Well, as pictured, Curriecat is home from the pet hospital and stoned out on drugs. She reminds me of that YouTube video of the poor kid coming home from the dentist and he's still totally high and asking his dad if "this is real life." It's funny but he's obviously in such distress that you feel bad for laughing. Curriecat is kind of like that at the moment. We had a relatively good night - she came out of hiding a couple of times for treats, and ate some dinner and drank some water, but there was much growling and she was not in the mood for cuddles of any kind. She was in an even worse mood when I had to start tackling her to the floor and holding her down to give her her meds, via syringe. I don't think she'll be coming out from under the bed even for treats now - she's on to me. She seemed comfortably ensconced under the bed with her mousie, with the fan blowing cool air on her, when I left for work this morning.

While I was at the pet hospital to pick Currie up, I got an update on the poor kitty who fell last Sunday night. A police officer brought her in, and she was DOA (thank goodness). She has been registered with the city pound, but no one has claimed her yet. This makes me think that my first gut reaction that she had been thrown - based on my own unscientific assessment of how difficult it would be for a cat to climb out the window or climb through the balcony bars, and the ongoing stream of stuff people seem to be throwing from the roof "for fun" - may be correct. Otherwise, why wouldn't her family be looking for her, putting up flyers, speaking to building management - anything. People are so strange. I like animals way better.