I’ve been called many things in my short life…
First, my adoptive parents who saved me from the kill shelter in Tennessee – bless them – called me Dancer…which is quite fitting as I love to dance (and jump).
Then I moved to Illinois to live with my family and my name was changed to Montana Tornado (or Mo-Tor). I have a lot of other nicknames which I’ve talked about over the last year or so of my blogging life. However, I may have omitted Crackpot – since I don’t find it flattering in the least bit. Kind of makes me sound crazy. And if there is one thing I’m not it is crazy…at least most of the time. Granted, I can get a bit wound up now and then, maybe chase a tail or chew on a back leg but I don’t think that really constitutes as crazy. Right?
I also like to chew on things … not attached to my body. Or to be more specific, SHRED things. Sammy is much more the power chewer that will crush something that gets within reach of his mouth. On the other hand, I embrace any object that can be ripped piece by piece (say a pair of my fathers socks). Once again, I can hardly see how this would relegate me to the world of the cuckoo-bin.
A recent case in point was a plastic chicken my parents got for me at the local toy store (they also get food and treats for us at this magical place). Anyhow, after a few nights of making a lot of squeaky noises with the aforementioned chicken, I decided some shredding was in order. The result: a pretty much faceless chicken that could no longer talk back at me as I chewed on it. Not sure why a couple puncture holes would stop anything from squeaking, but then again I am no physician.
Since I started to ignore the voiceless plastic bird, my father decided it was time for some cosmetic surgery. The result was not a pretty sight (I would recommend those faint of heart to stop reading at this point).
Here is the chicken immediately after the surgery:
- Why would my father choose Duck Tape to fix a chicken? And they call me a crackpot…
- Although I said I wasn’t a physician that doesn’t mean that I don’t have some stellar bedside manner…
As you can see from these ICU pictures I am nothing but compassionate.
Take that Nurse Ratched.
ps – Sammy is doing great. He hasn’t allowed me to participate in his recovery but I am OK with that as I was the one who diagnosed his condition in the first place! He is taking his antibiotics without any fuss and not messing with that nasty hot spot. Thankfully “we” (me) caught it before the infection got deeper than the superficial wound that he now has. We’ll keep you posted on his progress.