Fun at the Flu Clinic and Cat Tales

There was a lot of giggles at the medical center yesterday when the name “Shirley” was called up to get a flu shot.

I didn’t immediately jump up, because I wasn’t certain I’d heard the name correctly.

It was a good thing I didn’t because, when no one appeared to respond, the nurse called out the first and last name “Shirley W____”, which turned out to be the 80 year old woman who’d checked in ahead of me.

I know she was 80 because I’d heard her respond “80” when the check-in nurse asked her age.

The 80 year old was a hard 80 — weak, slow moving, on a walker so it took some time for her to get up as the nurse repeated the name, stood there looking for someone to respond.

Just as the 80 year old stood, began her slow assent to the nurse, the other nurse stood up and called my name “Shirley, Shirley R_____”.

The 80 year old by now was standing in front of two nurses calling “Shirley” looking confused, while the two nurses were looking confused at the 80 year old and each other.

The second nurse asked if she was “Shirley R_____” but then saw I was approaching and had waived, indicating it was I.

The 80 year old had stopped in her tracks, unsure of which nurse to go to and, by now, everyone in the waiting room was watching the drama unfold and began to laugh when the nurse said, “We have two Shirleys back-to-back. That’s never happened before”.

As I got to the nurse who’d called my name, the 80 year old was just beginning to realize the confusion had been because two Shirleys were called and said with a smile, “Your name is Shirley too?”

"Yes" replied I. "It’s nice to meet you. I love your name".

It was a fun time at the flu shot clinic.

Upon returning to the complex, I swung by the mail center. Then later that afternoon, when I saw from my perch on the couch that the Tall Redhead was walking down the walkway, heading towards the mail center, I masked up, grabbed my keys, and headed down to pretend I was picking up mail so I could ask about the cat.

"What happened to the kitten?", asked I.

"Oh, he went Diane", said she as she pointed in the direction of Diane’s unit.

I don't recall if I said anything else in response to the Tall Redhead, because time sort of stood still as I processed to whom the kitten had been given.

On the surface, Diane is a nice enough person, friendly, sweet but, as previously posted, I suspect she did something to the puppy she adopted during the quarantine that caused the puppy to have to be put to sleep.

In that previous post, I'd detailed Diane's back story — that she'd been a brilliant woman, employed in a high-functioning job, something to do with working in a lab, until an automobile accident left her brain damaged, prone to seizures and unable to hold down a job.

During the shutdown, Diane adopted a puppy.

I’d once or twice seen her walking the puppy and, when the quarantine was over, I ran into her out walking — sans the puppy.

Asking how the puppy was doing, Diane said she’d had to put it to sleep. That it was acting funny, she’d taken it to the vet, who’d diagnosed the puppy with an ailment that required an expensive operation. Saying she could not afford the operation, she’d had the puppy put to sleep.

Reading between the lines, and observing Diane’s body language, I’d gotten the distinct impression she was glad to be rid of the puppy because, during the conversation, she blurted out “I tried sooooo hard, I really tried, but he was peeing on everything”. 

Also reading between the lines, observing the guilt in Diane’s eyes, I got the impression she caused the injury that required the puppy to be put to sleep because her eyes had that inward remembering look when she said, “I didn’t even hit him that hard”.

Sure, not THAT hard but hard enough that the puppy was acting funny thereafter and needed an operation.

At any rate, I don’t know how safe the kitten is with Diane. Hopefully, it won’t irritate her to where it ends up being thrown against the wall, which is what I suspect she did with the puppy.

There’s not much I can say or do. No one would believe sweet Diane may not be a good choice, a safe choice, could be a danger to a pet, so I’ll just have to check in with Diane, when I see her out and about, ask how the kitten is doing, hope for the best.

Before I could walk back to my unit, I saw another cat — not the Black cat, but a spotted one.

So we now have two stray cats on the property — the Tyrant is not going to be happy.

This new cat, is a spotted one that looks very much like she could be the kitten's mom.

Is it just me feeling she seem destitute, looking for, but not finding her kitten?