![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I'm such a ( follower )
Sep. 24th, 2003
an update on Edgar
Sep. 24th, 2003 03:15 amWell, he's home at any rate. And I've completely disassembled his cage for a very thorough cleaning which left me gasping, wheezing, and coughing for two hours due to my allergies.
The doctor showed me the x-rays and barium studies, which proved to be inconclusive. There were no obstruction present in the intestines or anywhere else. And he believes that ECE is still not the underlying factor of all of this. After speaking on the phone this afternoon with the woman that I bought Edgar (and the new ferret, HP) from, I'm leaning further towards believing that as well.
I had thought HP to be an asymptomatic carrier of the virus, but Penny says none of her other ferrets appear to be sick. She kept HP's littermate, so it's fairly safe to assume that if HP carried the virus then someone else would be getting sick right now.
The doctor suggested that it might have been stress, which I can kind of see. I brought HP home not that long ago and the introductions between the two of them went fairly swift before I housed them in the same cage. They weren't blood fighting, so I figured there would be no problem. Because they were both in the same cage, it took me a little while to realise that Edgar wasn't eating and due to this, HP was eating ALL of the food from both of the bowls (the little glutton). He's such a pig.
Edgar has been hydrated and fed intravenously, he's been given antibiotics (with a bottle of it for me to take home). The vet informed me that he'd begun eating on his own, regular crunchy food, and that his bowels seemed to be working just fine now. He also managed to charm the pants off of everyone he came into contact with at the vet's office. They all told me how much of a little gentleman he is, how very sweet and lovable. He bounded out of the tech's arms when he saw me, wriggling until he was free and licking my face and neck. At least he's not mad at me.
And to make up for his little overnight adventure to the vet's office, I took him to the pet store and bought him a new bed, as well as some interlocking mats to line the wire floor of his cage (the carpet the Engineer and I installed so painstakingly a few weeks back has been removed) and some new toys. He rode in the little kid seat of the shopping cart I pushed, attracting the attention of everyone who passed by.
So now I have the enjoyment of feeding him pink stuff twice a day until the bottle is empty. I can hardly wait for this, despite the vet tech's promises that he readily drinks it from the dropper.
Also this evening, I played a round of "You're going to learn to not bite me when we play" with HP. Which involved me breaking out the bottle of Bitter Apple that had been used when I taught Edgar the same thing. However, and this is a big however, the taste of the Bitter Apple does not seem to dissuade the little fucker in any manner. So, either the stuff has gone off and doesn't work anymore, or HP likes the taste of it. It must have lost its potency, because I've tasted that shit myself and it is in no way something I would ever care to repeat.
One of my ex-roommates and I decided one night that we wanted to know what it tasted like, just to see what the animals which came into contact with it were experiencing. We each put a small drop on our index fingers and then licked it off.
I can't even put into words the vile explosion that settled around my poor taste buds after that. And the goddamn stuff takes a LONG time to go away. I had my head stuck in the sink, with my mouth over the faucet for about fifteen minutes and I could still taste it.
Never fucking again.
HP is either a masochistic freak or it just doesn't taste bad anymore, because of how old the bottle is. And I'm not willing to test it on myself to figure it out, either.
The doctor showed me the x-rays and barium studies, which proved to be inconclusive. There were no obstruction present in the intestines or anywhere else. And he believes that ECE is still not the underlying factor of all of this. After speaking on the phone this afternoon with the woman that I bought Edgar (and the new ferret, HP) from, I'm leaning further towards believing that as well.
I had thought HP to be an asymptomatic carrier of the virus, but Penny says none of her other ferrets appear to be sick. She kept HP's littermate, so it's fairly safe to assume that if HP carried the virus then someone else would be getting sick right now.
The doctor suggested that it might have been stress, which I can kind of see. I brought HP home not that long ago and the introductions between the two of them went fairly swift before I housed them in the same cage. They weren't blood fighting, so I figured there would be no problem. Because they were both in the same cage, it took me a little while to realise that Edgar wasn't eating and due to this, HP was eating ALL of the food from both of the bowls (the little glutton). He's such a pig.
Edgar has been hydrated and fed intravenously, he's been given antibiotics (with a bottle of it for me to take home). The vet informed me that he'd begun eating on his own, regular crunchy food, and that his bowels seemed to be working just fine now. He also managed to charm the pants off of everyone he came into contact with at the vet's office. They all told me how much of a little gentleman he is, how very sweet and lovable. He bounded out of the tech's arms when he saw me, wriggling until he was free and licking my face and neck. At least he's not mad at me.
And to make up for his little overnight adventure to the vet's office, I took him to the pet store and bought him a new bed, as well as some interlocking mats to line the wire floor of his cage (the carpet the Engineer and I installed so painstakingly a few weeks back has been removed) and some new toys. He rode in the little kid seat of the shopping cart I pushed, attracting the attention of everyone who passed by.
So now I have the enjoyment of feeding him pink stuff twice a day until the bottle is empty. I can hardly wait for this, despite the vet tech's promises that he readily drinks it from the dropper.
Also this evening, I played a round of "You're going to learn to not bite me when we play" with HP. Which involved me breaking out the bottle of Bitter Apple that had been used when I taught Edgar the same thing. However, and this is a big however, the taste of the Bitter Apple does not seem to dissuade the little fucker in any manner. So, either the stuff has gone off and doesn't work anymore, or HP likes the taste of it. It must have lost its potency, because I've tasted that shit myself and it is in no way something I would ever care to repeat.
One of my ex-roommates and I decided one night that we wanted to know what it tasted like, just to see what the animals which came into contact with it were experiencing. We each put a small drop on our index fingers and then licked it off.
I can't even put into words the vile explosion that settled around my poor taste buds after that. And the goddamn stuff takes a LONG time to go away. I had my head stuck in the sink, with my mouth over the faucet for about fifteen minutes and I could still taste it.
Never fucking again.
HP is either a masochistic freak or it just doesn't taste bad anymore, because of how old the bottle is. And I'm not willing to test it on myself to figure it out, either.
In honour of my weekly BOY FREE DAY, I decided to drive around by myself for a large portion of the night. I had a few errands to run, but nothing really all that big. So, I stole the car and off I went.
The night was absolutely gorgeous, which prompted me to put all of the windows down. Getting on to the highway however, I was accosted by a big rig who had decided I was a prime target for menacing. It drove up right behind me with its high beams on, but I performed Tara-Excellent-Driving-Skills and eluded him for about thirty minutes. That motherfucker thought he was slick, weaving in and out of traffic to catch up to me. But, I was in a small car which moves quite a bit faster then his.
I am sure many people will shout at me for playing Taunt-The-Big-Trucks again because of this.
I travelled to the pet store to return something I bought yesterday and wound up not needing, I drove to Wal-Mart down near my father's house and puttered around in there (all of the Halloween swag is not out yet and I am disappointed in the things that were out), and I stopped at an ATM machine to get some cash to fill the gas tank.
However, this was not meant to be as something very strange is once again afoot with my bank account. I called them yesterday to straighten some problems out (I had been told my rent check had yet to clear, when it had already done), but apparently things aren't as straight as I was led to believe. I should have had over three hundred dollars in my checking account. I had ten dollars. And eight cents. What the blithering fuck?!
When I came home, I tallied up all of my checks and debit card sales. It does not equal an amount which would leave my account at such a low tally. I reckon I'm going to have to get on the phone again tomorrow and deal with this. Which makes me angry, because I am constantly fighting with this bank.
No, I can't change banks either. I have a personal loan through them and I have it scheduled to make direct withdrawls from my account every month. If I go to another bank, then my interest rate will rocket up.
Even if all the checks I have written and all the POS sales I have debited cleared, then I should STILL have A LOT more money in my account then ten dollars and eight cents. Something is wrong. And I've no idea what.
Fuckers.
They should have 24 hour, full service banks. Because I hate this waiting for tomorrow shit to get things straightened out.
The night was absolutely gorgeous, which prompted me to put all of the windows down. Getting on to the highway however, I was accosted by a big rig who had decided I was a prime target for menacing. It drove up right behind me with its high beams on, but I performed Tara-Excellent-Driving-Skills and eluded him for about thirty minutes. That motherfucker thought he was slick, weaving in and out of traffic to catch up to me. But, I was in a small car which moves quite a bit faster then his.
I am sure many people will shout at me for playing Taunt-The-Big-Trucks again because of this.
I travelled to the pet store to return something I bought yesterday and wound up not needing, I drove to Wal-Mart down near my father's house and puttered around in there (all of the Halloween swag is not out yet and I am disappointed in the things that were out), and I stopped at an ATM machine to get some cash to fill the gas tank.
However, this was not meant to be as something very strange is once again afoot with my bank account. I called them yesterday to straighten some problems out (I had been told my rent check had yet to clear, when it had already done), but apparently things aren't as straight as I was led to believe. I should have had over three hundred dollars in my checking account. I had ten dollars. And eight cents. What the blithering fuck?!
When I came home, I tallied up all of my checks and debit card sales. It does not equal an amount which would leave my account at such a low tally. I reckon I'm going to have to get on the phone again tomorrow and deal with this. Which makes me angry, because I am constantly fighting with this bank.
No, I can't change banks either. I have a personal loan through them and I have it scheduled to make direct withdrawls from my account every month. If I go to another bank, then my interest rate will rocket up.
Even if all the checks I have written and all the POS sales I have debited cleared, then I should STILL have A LOT more money in my account then ten dollars and eight cents. Something is wrong. And I've no idea what.
Fuckers.
They should have 24 hour, full service banks. Because I hate this waiting for tomorrow shit to get things straightened out.
