Thursday, May 18, 2006


Tinkerbell, my wingéd friend, I think we got it wrong. The fairytale, the happy end, just prehistoric songs...

Well, yesterday's vet trip wasn't just so Tinker could get a haircut. It was a checkup--he's been on thyroid medication for years--and they did a blood test. Results back today. His previously overactive thyroid is now very underactive, so he should be piling on weight. But he isn't--he's a skeleton--because he has tumours in his stomach.

I've memorised this tune. Her word was 'indefinite', but I've heard that before. Ten days before his sister died, in fact.


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