Back in the late spring of ’05, when my Tasha first started getting sick, the vet thought at first that it was an infection that made her throw up. Lab tests soon proved that it was CRF, but for a short time there, Tasha was taking a most hateful and disgusting antibiotic. I had the hardest time getting her to take it. Nothing I could find to hide it in would work, because the pills were so foul tasting, and she could smell it coming when I opened the bottle. Poor baby. A few times, I just had to hold her and pill her by hand….

A couple of days ago, I saw a doctor who prescibed some medication for my gallbladder (expensive? oh yeah) and a cocktail of antibiotics for related issues. So a few minutes ago, I went in the kitchen to take my medicine like a good boy. When one of the pills hit my tongue, I wasn’t quite ready with the water. Talk about an awful taste. I looked down at the bottle — I thought it sounded familiar when the doctor mentioned it — it’s the same damnable stuff. Flagyl. The same stuff Tasha wouldn’t take.

It’s a wheel, my friends. Karma, I mean.

The wheel is turning
and you can’t slow down
You can’t let go
and you can’t hold on
You can’t go back
and you can’t stand still
If the thunder don’t get you
then the lightning will