The other week I saw a show on Netflix called Post Mortem, which was an autopsy of an obese woman in her early sixties.  It helped me visualise the thick rind of fat that lies just under my skin and grows thick on my belly area.  I can grab and shake the gut, so you just know what’s inside there.

So this has helped me moderate my food intake somewhat, and I also started doing 30 minutes of any old weight training show that pops up when I Google that topic.  I have a mat and weights, so can easily do this at home and it’s very convenient as I can do it whenever the urge hits.

I’ve been walking Louie daily for the past five years, and now adding the home exercise program is another good thing to fit into my retired person’s regime.  There’s nothing better for the nerves than to wake up in the morning and think what do I have to do today and answer “nothing!”

Well nothing I don’t want to do, but I seem to be awfully busy with things like baking and cooking as I take stuff to mom when I visit.  Mom’s a hound for muffins, so last week I baked blueberry, oatmeal and applesauce and your standard bran and raisin.

This mercury retrograde has brought all sorts of malevolence, as poor old Mango died.  He was missing for a day, then showed up making a terrible yowling cry.  It came deep from inside the cat and scared the hell out of the other two cats and the dog.

I called the nice mobile vet, and she came at 10:30 AM and immediately determined something horribly painful was going on in the cat’s abdomen.  He was covered in urine.  She said it could be so many things, though she ruled out being hit by a car.  She said she’d have to sedate him and take him in to do tests.  Even then she said she couldn’t guarantee she could fix the cat.

So I said no, Mango wouldn’t like that at all, and as he was almost 14 I said just sedate the cat and put him down.  He was very strong and she said it took three times the sedative to calm the cat.  I was then able to put him on my lap and he started to purr.

The vet put in the needle and I scratched his head, saying good bye, good bye, good bye, and then he was gone.  I held him for a moment then the vet took him and wrapped him up to be taken away for cremation.  We hugged as I cried and she said it’s the worst part of her job.

I recently noticed my smaller bee hive perished over the winter, so that’s $170 down the drain.  I said to Lorraine perhaps she and I can find a queen cell and move that frame over to the hive and start a new colony.  That’d be fab as I really don’t want to buy another queen and colony and have them die too.

Old Syl showed up with my honey extractor and said it’s all fixed so I hope to get some honey from the big hive this summer and test it out.  It’s sunny but cold and the other day I put a pollen patty on the hive to get the queen laying like mad.  I hope I don’t get another swarm though.

Now here it is April 1, Easter Sunday and Louie’s 5^th birthday.  I’ve walked him and did my obligatory weights, and thanks to the visuals I carry from the autopsy, I won’t be eating any Easter chocolates this year.