Let's do this thing.
Vash is scheduled for a kitty ultrasound tomorrow. I was hoping to avoid it, but there it is. I drop him off at 8am and wait for a call. The vet uses a travelling radiologist, so it could take all day.
It's easier if I picture him as a gypsy radiologist, who arrives by caravan, and wears many colored scarves. For an extra coin, he will tell my fortune and bless our crops.
This is probably a bad sign. In one week I've written about throwing a Victorian tantrum and delivering my cat to the gypsies.
Because all of my daydreams involve literary stereotypes.