St. Joan of Arc. Right. Mark Twain’s story about the saint. Figures, Joan of Arc was a Capricorn.
A pretty Aries came flying in from some little town, just to see me. And buy me some bait, apparently. She was distraught because she was double-booked for the evening and didn’t get to spend near enough time with me, which was fine, really. After I printed up the charts she requested, I looked at her, and asked if she was any good with needles.
Took her by surprise, and it’s darn near impossible to surprise an Aries.
With one Capricorn friend out of town, I have to go over twice a day and arrange to shoot up the cat with insulin. I don’t believe that I’m looking forward to the next week of twice-daily trips to the vet.
I’m just wondering how many vet stories I can get out of this one. I do believe it does wonders for my “cat karma” although, I’m pretty sure my mistress is not amused that I’m doing this for some other cat.
