Hi all.
So unfortunately we ended up in a bad situation whereas my mum received a section 21 letter because the landlord wants to sell the house.
Due to her disabilities we went down the council route, mum was band A, she was preliminary offered a property. However the council messed up big time and pulled it out from under her feet.
A council lhoysing eader overturned all decisions medical evidence of my mum’s disabilities including hospital reports and took away all bandings. Were the process of appealing this but we’ve decided to go elsewhere. The appeal is more about disability rights.
Having witnessed things about the local council I believe they have seriously breached a duty of care.
Anyway We have had to secure alternative accommodation in an housing association. The place mum will be moving to is an over 55s facility. Its nice.
Whilst it does allow small pets, cats have to remain indoors and are not allowed in communal areas. My mum will also be on the second floor.
My mums cat is everything to her, and she cannot give him up. He has really helped get some of her life back after my dad died.
Unfortunately there is no one to take him in. I can’t because I live in a shared place. I’m not taking him to a rescue because they would just turn him a way. (I know the bleak outlook for him in my area).
He is mostly an indoor cat anyway, and is extremely clean. (Better than most humans.) He won’t go out at night and he only wants to be asleep on my mum. He cries to go to bed and will keep at it until my mum gives in. He goes out for about 5 minutes a day realises he hates it and comes back in again.
The accommodation is temporary because it’s not the best but we are working with other housing providers. Stuff is in the pipeline but it will take a few months. This option was a last resort on the back of the council screwing us over.
I’m just wondering if there are anyways to make the transition smoother. There is a communal garden I don’t know what their rules are, put if mum could put him on a cat leash or something and just sit with him. Or if we could do anything to the apartment.
It’s a completely open space aside from a few cupboards which benefits from the sun. We’re thinking of getting him one of those cat play areas from pets at home too.

1330 Terran Front Fleet Time
On the Turinika homeworld, the first signs of unrest began to manifest like a wave, The broadcast of the most esteemed Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata, Taratanti of the roost Kazatalak, openly performing the act of Kavsa had been met with shock. The last Taratanti who had voluntarily performed Kavsa had done so in protest of the treatment of the Kulorn caste, nearly two thousand years prior. It was an ancient rite, one that signified rejection of the greatest shame. Even more shocking than the act itself was the evidence that had followed it. Visuals of species, brought into the Conclave, not as migrant workers as had been believed, but as slaves, was met with an almost immediate attempt at censorship. This attempt failed spectacularly, mostly due to those who had been tasked to censor the information not only refusing to follow the command, but openly declaring that they had been ordered to do so. A situation that was already, as the humans would say, out of hand, spiraled completely out of control. Within only twenty minutes of the ending of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s broadcast entire cities entered a state of absolute anarchy. Two planetary capitals were stormed and taken by the furious civilian population, demanding the location of those who had been enslaved. The Turinika Armada, which even then was in the middle of a training session meant to prepare the fleet to withstand the Terran Front’s assault, began to cease operations. Within the hour, the entire armada would be recalled to the turnika homeworld. Those who did not take to the streets simply stopped whatever work they were doing and went to their homes to be around their brood. Images of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata with his stripped wings spread wide in front of the human fleet commander were on every news fed of the Conclave, as was the sound of his thunderous voice, and the wails of despair from a turinika female that couldn’t be seen. Close ups of the human fleet commander’s face were shown, with analysts remarking on the shock, horror, and sympathy. Since the outbreak of the Seventh Orion War, the female human known as Simmons had been reported to have made several threats towards the turinika, she had quickly become seen as a warmonger, ready to take revenge against the turinika for refusing to go to war and violate their principles of pacifism. Now the images of her lunging forward to stop the violation of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s plumage, the agonized expression of her face, and the true reason for her threats against the turinika were rapidly reversing her image. On far flung deep core mining stations and agricultural stations, on deep space stations dedicated to material processing, and in other areas hidden from the sight of the normal turinikan population, overseers and taskmasters felt their hearts run cold at the knowledge that very soon, their part to play in the willful enslavement of another species would be known to the wider Conclave. As the data package transmitted alongside the broadcast were fully decompressed and the scale of the Conclave’s government’s involvement was revealed, the entirety of the Conclave itself was teetering on the verge of absolute pandemonium. The image of a member of the kolra species, from the look of it barely a hatchling, quickly was becoming the face of the entire incident. The picture was absolutely damning, and the sight of the image had sent any who saw it instantly into contorting and painful displays of shame. The young kolra was sprawled on it’s stomach, looking to the one taking it’s picture with eyes that had no life in them. It’s shell covered it’s back, and despite the age of the kolra it was already dulled and scuffed. The foot pressing down on the shell was unmistakably familiar to those who saw it, the clawed feet of a turinika. Within the hour, billions of winged figures stood in streets, the normally soft spoken and passive species demanding action, demanding justice, on the hundred worlds of the Turinika Conclave. The bulk of the Taratanti caste, most of whom had been left in the dark of the truth of the situation, quickly went public with their own declaration of outrage, and the eyes of the entire species turned inwards to the mountainous homeworld of their species.
Hakuri Watanabe looked down at his helmet before putting it on his bed, the stylized SEVEN seeming to stare at him. He sat down in his chair and picked up a small cloth from his buffing kit. No one knocked on his door, in fact, mostly he and the rest of his squad were left alone before a major operation. They were just given their time, time to mentally prepare. Some of his squad would go over their mission briefing, some, like him, would spend their time doing something to relax themselves. Hakuri always found that taking care of his suit calmed him considerably. Granted he could simply turn it over to the squads armorers to be tended to and they would do as good of a job as he could, but he preferred it to be done by his own hand. The symbol of a triangle was on his form fitting shirt, the symbol of his special operations command unit. He was known as a Myrmidon, but the official title of his unit was Section Three. He knew this, his superiors knew this, and as far as Hakuri knew, most of the Terran Front was aware of his unit’s existence, but past that, they knew very little about what he actually did. As far as his mother knew, Hakuri was a pencil pusher onboard the TFS Berlin, the troop mothership that all of his letters were sent from. He thought about writing her, but then again, he only liked to do that when he returned from a mission, not when he was expecting to go to one. If he tried to write her when he was waiting, he would just get anxious, and homesick. That wouldn’t do when he was dropping into a combat zone. That wouldn’t do at all. Hakuri instead started to buff his helmet, waiting for the word to come down which meant they were prepared to jump. A glance at the clock made him pause in his circular rotations. The clock said 1330. Operation Naked Sun was about to begin.
Tika was on his side, Kzia standing at the end of the medical bed that had been adjusted for his turinikan physiology. He felt cold in more ways than one. For his people, clothing was more of a decoration than a necessity, but without his protective plumage he felt the cold stabbing him through to his hollow bones. His diplomatic access was already gone, his privilege access revoked. He heard the broadcast for a preparation to jump, but he wasn’t truly listening. There was no question in his mind he had made the right decision. There was no question at all. One of the humans, a nurse, came to his side and gently laid a heavy blanket over him. The human’s hand lingered on his trembling body for a few moments before it was removed, and Tika glanced in their direction. The female was one of the ones who had responded first to the call for medical service for him, had heard what had happened and why. Tika had gotten very used to being glared at on this ship. He was hated, and he knew it. He knew he had deserved it. He was a party to the vral’s enslavement of the humans, the chua, and far too many others. When he had come to Thermopylae station, he had not even given that fact a single thought. He was born into power, being of the Taratanti. He belonged to the most powerful species and government in the entire quadrant of the galaxy. His people, while mighty, did not seek to use it. To him, they had simply been above it all. When the vral had approached him with the offer to sell captured species at first TIka had wanted to reject it out of hand, but a few had told him to go through with the sale. Such was the nature of this galaxy, or so he had believed. The weak were at the whims of the strong, and one’s place in the galaxy was determined only by the power they could wield. The turinika were not nearly the first to have taken a species and used it for slave labor, and while Tika did not approve of the deal, he had not fought it either. As he looked back to the wall, he remembered what the humans had taught him these last days. When he had arrived in Thermopylae he had assumed he would find the chua species to have been at the very least regulated to a subservient role, if not outright enslaved. Finding them sharing power was a curiosity. He had expected to be treated with all the honor and dignity that his station demanded, that the power of his government demanded. Fleet Marshal Simmons had disabused him of that, and had left him humiliated and shamed. As he had laid in the dark as Simmons had declared the Seventh Orion War, covered in his own filth, feeling as if at any moment he was going to be killed he knew true fear and horrific uncertainty for the first time in his life. He had never faced these emotions, these sensations before. He had always been in power. He had stood with the full might of the Turinika Conclave behind him. He had never known anything other than the superior position. Now, as he lay in the hospital bed, staring at the wall, he was ashamed of how arrogant, how blind, and how short sighted he had been. After he had risen from his own filth, he had desperately tried to convince his leadership of the strength of the Terran Front, how it matched or eclipsed their own. The Conclave was not the unchallenged power in the quadrant anymore. The terrans, the human and chua, had somehow defied fate. They had not fallen to the vral after ninety years of near constant conflict, and now if Tika was right they had come out of it nightmarishly stronger than before. Tika had actually begged to be heard by his superiors, and he had never come close to that once in his life. The chua homeworld however, had fully broken him. If he had not been on the Antares, had not been humbled beforehand, he knew that he would have just clapped his hands together and said that it was delightful. As the transmission from the chua homeworld had come in, and the rescue effort had begun, he could only wallow in his own shame. He had profited directly from the chua’s suffering, the human’s suffering. Again he had tried, and failed, to convince his people, and again he had failed. Being on the Antares, for him, was torture. The lights were too dim, every human and chua looked at him with nothing more than loathing and contempt, his entire worldview had been shattered from the way he viewed the galaxy to his own place in it. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the shadow of Simmons standing over him, her voice cold with a lethal rage, hearing her voice echo in his mind, seeing the glint from flashes of light shining in her eyes. ‘We Know.’ echoed in his mind in his sleep, the voice of the terrifying Fleet Marshal transforming into the sound of a vengeful god demanding compliance and promising retribution. Then he had watched the humans and chua, who he knew were preparing to go to war with his people, celebrating the return of the shesvie. Once more he had expected them to be integrated into the Terran Front, but as soon as he learned Simmons offer to them, and what it had entailed, he had been called to his room to answer the latest message from his people. Once again, his people had doubled down, the knowledge of the enslavement of the humans had been suppressed, and once more Tika found himself, and his people, standing against a Terran Front that had every justification to declare war, to right the wrongs that had been done to them. All the while, he knew something else. He knew that, after everything he had seen, that his people would lose. The turinika had not been to war for nearly two thousand years. His people were not ready for what the Terran Front could do, and after seeing what they had done to the vral so far, he knew his people were not ready for what the Terran Front would do. He was afraid of the dark. Tika was absolutely terrified of it now, because now he knew the monsters were real. Simmons had shown him that, but the humans, the chua, they were not the monsters. He was. He had refused to be one any more. He had announced his intentions to his staff, who had squalled in rejection, all but three. Kzia was the first to step to his side, Kikumot and Tziki had stepped forward as well. Never, in his most nightmarish dreams, did he ever think that he would stand in front of Simmons and voluntarily have his plumage stripped from him, performing the act of Kasva. He never thought that his staff would have ever compiled and transmitted the data package they had sent. He had never thought that he would betray his people, if only to save them. Simmons had changed that, the humans had changed that. He knew the terror of the dark, he knew fear for his people’s safety, he understood the horror of war, and for the first time in his long life he could truly look back at every interaction he had had, with every species, that had asked for help in their struggle for survival against the vral and truly understand their fear and desperation. Now he lay, his plumage stripped from him, his station revoked, his status removed, surrounded by a people who despised him. He wouldn’t have it any other way now. He knew that they would listen now, if not to him, then to the civilian masses of the Conclave that would not stand for what they had done. He prayed to the Great Mother often now, shivering in the dim light, hoping that it would be enough. He had been wrong, and in his error he had sullied his own people. He had made them complicit. Even now, he did not know how they would ever be forgiven, because right now he wasn’t quite sure he could ever forgive himself. As he heard the broadcast calling out on the ship, announcing one minute to jump, he felt a hand on his side, and looked up to the human nurse. She was smiling at him. Not a smile born of malice, or anger, but a genuine smile. She patted his side lightly, then turned to walk out of the room. For not even the twentieth time since he had come onboard Thermopylae, he was mystified by these people.
The bridge of the Dhampir was thrumming with music and the vibrations of the reactor and Conrad leaned forward in his chair mount, his eyes almost feral as he looked at the empty space that was the mandeville point. He was positively chomping at the bit. Batz was positively roaring the lyrics to the song that was blaring over the ships speakers. Rev and Dev sat side by side in their mounts, throwing their hands up in time with the pounding bass beat of the sound. Towns was the only one besides Conrad that was quiet, both of them looking towards the mandeville point with complete impatience. Conrad felt like jumping from his skin. Fidget, well, fidgetted, holding his hands over his headset and listening as if he were trying to hear secret messages in the music. They were ready, their pulses were racing. The crew of the Dhampir was positively vibrating. Conrad looked to the shipboard clock, seeing 1330 displayed, and his head snapped to Fidget, waiting for the word. They were going to run, they were going to chase, they were going to hunt.
Vicky sat back, looking towards Jess and Kukat as they slept. Jess was in her chair, Kukat in her medical bed. Vicky glanced back at the block print on the paper and read it for the fifth time. She read the individual lines, one at a time, cursing their existence. After reading through the message printed she let her hand hang again. Kukat would be released from medical tomorrow, and both her and Jess still thought they would be boarding the Thumper to join the Vellacore once more. Jess had talked non-stop about her quarters on the Vellacore the past few days, how she just wanted to be back in her room. Kukat was equally excited. Only Vicky didn’t share their excitement. They didn’t know yet. They didn’t know about their battlefield promotions, they didn’t know about their reassignments, they didn’t know the days of them working together were functionally over. Vicky looked down at her hand holding the paper again, and felt like crumpling it. She had lost her crew. She had lost them not due to negligence, or time, she had lost them to fame. Kukat was to be promoted to ensign, and was to be the sensor officer on the destroyer Hadrian, Jess was getting the same promotion, her station on the cruiser Victorious. Vicky? She was the sparkling new commanding officer of a destroyer that was arriving at Thermopylae in two days, the Quarrel. She never wanted this. She had turned down promotion after promotion that would take her from the cockpit of the Thumper, away from Kukat, away from Jess. She wanted to serve in this war in her own way, as a pilot, with the two who had made her life so enjoyable. Now though, they were to be split up, and there was nothing she could do about it. These promotions hadn’t come from simple seniority, they had come from High Command, as had the orders. Tomorrow, when Kukat was released, they would be ushered into the hanger bay of the Barrowmore. They would all three be awarded the Star of Terra, then they would be reassigned. Tonight was the last night they would all be together. Vicky wanted to wake them up, she wanted to tell them, to give them a chance to process it. As she looked to Kukat and Jess she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She held up the letter again, reading the first few lines, then she felt the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. She looked away, her heart panging with sadness, and stared at the wall. The clock read 1330.
Corporal Brandy was sitting on the small rack, with Janet Shippen sitting between his legs using his thighs as armrests. They were both dressed for the first time in the last few hours, both of them staring at the clock. This close to the reactors they could feel them beginning to spool up for the trip through hyperspace. When the news of the operation had come down they had elected to spend as much time together as possible, which Brandy had enjoyed to no end, and he had made sure Janet had as well. Brandy had even taken some time to reach out to his sister Victoria, a rarity for them both, as since they were children they were often barely able to speak to each other simply due to schedules. He had even told her about Janet, and although he hadn’t gotten a response from his sister yet he already knew what she would say. Janet nestled back against him, but he could feel her body was stiff. Neither of them knew what the next few months were going to hold. Their time together might be constricted, in fact, this might be the last few moments they were together for quite awhile. Brandy’s Ghouls were specialists, ship boarders. Chances are he was going to be extremely busy, as was she. He didn’t quite know how he felt about Janet, but he did know that beyond a shadow of a doubt he didn’t want to be away from her. Judging from how she was acting, she felt the same as him, conflicted about her relationship with him, but not wanting to be apart. He knew what he needed to tell her, that he had to get up, that he had to leave. The Ghouls were going to be assembled at 1345, ready to board. Her unit was going to be prepared at the same time, to begin taking on salvage. Her hands were like clamps on his legs, and from how tense she was, he wasn’t going to get up until she was good and ready. The clock on the wall switched to 1330. He stared at the clock, feeling like the clock was mocking him, when suddenly Janet leaned up and turned. Her hands took hold of his shoulders and she threw her body against his, her lips finding his own. Her arms wrapped around her frame and he tightened his grasp on her.
Simmons spread her hands over the panel in front of her, looking at the table. Seven points connected the recently reclaimed chua space to what was former Shesvie territory, and beyond that, the heart of the Vral Empire. Her lip curled in a wicked smile, On the digital display of the table the hyperspace lanes, and more importantly, the avenues of attack her fleet was preparing to take. She held out her hand, all five fingers splayed over the lanes, envisioning the war as it stood now. The war to come. Seven hyperspace lanes, seven systems, branching out into sixteen, branching out again to another twenty. The Antares herself was going to link up with the Barraki, and was set to simply plough through the next five systems to do so. Slowly she tightened her hand into a fist as she looked along the hyperspace lanes, seeing task forces lined up and ready to jump. Drones had already been sent through. The vral had forces along the border, but nothing that could withstand what was to come. Her fleet was ready. She was ready. The Seventh Orion War was at the end of it’s first month, and had taken back six systems. The first moves of Operation Naked Sun would double that and exceed it, then double it again. She had already given her speech, her task force commanders were ready. High Command had taken it’s time making this decision, and while she had railed against the delay that didn’t matter now. All along the front, individual task forces were joined into larger fleets, ready to jump into the next system and eliminate any vral defenses, but unlike now, they simply would not wait. Naked Sun was to be a lightning strike to cut off as much of the Vral Empire as possible, to deny them their own space, to imprison them on their own worlds. Task Forces were designed around three types of vessels combinations, Lighthammer Task Forces were comprised of corvettes and fast destroyers, the fastest vessels in the fleet, meant to take systems quickly, to devastate unprotected infrastructure, and to eliminate light resistance. Simply put, they were going to swarm into vral space, determine pockets of resistance, and move on. They were going to rip entire sections of vral space from them, calling in other task groups if needed. Thunder task groups were the primary capital fleets, meant to be sent into those pockets of resistance, and neutralizing them, joining with the Lighthammer groups if needed. The cruisers, carriers, battleships, they all belonged to these task forces. Her own task force was called the Nova task force, and it comprised only the Antares and it’s sizable fleet escort. Simmons glanced up at the clock, the time was 1329. She breathed in slowly, then unbidden the thought came to her head and she looked to the report from the two habitable planets that had been scanned by the drone cutters, the information having been relayed to her almost twenty minutes prior. She was not worried about the ground campaign, in fact a reserve fleet from Thermopylae would be the ones to escort the landing ships from planet to planet that her fleet left behind in it’s wake, isolated and defenseless from the wider Vral Empire. Fleet escorting was no longer her job, protecting ground invasions were no longer her job. Simmons was positively growling now, as her only job was to take her fleet and use it to rip the vral out of the stars. Still, the thought nagged at her. On both of the planets that her fleet was set to overrun, there were Vral ships in orbit. On the first, there was evidence that the Vral had been bombarding a small area of the surface, extremely similar in size to the hole that now existed on Zvitia, the planet that even now was being integrated into the Terran Front. In the second system it showed Vral ships in orbit, but whatever they were doing during the time they had taken the scans, whatever they were covering up, they didn’t seem to have gotten to it yet. On the radiological scan of the planet a massive bloom of electromagnetic energy painted a broad region of the planet blistering white. She had sent the images back to Earth, back to High Command, but no one seemed to know what was happening. The one thing that every analyst agreed on so far that was that whatever the blooms represented, it meant nothing good. She took another long look at the radiological scan, seeing the intensity of the radiation, and her lip curled in a snarl. She couldn’t think about that right now, but orders had already been given to notify her the moment that they had taken a planet that still bore the radiation signal. The vral were being damned fastidious about it though. She pulled her thoughts away from it, looking back to the hyperspace lanes. The slow grin entered her features again. She glanced at the clock. 1330. Her hand took hold of the receiver next to her station and she pressed the transmission stud, knowing that Hazard had already opened a channel to the wider fleet.
“Commence.”

Captains, yes yes the factory's being built and that's great, but something awful has happened at one of the coal mines!
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Stat Chart:

Healthcare: 3/5 (Average) Capacity: 28 Treating: 27 (Sick 10, Injured 12, Gravely Ill 5) Healed per Day: 21 Untreated: 0	Carehouse Capacity: 15/15 Treating: 10 Engineers (Amputees), 5 Workers (Amputees)	Hope: 5/9 (Optimistic)	Discontent: 5/7 (Resentful)
Raw Materials: 160 +58/Day +10% Hope Bonus	Coal Production: +462/Day +15% Foreman Bonus on two mines Coal Usage: 435/Day Coal: 2915	Ration Production: 33/day Ration Consumption: 28/day Rations: 685 Estimated Days of Rations: 24	Steam Cores: 0
Natural Temperature: Freezing (-25°C)	Home Temperature: Citizens Living in Warm (+10°C) Housing: 336	Work Temperature: Sufficiently heated workplaces: 10 Insufficiently heated workplaces: 12	Fatigue: 3/7 (Overworked)
Population: (368 Citizens) (136 Workers) (32 Guards) (63 Engineers) (32 Medical Personnel) (32 Administrators) (14 Scouts) (59 Children)	Coal Mine Safety: 3/5 (Hazardous) -1 Base Safety -3 Toxic Fumes +1 Air Shafts +1 Ventilation Plant	Scouts: Unit #01 - 4 Unit #02 - 5 Polaris Scouts - 5	Guards: 0/32 Guard Posts - 30 Guard Booth - 2
Workers: 11/136 Coal Miners - 45 Steel Workers - 5 Lumberers - 15 Gardeners - 30 Amputees - 5 Hunters - 15 Prostitutes - 5 Cookhouse Amputees - 5	Engineers: 1/63 Researchers - 5 Amputees - 12 Gardeners - 10 Lumberers - 15 Steel Workers - 10 Foremen - 3 Generator Maintenance - 10	Medical Personnel: 4/32 Medical Cabins - 25 Care house - 2 Arrested - 1	Administrators: 7/32 Public House - 5 Guard Office - 6 Child Shelter - 4 Department of Information - 10

Coal Mine Catastrophe CAVE-IN!
Captains, there has just been a cave-in! The exact cause and casualties remain unknown. However, we can confirm that one of the miners, Abel Rockwell, was last seen in the collapsed mine, and is most likely trapped. A rescue team has been formed, and the operation will begin soon.
Currently, the team has already reported that a massive amount of methane gas has been released and built up down in the mine, way past the level of what our ventilation plant can normally handle. The workers are requesting to set the plant on overdrive. However, this will consume a large amount of coal and likely damage the plant for the next few days. Unless we assign some professionals who can monitor the equipment… at the cost of their safety.
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We Cannot Afford To Overdrive The Ventilation Plant The difficulty of this rescue operation will greatly increase. Hope falls by 2. Discontent rises by 1.
We'll Overdrive The Ventilation Plant The difficulty of this rescue operation will decrease. 800 Coal will be spent. The ventilation plant will be broken for the next few days. Hope rises by 1.
We'll Overdrive The Ventilation Plant, And Assign Engineers To Monitor It The difficulty of this rescue operation will decrease. 800 Coal will be spent. The ventilation plant may be shut off before major damage could occur. The Generator Maintenance Crew will be watching over the ventilation plant, and may be in danger if an accident happens. Hope rises by 1.
View Poll

To preface, I am only a rising second year, so I understand that I have plenty of time and that my interests could very easily change.
So before medical school, I was an EMT for a 911 rescue squad. I loved and still do love the acute nature of stabilizing a trauma patient or running a code on a cardiac arrest. I love using my hands. Because of this, I have been gung ho about going into emergency medicine.
Here lately though, I have realized that I will likely want to be a larger part in my patient's recovery. I want to be the guy getting his hands dirty, but I also would like to be there as the patient recovers, as I'd hate to stabilize and dump off to the next doctor.
With these things said, what specialty would you all say best fits this? Critical care? IM hospitalist? Surgery?
Thanks!

Hi everyone just want to share this. He’s been on Royal Canin PR (peas and rabbit) for sensitive stomach his whole fife of 13 yrs. He’s been recently diagnosed with KD and starting a year ago has been eating it with porous one sprinkled on top. I rescued him several months ago and the vet I took him too told me he has to get off that as it is high protein and try to get him on wet food. I have tried everything. He even doesn’t like Churro! He didn’t like fancy feast gravy lovers, weruva all flavors including Checkmate and Cloud 9 or any other recommendations from this forum. I tried the WeruvaWX he wouldn’t eat. I spent hundreds on food he won’t eat. I picked up the packet of Weruva Jeapordy licious slide and serve in a pouch. It is chicken flavor. He loves it!! He also loves the weruva slide and serve chicken and salmon and the weruva slide and serve Wheel of Fortune chicken with chicken livers! He love all 3 and I can put his medication potassium and he will lap it up. I add water to make it soupy. When I’m not medicating I sprinkle the porous one on it. I make sure to remove the porous one treated food 3 hrs before and after medicating him! Wanted to share this for all you owners of super finicky cats!!

I work in a medical scrub store, so I have to wear scrubs; long bottoms and socks and shoes. They are very strict with the dress code. For a few weeks now the AC has not been turning on at all. The temperature only fluctuates with the temperature outside. Even if the thermostat is set to 68 in the morning, it slowly climbs up to 75 by 3pm (when I usually clock in) and it is very difficult to work and breathe for me. By the end of the shift around 7-8 it gets as high as 78. I’ve asked my manager a few times to have someone come fix it, but she says the company gets billed whenever they call someone to look at it and she’d rather wait for when the AC company comes to do their routinely checks—or wait for the regional manager or owner to worry about it when one of them come down in mid June (which I have no idea how likely it will be that they will actually come to this location by then).
I understand it costs the company money to do things like that, but it is directly affecting my asthma, and making it hard to work in here for my coworkers as well. Even the customers have started making comments on the heat in here. We have a small fan we can sit in front of behind the counter, but it still leaves me huffing and puffing (even after taking my rescue inhaler) if I have to help a customer or do something across the store. I now get light headed and feel like I’m going to pass out at work quite often, and there is no sense of relief since it is also just as hot outside.
However, I don’t want to create contention between my manager and I, since I have already brought it up to her quite a few times already, and she seems pretty adamant with her decision. But it’s really miserable at work and I don’t want to have an actual asthma attack or pass out. Another issue is, I am really sensitive to my albuterol (my rescue inhaler, I take QVAR twice daily and a singulair (montelukast) pill before bed), so my heart starts racing and I get incredibly shaky after taking it. My asthma diagnosis is also pretty new and is not very well managed right now, I’m still trying to figure out how to effectively treat it. In the end, either way, I am physically uncomfortable and there isn’t much I can do at this point—at least I don’t think. Thoughts?

What usually causes metacarpal fractures? One of the only things I know about my second rescue cat is that he had left forelimb metacarpal fractures (III/IV distally fractured, V proximally fractured). He was found with his leg injured and the initial examination noted crepitus of the left carpal region and no other abnormality detected.
That was years ago and he was missing a few incisors as well. I know it’s impossible to know for sure but just wandering what are the most common causes for this pattern of fractures?
Edit to add: While I don’t have the x-rays done, the medical records say he had a splint for it and cage rest so I presume this means there weren’t a lot of displacements hence the conservative treatment and no surgical intervention?

Today, I lost our Alfie after 11 years with us.
Alfie was a rescue that we met 11 years ago, to this day. A small, chihuahua mix – he was often timid with others and people, but for some reason, grew very interested in us at the dog park day. We were there to actually review adopting another dog, but that dog took no interest. Instead, Alfie (then named Rugger) followed us around the dog park as my partner (now husband) and I walked around the dog park. We would look back, and there he was – checking us out and shyly walking the other direction each time we caught him. Our heart became set on him, and as he sat in the back while other more aggressive dogs with their love came forward, we were set on him and pushed our way through the crowd to get back to him.
Right away, we could tell that he was possibly abused as a stray from San Bernardino. He was cautious and hated us picking him up – his body would fall flat to the floor. Regardless, he still worked through his timidness and crawled into bed and went under the sheets on our first night and slept with this. He always felt shy and timid with strangers, never scared just not too sure, but he blossomed and showcased his love, fun and energy with us. We always got to see him for all he is and could be. I could tell that he trusted us – and I know that sounds cliché since I’m sure every pet parent feels this way, but it seems like he knew we would always have his back. He never left our side and would come with us to family gatherings just as if a child would. He was our baby and he knew it.
Last year, kidney disease popped up on our radar at stage 2 – it was a shock, but after 10 years and an unknown true age (rescue estimated 3, vet estimated 4-5), we knew that we were getting into this old age problems. Suddenly, his teeth got bad – and we were hesitant to do anesthesia. But they got worse and worse as in the case of most Chihuahua’s, and we did some blood work to see if he was stable before scheduling an appointment. Then we were told it was stage 3.
He was so uncomfortable with his mouth, we knew we had to do something – but then we started considering his medications, his back injections, his anemia, his lethargy, his qualify of life… We made a decision, then it was back and forth on some good days, til it wasn’t. We made the decision to put him down yesterday, and this AM the vet came over and put him down in the living room with him in my arms.
I am absolutely heartbroken and I cannot stop crying. I’m physically feeling pain in all parts of my body. My head hurts, my nose hurts, my eyes hurt, my throat hurts, my chest hurts… everything is just hurting from nonstop convulsing crying. The vet said he was passing already from the sounds of it and her visual examination, and not even a half dose of his sedative caused him to start going and an irregular heart beat (he pulled away yelping from the injection). But I can’t shake that I chose this and chose his death. I can’t get rid of this guilt and this horrible feeling. And then I remember everything, then I focus on missing him, then its guilt, and now its me being pissed that I didn’t get more time with him and that this feels so unfair and how dare God take him from me with conditions that led us to this point.
I don’t know what to do. I am just repeating everything in my head nonstop. I keep expecting him laying right next to me and to feel his warmth, or him asking for help onto the bed or couch. I can’t stand to look at all the things that gave him joy (being a Chihuahua from CA in Washington State, mostly blankets and space heaters). Everything is causing me grief and pain. I feel like this is excessive but I cannot stop – it’s been 7 hours but I don’t know. This feels like too much and I don’t know if I’m strong enough.
I don’t even know what I’m looking for, it just seemed like someone could take this mess and tell me something. Anything. I just miss my boy and the only thing that would make me feel better is having him back. This is just too hard. I know he may have been up to 16 years old, but this still just kills me.

So I seated for the PCP entrance exam in a Calgary school last week. It failed - I didn’t expect them to ask so many high school mathematics questions. I had been solely focused on the medical questions - but what was most memorable about it was the scenario test. It was wild. I am not sure if I did something wrong or the instructor intentionally made it that way. Obviously I made some mistakes, but perhaps there’s something else I did not catch. Let’s see what you guys think about it.
The patient is sitting on a park bench. It is a sunny day. He complained of a shortness of breathe. Initial assessment found rapid and shallow breathing, rapid HR, pale and clammy skin, cyanosis on extremities (15L O2 given), and some kind of hive/rash on the skin. Strider was heard but the airway was patent.
I suspected anaphylaxis and went for the EpiPen. (First mistake made: I forgot that as EMR I was only supposed to assist the patient in taking their own medication) The patient did carry EpiPen and a Ventolin puffer. I went through the whole sequence of drug administration (6 rights > Color, Clarity, Concentration, Expiration, etc) and assist the patient in self-administration on the side of his thigh.
But the pt’ vitals were unchanged. So I continued with the head to toe. Wheezing was noted on both lungs. Of interest was that there was no pulse on the patient’s feet, but he could move them.
The pt was unable to stand, so we transferred him to the stretcher via rescue seat. Due to compromise in ABC I called it a load and go. Upon moving on-board, reassessment found no change in patient’s condition. Vitals were taken and revealed no change. HR and RR remain very high. SpO2 is low. BP and BGL are both normal.
I chose not to use the Ventolin because it would have worsened the tachycardia. 15L O2 remains on. I am also unsure of the patient’s condition. Regarding the shock-like condition, I chose not to put the pt in the Trendelenburg position - the pt was already in respiratory distress and was being transported in high Fowler position. Beside the O2, the only thing I could do was to keep the patient warm. (2nd mistake: I didn’t call medical control. Though I m not sure if it is even an option to begin with.)
En route, pt suddenly went unconscious. I found no breathing (3nd mistake made: I assessed in the ABC order instead of CAB). At that point I didn’t realize it was a code, so my initial reaction was to check gag reflex > inserted the OPA > BVM at 5-6 BPM. But then I got to the pulse and found that he actually had no pulse as well. Shit. I instructed my partner to go light and siren and sped up, while I began one-person resuscitation.
(Potential mistake: prompt transport is not in the life chain. So perhaps I should have stopped the truck and have my partner assisted me?)
I put on the AED first before I worked on the CPR. For rescue breath I opined for the pocket mask in lieu of the BVM. I justified it on the ground that I won’t have time to work the BVM while I was working on both the CPR and AED.
Two shocks from the AED and more than two minutes of CPR later, the pt achieved ROSC. He is breathing 4 time a minute. I replugged the 15L O2 (mistake) but then I realized the mistake and then immediately shifted to the BVM, giving breath at 5-6 BPM.
Eventually, the patient made it to the hospital. Scenario was over.
So that’s it. It’s very unlike the scenarios I undertook in EMR school, where the pt usually had only one condition. This pt seemed to have multiple conditions at once. And I really could not fathom which single medical condition could cause all those respiratory distress and a loss of pulse in both feet.
Any help before I retake the test three months later is greatly appreciated.

Hi all, I have a 1.5 year old shih tzu mix who we rescued when he was 9 months old. He was born with a cleft lip and palate to a backyard breeder. He has a brother with behavioral issues in a shelter. His DNA test said he's extremely inbred. I'm giving this as context because I'm not sure if he can be trained.
He is a sweet dog, but bites people, often with no provocation. He broke skin once slightly when we first got him. Otherwise he hasn't caused injury-the bites could be described as nipping. This is a big problem and worse because I have younger kids. He also pees and poops in the house despite going to a trainer and following all the house training advice. We have taken him out to pee as often as every 30 minutes without success. He has periods of constant barking and has separation anxiety. We don't leave him alone very often. He is extremely high energy. Impossible to tire out. We have worked with two trainers and followed the advice we were given consistently. The trainer said she didn't feel he was an aggressive dog, it was more like he never got the puppy nipping trained out of him. But now it's been 7 months of working with him and very little improvement.
I have an upcoming appt with our regular vet (she's evaluated him before and he didn't have any medical problems then). My friend thinks we need a vet behaviorist.
Any suggestions for a vet behaviorist in MA (preferably Boston area, but we'll drive if necessary)? Also, can anyone give me a ballpark of cost in MA? We have Trupanion, but I don't think this cost will be covered. Thanks so much.

If you have any to spare, that is. I’m probably just freaking myself out. Probably. Really, I’m very anxiety prone and take meds for it and everything. But I need some kind of reality check because I’m climbing the walls.
I’m just over three years out from my lumpectomy, I get scans every 6 months and my January mammo was clean. Great argument that this is nothing. And of course it probably is.
But for about a week now, I’ve been having pain in the bad breast again. And I’m scared.
Medical history: super hormone receptive, small IDC, clean margins (after a botched surgery that needed a revision) and a bunch of scar tissue in a ridge in there. It was painful for a long time, and I was eventually treated for a neuroma. The pain in the surgical site pretty much stopped after that. Until now.
Well, and there’s a lump near the scar tissue that I kind of don’t remember being there? It might be new? I’m honestly not sure. And it’s where the pain has been coming from. I tried Tylenol and Advil and Aleve, but they didn’t help this little nagging, pinching pain. So on Friday I called my onco’s nurse. Left them a message describing it about like I did here. They called back and said Dr will see me in clinic Tuesday. And that he was calling me in something to help w the pain.
I went to the pharmacy and he had given me fucking Norco???!?! Like 28 of them? This made me much more scared, actually, because my experience has been that doctors very seldom hand out pain pills. And I hadn’t asked for them! I mentioned the OTC stuff not working more as a justification for why I took this little pain seriously enough to call it in.
Is there anything you all would suggest to calm myself the fuck down? I’m so tired of being scared. I don’t have a support network of any kind. I’m a single parent and I don’t want to tell my teenager because she also worries excessively and why would I burden her with my fear right now?
Ugh. Anyway. Sorry for the word salad, thank you for reading.

[FIRST][LAST]
Atlantis Commission
Officer Report - Lieutenant Colonel John Shepard
CLEARANCE LEVEL 5
Well this had definitely been a very interesting couple of hours. This dimension and its people had very odd opinions and ideas. Apparently the prey species of this dimension were all obligate cowards, whose instincts compelled them to be non-violent and run from threats. At least according to themselves. There were apparently some of them who were “predator diseased” as they called it, a disease which often resulted in increased violence, aggression, lack of empathy, and unheard like behavior. It sounded to me like some form of infectious psychopathy, but the venlil assured us it shouldn't affect us since we were predators, which didn’t really ease my fears, but hopefully it was something we could figure out when we got home if it ever became a problem.
Gotta love mandatory quarantine periods woo hoo!
As scary as this odd disease sounded, my main concern at the moment was to try and turn a professed coward into someone who could at the very least defend themselves.
I looked down to the table of gear ahead of me and then over to the mostly naked Venlil to my side, and then even farther to Tiel’c who thought It would be a good idea to help oversee Farva’s rapid fire training course. I fiddled with the bluetooth earpiece which was rigged up to one of our handhelds to run a translation program to speak directly with the captain. A big step up from our unknowingly one sided communications earlier.
I stepped on the other side of the plastic table and placed my hands down upon it and looked on at my new student..
“Welcome Captain Farva to our very impromptu accelerated course on Human arms armor and basic infantry tactics.” I said gesturing to the hodge podge gear we had managed to assemble for the good captain. “Are we ready to begin?”.
She flicked her ears, somewhat nervously by the looks.
“I’d take it that's a yes then?”
“Oh yes sorry”
“Alright then, well given that most of our crew is human and the only other alien struts around naked all the time, the only gear we have on hand is for humans, So you're going to be running size smalls and it's all going to fit all a bit big” I say as I toss her the tactical vest. ”Here try this on, we can try to tighten it up if it's a bit loose anywhere”. The captain wrestles with the buckles a bit, and Teal'c helps her tighten up some of the top straps, as the Venil’s shoulders weren't as broad as humans. Farva gave Teal’c an odd look, but seemed appreciative none the less.Once finished, she grasped the vest in her paws with interest. “This armor seems quite lightweight, which is nice, weight is often an issue that causes us to forgo armor, since heavy armor would hurt our running ability.” Farva remarks. “Also the sheer amount of pockets seems quite excessive, what do you need all these for?”
“Well for starters it's currently missing these '' I hand Farva one of the armor plates which she looks over. “That is a depleted Naquadria ceramic composite plate. It’s designed to stop bullet impacts and dissipate energy weapon blasts. It slots into that chest compartment in the front and back of your armor.”
“This isn't quite what Id imagine for the armor of your kind”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well judging by your ships I would have imagined you would put more emphasis on defense Your predatory nature would make you less likely to run away from conflict allowing for more encompassing armor to cover more than just your chest, since you have less need to run.”
She would put it like that.
“Well there are a number of reasons for that, a lot to do with those excess pockets you mentioned. For starters you will not be carrying the same amount of gear that the standard infantry unit would normally be carrying, we are preparing you for a quick in and out op. Normally us expedition teams need to be deployed into unknown territory for extended periods of time, we need to carry everything we might need with us from food, bullets, weapons, to comms gear, sensors, repelling equipment etc. The weight from all that gear adds up fast; In order to stay sufficiently mobile and combat effective; we only carry enough armor to protect our vitals, head and torso, anything else can hopefully be patched up by a field medic.”
Tielc gave his piece as well. “It is important to know when to run both towards and aways from one's foes, not every battle can be won through strength alone, but by strategy and cunning. Being able to reposition oneself quickly is therefore highly advantageous”
Farva seemed to freeze at Teal'c's statement, not out of fear I think, she instead had a distant look in her eye. To snap her out of her slump I handed her a standard ballistic helmet.
Seeming to get the idea she looked at it oddly and tried it on. It confirmed to her head shape decently well but depressed her ears to either side of her head, kind of resembling what one might imagine a sad bunny rabbit to look like “I don't think this will be something I can bring with me” she said ” I can't use ear signals and this will muffle my hearing.”
“Why don’t you keep it on for the time being, I think any extra hearing protection might be useful considering what we are about to try next.” I hand Farva some ballistic ear protectors, slightly modified and somewhat ramshackle. “One of the corporals worked closely with Nurse Fila to get an idea for safe decibels levels for your kind, we were also able to get these earbuds molded to fit into your ear canal better”
Farva took them and slipped them in. “These are a bit uncomfortable, what do I need these for?”
“You'll need them for this” I say as I unsnap the clasps on the weapons case revealing its contents.
The content seems to capture Farva’s interest, getting a slight tail wave.
“Okay So this here is a p90, It carries a 50 round top loading magazine of teflon coated armor piercing ordnance. With a cyclical rate of fire of 900 rounds per minute.”
Farvas ears perk up at this. “This seems like an efficient design, I take it these are a flashlight and laser sight for accuracy?” She asked, pointing to the top of the weapon.
“Yes we also have holographic and acog optics which will help line up targets from farther away.” I look on as Farva picks up the weapon and inspects it, testing the weight as I note that it will weigh a fair bit more once loaded. But she doesn't seem to be struggling with the weight. I can't help but notice good firearm safety as well, she keeps her finger well off the trigger and takes care to keep her weapon pointed aways from anyone else.
“This seems like a solid design but I'm not sure how useful those weapon optics would be, as they are not designed for my side facing eyes”
“I'm sure our master at arms can figure something out, why don't we give it a test fire first tho, before we send it off to make adjustments.” I instruct her on how to load the weapon and turn the safety off. I warn her of the sound it makes. And while definitely taken aback by the recoil and sound at first, she quickly gets the hang of it, she has some respectable shot groupings in both single fire and in short bursts. And keeps the rounds reasonably centered while firing in full auto.
She did a whole lot better than I would have initially suspected given her performance in the hanger bay a day before.
“The rate of fire seems useful” Farva spoke “This would be useful for our soldiers, our accuracy falters when we are panicked, and the increased shot count should guarantee some hits based on volume of fire alone” she finished with a dejected expression.
She quickly places the weapon back in its case, as if it burned to touch.” I don't know if I should be armed for this mission, at least not with that weapon, I don't want to miss and hit one of you in the back!”
“What? Nonsense, you are a great shot, and this is just a precaution in case we get separated or flanked and need some covering fire. If our guys are doing their job right you shouldn't need to fire a single round anyways.”
Captain Farva’s breathing started to hasten, earlier I might have thought it was fear, but I was starting to get an idea of what the captain's issues were. I’ve seen this before.
“I.. I can’t be trusted with this responsibility, every time I am left in charge of something, every time people put their lives in my paws I ....”
“Farva, don’t you start with me now you hear.” I said sternly, swiftly capping off her inevitable spiral of self doubt.
“But.. no.. you don’t understand”
Stopping her again I spoke. “But nothing, what happened before on that ship, and back at that colony is in the past. I don’t know your whole situation, but from what I have gathered from the crew It was nothing good. You feel responsible and it's eating away at you, and frankly it doesn’t matter if that's true or not. Accidents happen, people make mistakes, and when that happens we need to learn, take those lessons to heart, and don't let it stop us from helping people in the present. If you let guilt, or fear of mistakes stop you, then bad guys have already won, all without having to have fired a shot”
Farva is quiet for a short time, I was hoping I got through to her, I'm not the best and pep talks and this certainly wasn’t your typical weapons demo, if only everyones could go as smoothly as Ronan’s.
Farva spoke quietly, arms pressed up against her chest, she looked so sad, defeated, and small. Well more than usual anyways. “We can't be strong like you humans, we are too emotional and when we are scared we run away or we lock up and...”
“And that is clearly not the case with you captain Farva” Teal’c finally reentered the conversation having heard enough. “You have shown courage with every action you have taken so far, your actions have saved the lives of many of your crew, every time you have been threatened you acted not just to protect yourself but others as well. You attempted to contend with beings many times your size without even thinking about it, all in the effort to protect others, and this is only in the time we have known you, this speaks nothing of your actions over the colony. You are a warrior of admirable courage Captain Farva, your self doubt is unearned.”
A single tear rolled down Farva’s eyes which she quickly wiped away. “That was very nice of you to say, but I'm not brave like you say, I was terrified out of my mind the whole time.”
Teal’c looked puzzled. “I did not call you brave, I said you were courageous.”
Farva shot back with the little venlil one up one down ear flick I had very quickly learned was confusion.” I'm confused you just said brave twice”
“Hmm it appears your language does not contain the word I am using, I apologize I am not used to speaking through a translator” Teal’c relented “ There are two words I am using admittedly in slightly different forms, bravery and courage. Bravery or to be brave is to lack fear, to not be afraid to begin with. Courage tho, Is a trait far more admirable. Courage is to be afraid, to have fear, to worry about one's own mortality and personal safety. It is to acknowledge risk, danger, to feel fear, but to act in spite of it.”
“Had I not met your kind before I would have thought predators don't feel fear.”
“Everyone fears feel Farva, It is how we overcome it that determines our worth as warriors”
Teal’c picks up the p90 and returns it to Farvas hands.
“Your people need a warrior Farva, a warrior who protects the innocent and guides the lost to safety. You have shown how collected you can be in the heat of battle, You have already proven your worth in our eyes Farva, now you must do the same in your own. The greatest enemy lies not without” Teal’c places his hand firmly on the venlil’s chest “But within”.
After Action Report - Venlil Colonial Defense Force
Subject : Chief Engineer Donu
I fiddled with my holopad, Its small surface area proving to be a consistent source of annoyance in my current endeavor. Gone was the large workspace afforded to me by my holotable back in my office. Instead I had to work with the scaled down portable holotablet I was just fortunate enough to have strapped to my person when I was beamed away from our last ship. I was stuck with its smaller keyboard and slower rendering speeds.
An annoyed smooth skin alien looked over my shoulder at my device, attached to it was a jury rigged fiber optic cable, slotted into a terran silicon to crystal patch cable, which would convert the electrical signals broadcasted by my tablet into a bandwidth that the terrans crystalline based computers; which they used for highly complex tasks like hyperdrive and transporter systems; could use, and then It was patched again in a even stranger connector to patch into the odd asgard computer stones.
All in all it looked like someone tried to plug a regular computer into some crystal construct like you would find in a fantasy holonovel, and again plugged that into a harchen heat rock sauna lounge. Finally branching out from this conglomeration was a simple copper based wire that connects to a computer terminal at which currently sat the late Doctor Rodney Mckay. A title upon initially hearing led me to believe he was a medical doctor, which led to a flurry of medical questions that he had absolutely no means of answering.
While this odd alien nomenclature was interesting, what intrigued me more was his actual area of expertise, theoretical astrophysics, as well as a number of other diverse specialties and fields. Not to mention not only was he a great scientist who had he been raised in the more civilized portion of this galaxy, would have knowledge and aptitude that would put him alongside some of Aafas greatest minds, but he was also an engineer without peer, at least in this galaxy. His interactions with general Samantha Carter hinted at her possibly being his match if not more. For a species that was supposed to glorify violence the decision to have a scientist be arguably the most senior member of what was by their admission a military vessel spoke to their commitment to knowledge and understanding, a very noble prey-like goal.
I looked warily at the lines of code at my screen, the asguard translation program had earlier scanned our ship and was able to parse written languages, but complex files, like images and 3d design schematics were harder to encode and decode from our perspective systems. As is stands we have 3 completely separate computer architectures, the asguard can talk to human computers and the venlil computers can talk to the asguard computers, It sounds like we would have everything we need to get a human C.A.D schematic into a venlil holotablet right? Wrong! And you're stupid for entertaining such a idiotic notion! Parsing text from raw binary is relatively straight forward, you're just looking for patterns, repeating bit combinations that might infer letters and then iterating them over millions of times looking for patterns, letters, words, and then with a bit of help from some undecoded analog audio transmission, spoken language. This is a far cry from actual procedural communication protocols,the ones that allow for file transfers, exactly what we needed if we were to get Rodney's redesigned part schematics into a format and medium that can be plugged into a suitable fabricator. Assuming one still exists, which I can reasonably assume it does.
Speaking of which, I have just made something of a breakthrough. For upon my screen appears a simple geometric hydrogen cube, we’re talking vertices, planes, material data, everything we need for a usable design file.
I let out an excited pent up yip, the culmination of hours of frustrating software integration work. Unfortunately I startled Rodney, who lets out a panicked gasp and clutches his chest pelts with one of his paws.
“Oh god…..” He gasps, pointing at me “Please.. don’t do that”
“Sorry!” I say a bit meekly. I slowly approach him so as to not make him unnecessarily uncomfortable and show him my work.
“I got the file exchange set up, all we need from you is to finish any modifications to your part, upload them to my holopad, and then we can print away at any class 3 or above fabricator we can scrounge up on Brayga colony.”
“Ok.. um.. got it, I'm almost done i’m just you know” He points a lone grasping appendage at his screen,”Running some simulations, making sure everything is up to spec.” keeping his response kurt. “Sorry for freaking out there.”
I nod my head in the human display of affirmation and return to my workstation to further bug check my work, to test potentially problematic edge cases for when he finishes. Tho Rodney's continued odd behavior intruded on my thoughts.
I should have felt empowered, being able to intimidate this ‘massive beast’, but I didn't. I didn't like being feared, his people have been nice to me, Rodney himself courteous to a fault and desperate for positive attention.
I thought I could expect predators to be fearless but that clearly wasn't the case, rodney was fearful, nervous, had I not known better I would say defective, and while it annoyed his crew, they didn't berate him for it, or attempt to assert dominance, they encouraged it even with placating words and tried to help him through it, they encouraged and supported him like a proper herd, even if sometimes it took the form of what the human would call a playful ribbing. I supposed I could help him as well.
I approached him again, careful to make my approach known to him, making sure to approach from within his limited field of vision. He looks up at me with a wide eyed glare, had I not known him I might have assumed it was hunger, but I did and knew it to be concern.
“Uh high Donu.. um whats up?”
“Why are you afraid of us rodney?”
“Wa-What, me afraid?” he gives out a panicked laugh ”uh no no, I'm not afraid, you know just a bit weirded out I'm just getting used to you all, it's not a fear thing it's a a…. Just getting used to new aliens thing, ask Hermirod we went through this whole song and dance right buddy”
Hermirod furrowed his brow and gave an irritated sigh from across the room.
I reached out to take Rodney by the paw.
His whole body flinched at my mere touch, I quickly withdrew my paw.
“Oh.. um.. I didn't…”
“Rodney! It's okay, your crew doesn’t seem to care when you show fear, and neither do I. Why are you afraid of us? You are almost twice our size and surely double our strength, most venlil would scream and run in terror at the mere sight of you. What's wrong?”
Rodney let out a sigh. “Oh its, we don't have to talk about this, I can deal with this, I deal with scary situations all the time, it's fine, I'll be fine.”
“Rodney, my people are a very emotional, empathic people, we are open with our feelings and with our fear, and the fear of the one can affect the herd, please let me help you. I don’t know what to expect from your society but I promise I wont judge you for your fear or emotions, I mean look at many of my crew mates, we are no one to judge”
Rodney shot back “You didn't seem to be so bothered”
“I’m too old to care, I was about to retire, hell I was about to die as far as I knew, Brayga colony was supposed to be a quiet place to lay back, work on some hobbies, plant a garden and pester the young men of my colony until I either dropped dead of boredom or got lucky” I joked.
That seemed to raise Rodney's mood somewhat. He sighed and seemingly relented.
“It’s… a dumb story, I don't even know why it affected me so much, I come from a place on earth called Canada, people don't usually believe me when I say I am from there, us Canadians are notoriously friendly and I guess I haven’t exactly filled that mold for a lot of my life, but hey I'm working on it, people like me, I have lots of friends back at Atlantis” He says the last sentence in a way as if it isn't me he's trying to convince.
“I'm sure you do, Rodney, You seem like quite the charming individual when you're not cowering!”
“Ha ha thanks, maybe you could come and visit sometime. Tell that to doctor Becket, really nice guy, smart man, he would love to meet you, he loves investigating new species. But back on topic, oh boy, so me and my sister Jeannie were on a family trip to rural Vancouver to visit my grandpa's farm, he kept a lot of goats, not for eating or anything, they were essentially pets that he would use for milk”
“Wait hold on? You drink milk from other animals! Do your females not produce enough milk for their young?”
“Oh um no, we just sort of drink it or ferment it into cheese!”
“Ferment? You mean spoil?
“Yeh”
I reeled from this plasma blast of a statement, I like any right minded venlil had a number of nightmares about being an arxur’s cattle before, especially when I first learned about those things in primary school, but never once had it crossed my mind that we could be used for something so weird. What the speh was I supposed to do with that information?
“Maybe you should get back on topic”
“Yeh sorry about that uh.. Anyways the momma goat had just had a litter of babies, and their real cute when their little, so late in the day when my grandpa was asleep we snuck out to the pens so we can play with the little baby goats, our grandpa told us not to but you now how kids are.”
At this I think back to a young Nyan, as I teach him the inner working of the hyperdrive, I tell him he’s not cleared yet to operate in this engine compartment alone, but I could tell from the occasional caught black hairs and dropped writing implements, there had been a number of curious unauthorized expeditions into its inner workings, he didn't really listen either.
“My sister as always was trying to be the voice of reason, wanting to take it slow. If I was paying attention I might have noticed the angry moma goat who didn’t appreciate the strange human messing with her children.”
The color seemed to drain from his face.
“I uh…” He began to stutter again ”I screamed, a lot, it was rather undignified, she ran right at me, thank god it wasn't a male goat, one with horns, I tired to run but I was hit in the back and knocked over and kicked real good in the head, like wake up in the vet clinic a quarter mile down the road kind of bad”
“This goat was a prey animal?”
“That would be what your kind focuses on”
“Oh sorry”
“Anyways It seems dumb but I have just never been good with animals since then, especially ones that look like you; no offense; I'm getting better but when I first saw you guys in the hangar bay, I was just that dumb kid again, getting in way over my head, scared for my life. I guess there is something to be said about childhood trauma. I really should be over this, I'm getting better with it I swear it’s just”
I take his paw again, he doesn't flinch this time.
“I'm a venlil, a prey animal, I know fear, I know what it is to live in fear, It rattles your brain, it turns your paws to wet grains. It takes great strength to overcome it, to push it aside just long enough to protect the herd. Your herd relies on you Rodney and you are doing a great job in spite of your fear, in spite of having to work with those you fear. You have achieved intellectual feats that rival the greatest minds of the federation and all that while struggling with a traumatic experience. Fear isn’t dumb and there is nothing wrong with you for feeling it.”
“Thank you” Rodney says “That means a lot, I won't be like forever I promise, I just need some time.”
“We will laugh about this someday,” I assured. “Nothing as big and intelligent as you should be afraid of anything”
“Are you calling me fat?” Rodney exclaimed with fake offense.
We both chuckled.
My kind words had resulted in a more upright posture, and a more cheerful demeanor from the human, almost like when I congratulated Nyan on his work, and it got me a look at that happy snarl of his, that I was starting to grow quite fond of.
After Action Report - Venlil Colonial Defense Force
Subject : Apprentice Engineer Nyan
Oh wow! I get to write a report for this mission! I never get to write reports, Donu says they're too boring, but there’s so many interesting things going on all the time. Sometimes I sneakily write my own! Just for fun of course, nobody sees them, which is probably for the best as I sometimes get excited and embellish them slightly. One of the reports I wrote was about the time Donu used nothing but a wad of electrical tape, a bottle of high grain venlil alcohol and a pocket knife to repair a venlil medical ship just in time to get out of the way of a big scary space predator, with glowing red eyes and a million tentacles!
Anyways Im not sure If im suppose to write these In present tense first person or past tense. I asked the captain and she said it's whatever so long as I make sure any pertinent dialogues are properly quoted(“”).
“Nobody usually reads these things anyways.” She said, but this one is surely going to be so exciting, who could look away!
I mean who's gonna scoff at a chance to read about friendly predators from another dimension! A dimension of friendly predators who give warm head scratches and hand out yummy strayu not strayu treats called donuts, that are somehow fluffier than strayu, and have a nice moisture to them. I asked for the recipe but Samantha said we wouldn't have the ingredients back on Venili prime to make them, and Teal'c said the recipe is an old family secret. Its weird predators would be so protective of their plant snacks.
There are so many weird things about these predators, they have nurturing instincts that make them find us cute. They stay perfectly balanced even if they don’t have tails, swinging their arms and body all over the place to keep upright like a lopsided gyroscope, it's pretty funny looking!
They also wear artificial pelts all the time, which I thought was weird, I thought maybe the ships temperature was set by the angry gray alien since he’s the only crew member beside the venlil who walks around naked all the time, maybe he had a fit when it was to warm, and the humans obliged him cause they were worried they would make him even angrier, and wore clothes to make up for the cold. I thought this made sense, a lot of their technology does seem to come from the Asguard, maybe he has more say in the goings on of the ship because of that. But apparently humans just like wearing pelts all the time. They feel uncomfortable without them and don’t like it if you try to remove them or look up their upper artificial pelts they call shirts.
The humans are so weird, I don’t even have to embellish my reports to make it more interesting. Like that time with the big tentacled space predator. That may sound real compared to this stuff but it Isn't, Ha! I bet you fell for it at first, hook line and sinker! Like the humans would say. I think I used that saying right, I'm not sure what it means, but Shepard brought it up when he was telling a story about the wraith.
The humans are so nice, instead of exterminating their predators they try to cure them! Their doctors are working to modify the wraith so they don't have to eat humans anymore, so they can be friendly predators too.
Anyways I should probably get to the actual report part of this report. Farva says I should start after I went off with Samantha to work on some special astrophysics equations she said I would be good at. I kind of wanted to go with Donu to help Rodney get the new parts they needed, or Farva to help rescue our people, but the humans and even the angry gray alien got really weird when Farva mentioned taking me on the mission. Samantha seemed to want me to help her really badly so I didn’t mind. Samantha says I have the most important part to our mission. She's teaching me about how humans communicate through subspace, and about stellar drift equations. We are working on what she calls the exit strategy.

Asthma waiver
Hello everyone. I am a veteran from another branch switching over the guard/ reserve in the army. I was diagnosed with asthma while on active duty and was returned do duty. Asthma was mild so they did not discharge me for it. I separated a year ago but when i started the process it had only been a few months since my DOS but i still had to go back to meps. Meps saw all of the medical documentation from the military doc that diagnosed me and all the decision paperwork to keep me in the service but they DQ’d me, requested PFT. Cool. Did PFT, sent it, they DQ’d me again even though the doc administering my pft said my results were looking good? I am not on any daily medication, just a rescue inhaler (as needed). My recruiter wants to send up an appeal but he doesn’t have experience with asthma waivers. He told me to get another pft done. I want to make sure this gets done correctly since this seems to be my last chance. For context, i do not need to go back to basic at all so asthma won’t even be an issue for me. What do you guys recommend? Any recruiters on there that can offer advice or feedback? Thanks again!

Information

Reddit Account: u/theklicktator
Discord Tag: Klick
Name and House: Gregor Lannister
Age: 48
Cultural Group: Westerman
Appearance: Appearing older than his years would suggest, Gregor is a bald, bearded, beautiful old lion whose hair is starting to turn from gold to grey
Trait: Inspiring
Skill(s): Vanguard (e), Prudent, Outrider, Tactician
Talent(s): Cyvasse, Writing, Wargaming
Negative Trait(s): None
Starting Title(s): Knight of Casterly Rock
Starting Location: Opening Event
Alternate Characters: None

Timeline

22 BC: Gregor Lannister, second oldest child of King Loren Lannister, is born
11 BC: As befitting a secondborn son, Gregor is given a martial education to compliment his older brother's rulership. He squires for Lord Sarsfield until he is knighted seven years later.
3 BC: Gregor is given command of Westerlands troops and is able to throw back successive attacks from the Riverlands, the Ironborn, and eventually the Reach, preventing them all from developing into full wars.
1 BC: Gregor participates in the Field of Fire. Advising his father not to attack, he is ignored and soon finds himself surrounded by dragonfire. Braving the flames, he rescues his father, his older brother, and rallies the Westerlands army to escape the flames, leaving the Gardeners to their doom. He advises his father to surrender to Aegon Targaryen, and this time is successful in persuading him to do so.
15 AC: The Kingswood Catastrophe occurs, and Lord Paramount Lyman Lannister is killed in the chaos. As his son Lancel is just a small child, Gregor assumes the role of regent for the Westerlands.
17 AC: Lodos the Twice-Drowned rises up in rebellion on the Iron Islands. Orys Baratheon commands Gregor to end the rebellion and the Old Lion does so, and delivers the head of the mad prophet to Orys two years later.
20 AC: The regency for his nephew Lancel ends, and Gregor relinquishes control of the Westerlands.
21 AC: The first rifts form in House Lannsiter during the Golden Strawberry tourney and wedding feast.
23 AC: The rift deepens as Gregor has fruitlessly spent the last two years searching for the Songbird to Lancel's displeasure.
25 AC: Starting of the Opening Feast

Auxuliary Character

Name and House: Lancel Lannister
Age: 20
Cultural Group: Westerman
Appearance: A callow young man with the typical Lannsiter looks, Lancel's features are a touch too sharp to declare any real warmth, and his eyes speak of danger should you offend him
Trait: Ruthless
Skill(s): Polearms, Espionage, Riding
Talent(s):Painting, Drinking, Getting Under Your Skin
Negative Trait(s): None
Starting Title(s): Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport, Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, Warden of the West
Starting Location: Opening Event
Alternate Characters: None

Family Tree

Archetypes

Ser Jason Lannister - Warrior
Maester Abelard - Medic