...in this town, but one drives up here every Wednesday. We had planned to take our poor limp-tailed cat - a cat who, by the way, *usually enjoys listening to poems - down to the vet on Monday, but a long road trip during a heavy snowfall and through freezing rain isn't all that wise. Same story Tuesday. So this afternoon she, as usual, battled the pet carrier all the way to the temporary vet clinic in the church and she battled it again on the way home, charging the gate, her nose the battering ram. Anyhow, after 0.5 ml of Dexamethasone, my cat's tail resembles this one. That's an improvement.
*The exception being a speedy reading of E. E. Cummings' "anyone lived in a pretty how town", to which she flattens her ears in disdain.