By the way. I got Roadie back today. I took Dulce in to the vet for a 3-week follow-up set of shots. She was NOT happy about that. Just walking into the office she was shaking and meowing so miserably. It was really sad. And I had to pry her into-and out of-the cat carrier. Last night she was so loving and sweet and cuddly, it was like she was extra happy. I wondered if she was extra happy because Roadie was gone. Today, we get home, and Dulce is SO happy to not be at the vets, and she's rubbing on me, until she sees Roadie is back. At that point, Dulce stops, stares at her like she did when she first came, hisses at her, and runs off. Then sits across the room and stares at Roadie all afternoon. Growling several times, not happy at all. It was kind of weird, like she'd never seen the cat before in her life. I can't decide if she's stupid, has bad eyesight, or if that's normal. Roadie was only gone for 24 hours! So Dulce is back to being a bit unhappy at the whole thing, and suspicious, and not cuddly and purring like she was last night. Roadie's feet hurt her, she's being very delicate on her toes, but otherwise she seems to be doing okay. I hope she takes to the new litter okay. It's this "Yesterday's News" litter with big smooth absorbant pellets that won't get into her wounds/stitches like the little "gravel" litter stuff could. The nurse was telling me that she had a cat whose paw she picked up after surgery and just picking it up caused it to start oozing pus. I raised my eyebrows at her, and she said "Well, if that happens, call us." Oh REALLY?? I wouldn't have thought of that! And hey, while I'm at it, thanks for the mental image of that one. Anyway, so both cats are home, neither are feeling real well, but that should be the last visit for a year or so.

May I also say...thank heavens I didn't pursue my original college major of Veterinary Medicine. The theory is fine. The science is kind of fun. The animals are cute. But the reality is NOT for me. Just walking in the door, the overpowering odor of terrified animals hits you in the face. I hate it. I hate going, I hate taking my pets, and I can't imagine working there every day for 50 years. When we got there today, there were puppies back there just Screaming. It was horrible. One of the nurses up front asked the guy waiting on his puppies if the noise bothered him. He said "no, I've heard it before." I said "Well, it bothers ME." I don't know what surgery they were having, but she said they were in surgery, and it was obvious there wasn't any anesthesia. When they came out in a box, they were all passed out asleep, occasionally whimpering, and they were tiny tiny puppies, obviously newborn. I thought "My gosh, it's 2006, can't they anesthesize these poor babies before they cut off whatever they were cutting off?" (Tails and/or ears, probably). Whatever it was, it was horrid. I may have been the only unhappy person in the room listening to a box full of puppies scream and cry in pain, but it was enough to tell me I definitely almost chose the wrong profession. I looked around that office and pictured myself in a white coat back there checking out the animals, and I literally shuddered for a second. I really care about the pets, the animals, and I'd love to help them if I could, but not like that. The life I live now, the airplanes, the flying, the schedule, the airports and trips and challenges and fun, THAT is what I was meant to do. And again, I thank heavens that my life's path headed this direction instead of that one. Veterinary medicine is a wonderful profession, it's just not MY profession.

It's an interesting thought process though. The "what if's". Had I stayed in Vet Medicine instead of dropping out and going to flight school, my entire life would be something else, in every way. I'd never have gone to Vincennes at all, and everything that I learned there (I don't mean school), I'd never have met Steve, I most likely would have spent my entire life without ever hearing of SMA, because the odds are against marrying another carrier. I have a feeling my entire personality would be a lot different. And I think I'd have been truly miserable as a vet. In fact, I bet most people I know now would laugh at the idea of me as a vet, just like a few of them have laughed at me being a secretary. Hey, I was very good at that, thank you! (Not laughing because it's a bad job, laughing because I seem like a bad match for it. They didn't know me when I was actually polite, which is obviously required to be a decent secretary!)

Oh, one side note on Kaylee. I learned something new about her today, from her teacher. Kaylee has a desk on the end of the tables, instead of in the middle of the other kids, because...wait for it...she doesn't like to be touched. When she's at a table with kids to her left and right, and they touch her or bump into her or their stuff encroaches on her stuff, she gets agitated and uncomfortable. So her teacher after about 9 weeks conceeded that this is simply the way she is, that it's okay, and allowed her to have a seat at the end of the table, where she said Kaylee said, and I quote, "Look Mrs. R., nobody can touch me here!" This took me completely by surprise, because Kaylee is very physical and affectionate to people that I've seen. She's very physically affectionate to her teacher, to us, to her little friends, in fact she sometimes "hangs on" people she cares about. Since I'm not there when I'm not there ;), I didn't realize that in groups she likes to keep her own space. And I thought, holy cow, of all the things to inherit from me. That is EXACTLY how I feel about being touched and bumped into and encroached upon by the vast majority of the planet. So I totally relate to how she feels, I understand it, but I kind of wish she'd gotten her dad's more outgoing and physically relaxed personality, for her own sake. It's not fun to feel uncomfortable in situations where most everybody else IS fine and comfortable. Small rooms, lots of people, loud talking, someone holding your arms or wrists or right in your face or resting hands on you, talking people on top of other talking people, being ran into or crowded or bumped into, hats, scarves, turtleneck shirts, zipped coats, motorcycle helmets or anything over my head/face, they just leave me with an almost panicky feeling sometimes, like I can't breathe. And I've heard her say that before. "I can't breathe, Mommy!" So that was an enlightening conversation. I guess some things you can't really learn about your child until they are around someone for a period of time who isn't their parent/grandparent. I'm glad to know it now though, because I think I can end up helping her a little bit on managing the feelings as she gets older. I usually do pretty well any more; in the last probably six months I can only think of about twice that I had a problem like that where I couldn't hide or control as well how it was affecting me. The thing is, I don't think that's something she'd have observed from me, I think it's just how she is too. The only thing I know of that I've said or acted on in front of her in that regard is how she sometimes has a tendency to smother me, get RIGHT in my face with her face, and I can only take that for a little time, and then I can't do it, and she knows it and she does it on purpose sometimes just to "bug" me as she calls it. But I don't think she could translate that into all this, especially without us knowing about it at home. Anyway, it's not a big deal, it's just interesting to me, since like I said, I had no idea until today! The teacher also said she's a loving and sweet little girl, eager to please, and a terrific helper. :) She's a good girl...I'm very proud of her!