i’m fine, thanks.
well, my finger looks like an over-stuffed hot dog and i’m now pretty intimately acquainted with the bowels of the beth-israel emergency ward and i’m swimming in antibiotics and i’ve been x-rayed a bunch of times (without lead shield, thank you very much, so if i was shooting blanks before now i’m definitely riding on the sterility train…wooh hoo), but i’m ok. all from a stupid cat bite.
isn’t that just absurd?
i understand why people are hesitant to get treated for a cat bite. you feel really silly receiving intravenous anti-biotics and having doctors rushing around you when all that you’ve got are a couple of tiny holes from where some foul-mouthed cat bit you.
ugh. what a bunch of unnecessary drama. and i’ve decided that although i’m still a vegan i will definitely eat this cat if i see it again. well, maybe i won’t, but i’ll definitely give it a very stern talking to.
the height of futility: trying to verbally reprimand a cat that lives in a dumpster.
it’s the equivalent of remonstrating with a goldfish.
the cat won. it has proven it’s superiority to me and my race. all hail that foul-mouthed feline. i will henceforth wear steel reinforced gloves whenever petting dumpster cats.
and, seriously, this is one of those moments when i’m really grateful for western medicine. without our good (and often overused) friend the humble antibiotic i’d be in a lot of trouble.
i appreciate and practice homeopathy and traditional medicines, but when you’ve got feline dumpster bacteria running around your bloodstream you suddenly become very fond of good old western medicine and its arsenal of antibiotics.
thanks for your concern everybody,
-moby