A Post in Which I Wish

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“Formerly, when I would feel a desire to understand someone, or myself, I would take into consideration not actions, in which everything is relative, but wishes. Tell me what you want and I’ll tell you who you are.” ~ Anton Chekov

I posted a photo of this cat a few days ago on Facebook. Here she is again, the lovely Petra. I got scratched on the job yesterday, but it wasn’t Petra, it was Kanga, and she did it inadvertently after two of us held her down and squirted antibiotic fluid into her mouth. We do that when we have orders from the veterinarian, who is only in a few times a week, all day only on Fridays.  The scratch turned out to be not so bad, but it looked to be bad at first. I got the guy who used to be the former, full time, vet’s assistant to bandage it up for me and he did a lovely and thorough job of it. A good day’s work ensued. The animal shelter is where I do the majority of what I do these days. I’m pretty much of a hermit. I don’t mind. Life’s been pretty stressful these past eight years. I’m tired. Taking care of cats make me feel better. That I walked into the job at a time of intense controversy still doesn’t feel so good. To this day I still feel an injustice was done when our former vet was run out of town on a rail. But that’s just me. I delineate the sad event as self-standing because I still must remain true to the operations of the shelter, because I believe that personal integrity is important, and because I don’t want any trouble. Trouble is too easy to find without goin’ out and making more. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – I miss the vet. I feel sad because he is gone. Like the opening photo, things get blurry around the edges when it comes to human politics. I mean you’ve got to take a stance or get out of the way. I took a stance, what turned out to be a wrong one, but I remain true to myself regardless. I’d be rightly appalled if I had to pay for my stance somewhere down the line. Over is over unless it’s not. That ‘over’ is in reference to my own inner truth. There ain’t a hootin’ chance in hell of me having to pay for it in the outside world, now that all the hootin’ and hollerin’ is over. I am reduced to considering the whole sad affair on a philosophical and sociological level. I feel sad, that’s all. I wish it had turned out otherwise. A fella can wish can’t he? Before I sign off please note that I am so friggin tired that I cannot even manage a second paragraph!

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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