Lest we forget the difficulty of learning new things.

 My friend who travels a lot has two cats and I sometimes take them into my home for a visit. Moose, the mature male, loves his human laps and head scrubs - he waits for me to sit, jumps up and purrs when my hands touch him. Moose has diabetes and I went to the vet to learn how to give him an insulin shot, something he needs twice a day - its only 1 ml - with a meal. Good news because Moose loves, loves, loves his meals. We can count on him to be distracted. Bad news because I hate shots. Three humans and a cat stood in an examining room: owner, me, veternarian and Moose. The veternarian had a box of syringes and opened one bag to extract one and show us how to give a shot using sterile saline. You tent the loose kitty skin, poke an indentation, then shove the needle in to release the contents. She was really good at it. If you need to set the needle down to do the cat skin thing, you have to put the top back on to keep it sterile. My friend, "totally comfortable" with giving Moose a shot, suggested I be the one to practice with saline when the time came.  A time for courage, I put on my reading glasses and took the proffered brand new syringe. I went to remove the cap, curiously difficult and the vet reminded me to take off the plunger cap first, which I did. The cap at the other end gave me trouble and I put some muscle into it and pulled it off sideways, bending the needle. We all looked at the problem.

Time for another syringe. I removed the plunger cap, the vet cautions me to pull straight up and I manage to not bend the needle, although I did catch it with the cap, again  Let me say here that the needle is tiny, more narrow than a sewing needle. The vet gives me the saline tube and I go to insert the needle, but the rubber is strangly difficult to penetrate - another chance to bend the needle. "Just stab it" the vet says. I stab it. "Now pull in one mil". I pull in one mil. Suddenly, with a rush of confidence, I say " is that a bubble?" and give the cylinder an expert flick. "Now there is." says the vet. I pull more saline into the barrel, then push out the bubble and measure one mil, again. There is no way I'm going to put the cap back on this syringe while I tent and dent Moose's loose skin and then take it off again. With one hand I grab some skin, use a finger from the same hand to dent a place, then go at it with the syringe. I cannot tell what is happening in the indentation. Moose is oblivious, so I push the plunger and cannot even feel that move. My friend and the vet look proud of me, so I admit that I can't tell if I even got anything into Moose.  We look at the site and, with relief, sight no saline and my friend makes a plan to shave a spot on Moose's back so I can see the needle into his light skin.

In two weeks, Moose and Tahlula will come over for a week and I'll be giving Moose shots. Please send delivery vibes