RIP Jareth. I mean David Bowie. (Post originally appeared in 2009.)
After agreeing to perform some service for the mysterious and terrifying Goblin King, I have found myself being led through the Labyrinth by a glum and morose Hoggle, who insists that this quest will be the death of us. Unfortunately, I still don’t know what we are supposed to do, and Hoggle doesn’t seem to want to tell me. How can I succeed in this task when I don’t even know what it is? I will have to find a way, using all the skills at my disposal.
After escaping from the FBI dungeon with the help of my new friend, Hoggle the Gnome, I have found myself in a strange subterranean maze, the likes of which have not been seen since the Minotaur roamed the labyrinth of Knossos. Although I am greatly relieved to be out of captivity, I find myself wondering if I have not traded one prison for another, vaster one, even more difficult to escape.
So these days, just about every animal in the house is getting some sort of medication or other; Trixie gets her Proin and just recently finished up her antibiotics from the life-preserver incident, Trouble gets her periodic shot of enulose (or possibly rum), and Tucker gets his Soloxine plus a raft of other nostrums that my wife has collected in her ongoing, and so far unsuccessful, attempt to curtail his symptoms. All of which got me thinking about how different medicating a cat is from medicating a dog.