I’m sitting here with my vape — minty, comforting clouds helping me breathe while I wait.
ADHD in full gear, naturally.
Waiting? That’s an instant NOPE.

A two-hour window?!
Please. That’s like someone saying, “Your appointment’s at 4pm” and my brain responding, “Cool, I’ll be ready at 9am, do nothing productive all day, and still somehow be late.”

Meanwhile, beside me, Lacey brrrps gently as I stroke her soft little head.
After the anal invasion she endured earlier, I’m honestly surprised she trusts me again this fast.
The yowl she let out when that gland blockage was released?
That sound will haunt me. It didn’t belong on her beautiful, innocent little face.

She’s on steroids now — the same ones that helped pull me out of asthma hell.
Maybe they’ll help her just as much.

She hasn’t lost any weight, but hey… I know that feeling.
Pretty sure they don’t make Wegovy for cats, though.

Dr. B said her heart’s doing well.
Otherwise, she’s in decent shape — just needs ongoing bum-shaves, steroids when needed, and, of course, her food.
Miss Ziwi Peak of Extreme Fussiness will accept no substitutions…
Until she does — without warning, and with judgment.
Honestly? Same.

I’ve had food obsessions that burn hot for months — raspberries, porridge, soy crisps — and then suddenly, I’m disgusted.
ADHD doesn’t ask permission.
It just switches.

She’s the same.
Only with more entitlement and fur.