]. Oh please, just check back every once in a while, K? I promise Good Things. The end of April is my new New Year. And it's gonna be a damn sight better than last year. I hope promise.

Oh, and have you noticed my new fancy for the strikethrough HTML? Yeah, I'm a pro. Feel free to envy.

(I'm not really a pro. I stole borrowed was inspired for the idea from The Bloggess. Who I basically worship. So I hope she won't mind.)

In Progress.

The days are passing swiftly as I prepare for yet again another immigration nightmare. Had my blood drawn Friday (not fun) for the typical round of STD tests (what is it with tropical islands and sexually transmitted diseases?!). Have to get a chest x-ray done next week (let's cross our fingers that I'm TB-Free!) and then submit all of my medical stuff for my visa.

I also have some fun coordination to do for bringing my kitty with me. Thankfully all of her titers and vaccinations were done already, but the Caymans have such a weird permit system it's driving me nuts! I have to apply to receive a permit that will then entitle me to apply for importation of my pet. Basically, I apply twice. And knowing bureaucracies, probably pay twice.

Having been on this ride once before, packing will be a breeze. Especially with my aforementioned uniforms.

Dad and I will be visiting the island early (April 6 - 9) in an attempt to get all of my ducks in a row before the Big Move. Really, I think this is just a much-needed Mini-Break for pops, but I'll tag along (hello? Seven Mile Beach anyone?). Hopefully while we are there we will find me a fabulous apartment that is way underpriced and a nice place to store some stuff (like books, super heavy). I'm also looking forward to meeting some of the students whom I've spoken to on the phone, everyone has been super nice. And it's comforting to know (also sad, but definitely comforting) that I am most certainly not the only person with a Rossie past. In fact, I'm starting to wonder if the population at St. Matt's isn't close to 50% Ross Cast-Offs. Which is alright by me, hopefully I won't stick out too much that way.

Did I mention the adorable rain boots I got today? They are fuchsia and brown plaid, totally comfortable and ready for some messy formalin in anat lab. Course, they totally clash with my bright red coveralls, so there might be a future purchase from Dickie's in order...

In other news: the pollen count here has reach seventy bagillion and our cars have officially become permanently yellow tinted. Awesome. I have never wished for rain so badly.

Work Schmerk.

I worked yesterday.

[just a brief pause to let the gravity of that statement sink in.]

JoAnne had a staff member off and they needed a quick fill in, so I unwittingly volunteered (yes, volunteered, as in unpaid) to help out. Again, I was excited at the prospect of working at JoAnne's side again, being her Special Tech (hidden issues there? we'll explore later...).

So I got my butt out of bed at the crack of 8, cleaned up and headed out to my Happy Place for an early morning pick-me-up. Made it to work with minutes to spare for the 9 o'clock surgery start time. After chatting with J for a bit, we were interrupted by Le Motivator who informed me that I will not have the pleasure of hanging with my homie that day but instead will be in Prep for the day. Prep. As in Anesthesia Prep. Again. What is with this place assuming I enjoy jabbing animals with Happy Drugs and shaving their privates? Oh wait...that's why I'm on this crazy vet adventure. Duh.

I ended up spending a lovely day with Jon knocking out animals and playing with anesthesia machines. I swear, for all of you vets (and vet students for that matter) out there, you should really try and spend one day every year you practice working as a technician. Just to remember what it is like being a technician. Perhaps then we wouldn't have such a problem with vet/tech relations or turnover of technicians. I realize that we as vets (vet students) work extremely hard to get that DVM, and as such we earn a level of...respect?...that some vets are all too ready to require from their techs. But we DVMs must also remember that we are only as good as our techs, and their job is CRAP. I mean seriously.

Don't get me wrong. I love the job, even all of the little stresses and irritations and mean people. But if the vet does not respect the technician (and all of the little stresses and irritations they experience on the job) then the work environment will not be conducive to long term employment. Just an FYI to my vet student friends.

Okay. Saturday Afternoon Special PSA is over.

On to happier things. Today I get to go shopping! Not for anything fun, just khakis to wear as my uniform at school. But it will be a lovely afternoon spent at the mall, and maybe I'll even treat myself to one of those yummy Double Doozies I never got on V-day.

Yay for Uniforms!

I promise not to look nearly as creepy happy nor armless in my uniforms. But I will look as svelte. Yay Size Ten!

Seas of Change.

It's funny, for days now my dogs have been staring at me in some sort of anticipation. As if they expect me to do something. Cute.

Anywho, it's official: I am heading off once again for school (see newly updated blog description just under title of blog). We make mistakes, we learn from them. This time will be different.

The situation is similar; I will be going off to vet school, living on an island, etc. This time the school is St. Matthew's University and the island is Grand Cayman. Class sizes are significantly smaller, the island is significantly pricier, the beaches are pristine and the diving is divine. Oh, and did I mention the uniforms? At least I look good in red.

I plan to keep up with the blog, considering I'm just as likely to loose my mind on this adventure as I was on the last. But I will be leaving the needles & yarn at home (I promise Sugar Bear) and will be bringing with me a renewed sense of determination. On the plus side, I might find an apartment in Hell.

Kitties 1, Saskia 193.

Mine will heal, but they will never have their balls back!

The day began with a lovely sunrise drive across town to the clinic. Did I mention how much I love sunrises? About as much as I love slamming my finger in a car door or having someone punch me repeatedly in the face. Read: Not a Big Fan.

As I pulled up to the clinic, the chaos was already apparent by the sheer number of cars and the incredibly tall lumberjack of a man directing traffic in the middle of the intersection. I found a parking spot and wandered into the clinic from the back entrance where the double doors were open and people were streaming in and out. I found a volunteer shirt and started feeling very excited about the prospect of spending the next few hours hanging out with my Vet BFF JoAnne (not to be mistaken with my Main BFF Jen). I had been promised (bribed) the position of doctor tech in order to lure me out of bed at this ungodly hour.

Sigh. My Mentor.

As I pulled my shirt over my head in the office, I was not-so-gently informed that my assignment had changed slightly and that I was now going to be helping with anesthesia. You can imagine my surprise (indignation) at this (crappy) turn of events. Why would I get out of bed so early just to prep cats on anesthesia?

Oh No. Not PREP. Administer. As in: hey you, we don't have enough people with experience working in clinics, so we're taking away your Fun Happy Place and replacing it with Hell, also known as The Pre-Med Station. We want you to spend the next 5 hours restraining mostly semi-feral and quite a few completely feral pissed off male tomcats who are quite sure something is up since they have been piled together in a mass of kennels where they can mark each other's space and scream at the top of their lungs as they fling themselves all over their box testing it for weaknesses.

Just in case we didn't know where we were.

Our little slice of Heaven (Hell).

Oh Saskia, you say. Such the dramatist. Everyone knows ferals come into clinics in traps. And those are easy to pre-med, you just stick that funny extra-large tong looking thing into the trap and force the cat against the side.

HA! That covers about 9% of the surgeries for the day.

The rest were either 18 pound cats stuffed into 12" wide kennels, itsy bitsy teeny kittens in cardboard kennels who flipped out at the injection as if we were tearing his balls off right there, and kennels containing seemingly innocuous kitties but with stickers on the front top that had statements like: "Hi! I used to be feral until about 2 months ago. Now I'm sweet. I just don't like to be handled very much." (Winner: Understatement of The Year)

To be honest, the first hour and a half was great. Every cat let me pull him out of the kennel with no fight, barely resisted restraint, and hardly flinched at the injection. I'm pretty sure they were all night owls like me, and thus had not yet had their morning coffee to perk them up.

I suppose what came next was my fault, although to be honest I blame the first hour and a half's worth of kitties for being so nice. Big White (well, more dirty yellow-white with all the urine, but who's being picky?) wasn't too keen with the poorly faked soothing voice I was using and he rudely slapped my hand away. Course, with talons that hadn't been cut in 6.34 years, my thumb came away in ribbons.

This is why I dislike restraining animals of the Feline Persuasion. They have an unfair advantage.

I realize it may look tame, but it certainly stung like a bitch. There was no way I was sticking my hand back in that cage to tangle with Mr. Yellow-White.

Thankfully, my partner Tim was quite the Squeeze Cage enthusiast. Not to say he was frightened (like his partner), actually he is quite the Cat Whisperer. But he's also a realist, and since the Number One Rule of the day was:

You think I'm kidding. These were posted all over the clinic a la New York Subways.

Tim wasn't playing games. Any growls, major hissing, swats or attempts at escape earned them a one-way ticket to The Cage.

Have I told you all how much I love Tim? I think we'll have a Spring Wedding.

Anywho, the day wore on as group after group of cats were brought into our little work space, popped with yummy drugs by us, and sent off to the next station. That's one of the great things about these Spay/Neuter-thons, they really have them organized (despite the potential image of chaos). There are these great volunteers that just sort of hang out watching in the different stations who are called "Transport". No one (and I mean NO ONE) is allowed to leave their station at any time, so if you have cats that need to be moved you just yell Transport! and these kids come running from all directions. It's really fun to just yell it every once in a while, just to make sure they're paying attention. It might seem like a stinky job, but really those Transporters make the pace of the entire operation!

Toe Tag and Pain Meds Station

(this was the next stop for our victims, and though you can see the proximity between us &them via Tim's left arm and the kennels behind him, but we still used Transport as often as possible so their feelings weren't hurt)

Surgery Prep Station.

Surgery Station

JoAnne giving this Tom a quick Happy Ending before giving him the Other Happy Ending.

In other parts of the clinic JoAnne was popping balls like nobody's business. And despite her distance from me, it was like she was right there since her voice carries quite well into multiple rooms. In fact, there was probably not a person there who couldn't hear her thoughts when she chose to speak them aloud. One of the Hot Topics of the day was who would win the Biggest Balls contest. Yes, that's right. They were saving balls on glove wrappers to measure after all surgeries were complete to determine who had the Biggest Balls. I think the winner got a free surgery or something.

JoAnne hard at work. This is a rare photo, as most of the time she appears as a blur.

This may seem like a joke, but it is Serious Business here in Testicle Town.

After Tim and I gave the last cat his Nice High, we wandered off to watch the rest of JoAnne's surgeries. I think they were having way too much fun in the surgery suite, personally. Not that I didn't have tons of fun with Tim. But he's just not JoAnne... (they are actually quite amazing opposites: tall/short, dark/light, taciturn/loquacious) Though it was kinda nice to get my hands back in the game.

Side Note: The most terrible injury by far was the one I incurred via closing a kennel door during the clean-up phase. The kennel door bit me.

Mortal Wound to the cuticle. Ouch!

All-in-all, that first day of the two-day event we neutered 193 Toms! And while that wasn't quite our goal for the day, it is still a nice little dent in the overpopulation problem, and for that I salute the Team Neuter-Thon! With a nice well-earned bottle of wine! Yay!

Wendy and JoAnne. Two Very Interesting People.

(Who should, for future reference, probably NOT be allowed in the same room at the same time.)

hee, hee :)

Oh, and JoAnne could you update us on the numbers for the second day? I'm just sooooo out of The Loop. Or is it The Circle of Trust?

UPDATE:

Seems the two-day Squeezing of the Balls was quite successful! They neutered well over 500 cats over the entire weekend! Congrats all and thanks for such a successful event!