Old sister summer keeps rolling along

Lulu turned a corner several days ago. I opened the studio in the morning and her diaper sat on the bed, where she'd successfully discarded it in the night and upon examination, her poor yoni which has been like it's own little Eli Roth movie, had finally stopped bleeding. Her demeanor has shifted as well, probably due in no small part to no longer having to sport a fucking diaper. So, she's scheduled for surgery next Thursday. I would have liked to have had the time leading up to it to be with her, but I've been called back to the evil salt mine to finish up my last week, so I'll be sitting in my chair, doing what I've been doing for the last 7 years (fuck all), which will no doubt make the final spring of freedom more resounding.

So, summer moves on. It's been hot but not ridiculous. Ester is molting, again, but even though she looks awful, this molt doesn't seem to be wringing everything out of her, as past ones have. I tell her she's beautiful and she totally buys it. Women. I watched Night of the Hunter last night. It had been about 10 years since I watched it last and it still holds up as one completely over the top yet still expertly reined in movies ever made. If you've never seen it: c'mon!

Another day, more adult diapers
Lulu is actually doing much better today, so I am thoroughly bemused. And vets, like their human-treating counterparts, as usual fail spectacularly when most needed. But for now, we're here, together.
Ain't no why, so don't ask.
This morning found me far less sanguine about the whole situation as I opened up Lulu's door (she sleeps in my studio, on her own twin bed, after several years of sleeping with the canine equivalent of a snory, stinky old man finally got to me) and she bounded out, freed of her adult diaper and bleeding dark and steady. I stopped to brush my teeth before wrestling another diaper onto her and off we went, to the vet, where we spent the next two hours in a small room which looked as if a massacre had occurred after we left. So, it's cancer, and it's galloping. We left loaded down with things to rehydrate her and clear the infection she now has and a bunch of other shit and on Thursday, rather than surgery, they're going to take x-rays to gauge it's progress and it's very likely, it seems to me, that all those things I've said I'd do when she was gone - like throw out the stinky dog chair - will probably happen sooner rather than later. Again, it's sort of a blessing that I have this time off and extra resources, but why these things always seem to pile on - well, there is no why. So don't ask.
What is the what
The end of my second week as a woman of no means. And that's just disingenuous, because I have many means, just no steady income any more. But I do have a very nice (in my very humble world) little bit of padding coming down the pike, shortly, more than I'm accustomed to in my by-the-seat-of-you's usual mode of travel. My first week was a heat wave and a back that went out after sort of telegraphing it's intentions to me the previous week. I lay outside on my dolled up chaise lounge, with the chickens more often than not gathered round, preening and sometimes (okay, only Butters) napping. They all now hit the hay at 8. They've had it. Fed up with sunny freedom, thank you very fucking much. So, a couple of weeks, assessing and then I just decided a few days in, fuck it, it's summer. Try to have some fucking fun. What a brilliant opportunity, there for the figuring-out-of and me, all here and ready to do so. But today sort of steered me away from just idyllic hedonism to something a little starker:
Lulu's tumor. I notice it walking her. Some pinkness, I go in for a closer look: her vulva is swollen. The next day I called the vet and the soonest was Saturday, four days away. Lulu isn't favoring it but it's clearly all wrong. At the vet they take a biopsy and she bleeds and won't stop and they finally glue her up, and we set a surgery date (now, with the severance, I'll have some money and it's text book My Life (that usual cancelling out of extra money + new crisis.) And I'm okay with it. I'm going to be around for her, I don't have some stupid worthless piece of shit job to go to and pretend to do crap, and pretend to give a shit about it, while she's here home bleeding alone, so I feel in a strange state of grace. Today, I purchased my first (oh, but probably not the last, old woman) pack of adult diapers and have spent the day making Lulu suffer through variable successes at making them stay on and to keep her from getting blood everywhere and from licking herself dry. More vet consultation and biopsy results and we'll see how she's doing. It's okay to go, Kid, and your time at this address wasn't that crappy, was it? I think, as usual, I have underestimated the size of the vacancy to come. But there is still the summer ahead of us and our problems are few. I hope I see it through with Lulu, with her sewn up lady bits. We'd have that in common.