So now Currie has contracted pancreatitis, which means her pancreas is inflamed and leaking enzymes into her abdomen, which is not comfy. There's no antibiotics or anything they can give a cat to clear it up - they just have to stay hydrated and take it easy. The scary thing about it is there are often complications - abcesses on the pancreas can develop, or often cats experience liver failure because they are nauseous and don't eat. So, back to the vet tomorrow to pick up some fluid injections and antibiotics to prevent abcess growth.

Despite this, Currie seems to be a little better. She was waiting for me at the door when I got home from work today, did a flop-and-belly-stretch, tried to scratch the couch a little, and even jumped up on the kitchen counter. So I think it's probably clearing up, slowly but surely. This does not make me any more relaxed of a pet parent; God help me if I have real (well, human) children.

Lunch at the Mill in Coal Harbour, sitting outside beside the water park in the sunshine, did me some good and took my mind off Currie for a few minutes. An old Pearson friend, Andy, is in town before her Pearson reunion on the Island in a few weeks, so we had a good ol' gossip catch-up. We hadn't seen each other since I left Montreal in 2004, so we had a lot of boys to catch each other up on. We're still not through, but we have tomorrow night before we go to see Hair at the Waterfront Theatre on Granville Island to get through the full roster.

I'm so looking forward to this long weekend. Work has been steadily insane since the beginning of this month and I need some time to putter around my house, do laundry, Swiffer, read a book, eat cherries, bake a pie - my usual 1950s Housewife comfort routine.

Speaking of 1950s (well 1964) housewives, did you see the premiere of Season 4 of Mad Men? Betty Draper married that old dude? And she won't get out of Don's house?! Out you go, Betty, I'll happily shine Don's shoes. Mmm. Jon-Hamm-in-a-suit. Yes please.