Looking into the distance.

As my dad points out, work is called work because they have to pay you to do it.

Tell the youngsters that there are days, believe it or not, when adults would actually rather be tending to work than what else happens to be going on.

Today Pico is experiencing a bump in the road of perfect health. In my pain and worry I made the mistake of looking on YELP for reviews of San Francisco Veterinarians. According to the internet reviewers of the world, every business sucks. Every restaurant has horrible food, every store has terrible customer service and every vet is mean and uncaring.

Apparently only the disappointed rabble feel inclined to review things. The satisfied majority pushes onward toward other exciting, rewarding experiences which they will no doubt also not YELP about.

What's a worry wart to do?

My friend is sick and neither of us have a reliable relationship with a doctor yet.

I ask that anyone who feels pity for vulnerable kitties and melting tough-guys do one of the following for Pico today:

1) Say a little prayer that she quickly returns to her happy, pooping on the floor self;

2) Put "the vibe" out that everything turns out okay; or

3) Just call me or email me with a kind word.

What is the point of companionship except that it provides comfort when things go awry?

I am happily putting Pico in the car now to drive to the Inner Richmond, to the one vet that has an appointment available on this short work day.

We do all we can do, and the rest we have to wait and see.