I am not a squeamish person, generally. I don't like to read about or see images of trepanning, but otherwise I usually remain calm when encountering things ooky or icky.
However, last night the neighbors got to hear me one-up that rat hollering significantly when I pulled what I thought was a twig off of my backpack, put it right up to my nose to see what kind of twig it was, and discovered instead that it was a mummified ensatina. I don't think I've ever screamed like that in my life. Everyone upstairs thought I'd accidentally chopped off a body part. I wish! Poor critter.
Speaking of poor critters, Iz, Mali, and I went to visit Scabby at the hospital yesterday. She still looked like absolute crap, still couldn't stand, was barely able to track us visually or move her head, and smelled like pee because I'm sure she's peeing on herself all the time because kitty bedpans don't work so great.
They don't know what's wrong with her. They've done all sorts of tests. She's not diabetic; she was dehydrated but her sodium was low, not high; her heart is racing even when she's asleep but they did a cardiac ultrasound and there's nothing visibly wrong there either. They think she might have eaten some toxic foliage, but we don't have house plants. I am going to go in and see the doctor this morning. I have to say that she looks as bad or worse than her companion Diamond did during her last days. Not feeling optimistic.