I’m an animal lover and a mom, so I’ve dealt with an amazing variety of mess due to animals and children. You can imagine I’ve been wetted down at one point or another with drool, blood, undigested food, and every other fluid that can possibly come out of a small child. I’ve had cats give birth in my lap. I’ve had a variety of small mammals go poo on me. I’ve also had the moderately rare experience of being vomited upon by a snake. But today was the first time I’ve been peed on by a gerbil. Let me find a container for my joy. *rolls eyes*

Caramel is home again, having racked up another $325 in vet bills. There are now 5 different items that must be syringed into or onto him — the acidopholus, liquid antibiotic, wound wash, neosporin, and (the latest addition) something called Critical Care, which the package states is a “syringe-feeding formula for convalescing small herbivores.” It smells incredibly rank, which makes me very very grateful that I’m not a convalescing small herbivore.

We get to do this whole syringe-feeding, medicating, and wound care routine every 12 hours for the next 3 weeks, since the little bastard has essentially reset his recovery back to square one by scratching out his stitches (the cone eliminated his ability to use his teeth, so he got inventive with his claws).

The gerbil has now, I’m quite certain, cost more than any other gerbil in the history of the world that wasn’t produced by cloning!!! There’s no way I’m letting it die at this point. My stubbornness has kicked in, but good. I’m on a mission now.