Elder Statesman my ass! Golden years? What golden years? I swear, if I get poked, prodded, injected, or gagged with a syringe filled with who the hell knows what one more time I'm going to have a fit.
These past few weeks have been hell on this tired old bag 'o bones. I'm pooping, I'm not pooping. I'm pooping runny, I'm pooping too hard and struggling. I'm eating, I'm not eating. I'm drinking plenty, I need fluids under my skin! I'll tell you what gets under my skin!
What are we on now- our fourth or fifth variety of "special" kidney diet canned food? And how many dry versions of crap can there possibly be? Crap is crap, if you ask me. Low protein, ultra low protein, no protein- I just don't give a damn.
Why can't they just let me be? Have I really been that cranky, noisy and obnoxious since getting those teeth yanked? What's that, mom? Don't answer that? Whatever.
You reach my age and you'll see- all I want is to be left alone. Got that? A-L-O-N-E!
Okay, I'm done now. Mom, dad, I know you're just trying to take care of me, but for crying out loud, give it a rest!!
You get my teeth fixed, then all hell breaks loose. What's next? Kidney transplant? Full set of dentures? Gonna transplant new claws to replace the ones you trim down so low? Maybe reattach my long lost balls?
Okay, sorry. Guess I wasn't quite done yet. But I am now, really. Glad I have loving, caring parents who want to nurse me back to health so they can keep me kicking for another hundred years.
Oh, nice. On top of all this Blogger has decided to take a little vacation. Hello? Anyone there? Those little tabs up there just for looks? Hello?