Ow ow ow oowwwwwwwwwww

But you’re rockin’ that moustache.

Well, I just got Fribs back from her six-monthly check at the vet. She did her usual Cat Goes Comatose thing, which is easier than most of our kitties, who’ve preferred the seventeen-legs-eight-tails-climb-the-walls method.

No surprises about her health: she’s lost another 500 grams, and our doc wants to change her medication (she’s hyperthyroidal). Poor vet, though: Fribs had a strange growth on her neck, vet said it was a hair cyst (glorified zit, more or less), squeezed it and BLAT! Vet was hit with goo.

We also decided that whoever chose black uniforms for vets must have had an office job and not owned any pets ever.