Totally Unauthorized

A side of the film industry most people never see.

The end is nigh

We have two weeks left until this show wraps.

At this point, we’ve used our lighting budget and aren’t allowed to rent any more equipment, no matter what.

Which would be fine if we had, as originally promised, no swing sets*.

But big ideas happen in the writer’s room and things change, so we now have to light a new set each week. But – we can’t get any new stuff, so we have to steal from whatever permanent set isn’t working to complete the rig.

Which is also fine, except that this week’s swing set will also play next week, so we didn’t de-rig it.

We’re fine if the set we stripped doesn’t play, but no one knows yet.

In other news, the cat is still alive.

$300 in blood tests and the vet has determined that she’s old (no, really?), anaemic, and may have an ulcer.

So I have to grind up a quarter tablet of Pepcid AC and put it in her food, and give her high-iron paste and it seems to be working.

She’s perkier and much more like her old self, which is awesome.

The downside is that iron paste is tenacious. Five minutes of exposure to sunlight and it hardens into something that I’m pretty sure would repel bullets, so of course the cat hates it and it’s a struggle to get it down her gullet.

The paste ends up all over the walls, the floor, her face, her fur, my hair, etc… I have a bit of eyebrow that’s shellacked now, and it’s just going to have to grow out.

I can’t mix it into the food as she’ll smell it eat around the bit of food that’s got the paste.

Ugh.

Any suggestions?  I’m covered in goop here.

 

*A swing set is any set that’s temporary – usually for one episode.

Filed under: studio lots, Work, , , , , , , ,

Work is not on my mind right now.

The cat is old.

Really, really, old, and recently she’s begun to act her age.

Most of what she does these days is sleep, and she very rarely ventures away from her perch on the bed. I think it’s been six months since she’s done anything other than walk to the food bowl and then walk back to the bed.

She doesn’t look out the window, she doesn’t come and sit with me if I’m watching  TV, she doesn’t come yell at me to hurry up and get out of the shower.

She’s not even showing interest in her beloved Cat Track.

Her muscles are atrophying because of the inactivity, making it harder for her to move around.

She just sleeps. She doesn’t even wash her face these days – I’ve been having to scrub the food crust off of her nose for her.

I know the end is coming, but right now what I’m really struggling with is when.

I’m not going to let her slide and slide and become really miserable before dying naturally.

I’ve done that because I was too much of a coward to go to the vet. The suffering that animal had to endure because of my lack of action is something that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

But it’s not that simple.

If I do it too soon, she loses time (or maybe it doesn’t matter to her and I’m the one losing the time. Who knows).

If I do it too late, she’ll suffer.

Where’s the line?

I’ve had her for so long that I can’t imagine life without her, so I wonder if that clouds my judgement.

The vet is spectacularly unhelpful, just saying “You know your pet”.

Fucking duh. Of course I know my pet. That’s why this is so hard.

It would be super easy with someone else’s pet.

“Dude, that dog’s, like, jacked. You should put it to sleep”.

See? Easy.

So now I’m watching, and waiting, and wondering if I’m doing the right thing or just torturing the sweet soul that’s loved me unconditionally for almost two decades.

I wish there was an easy answer.

Someone please give me an easy answer.

 

Filed under: Non-Work, , , ,

Some unpleasant surprises

All studio lots have stray cat populations which are tolerated as cats are generally preferable to the rats that flourish with the aid of Los Angeles’ mild climate and discarded remnants of second meals*.

The studios have kitty population control programs, but since it’s just not possible to catch and sterilize them all, there are always at least 20 cats (give or take a litter or three) on each lot.

Normally, this isn’t a problem except when one of said kitties decides that a corner of our set is a dandy place to heed the call of nature. The big stage doors can be locked, of course, but it’s just not possible to seal off every entrance available to a six pound cat.

The nice thing about yesterday’s set was that all the wall outlets were wired. Many times on sets although there are electrical outlets built into the set walls (for realism), they aren’t connected to anything so they can’t be used, which is a pain in a set that, say, only has one entrance which is on camera and we have to try to cable over the wall when there are 30 people standing in the way. This, needless to say, is frustrating, so we’re always glad when we can plug a lamp into a working wall outlet.

The bad thing about yesterday’s set was that the wall outlets were wired, so as I was bending over to plug a lamp into an outlet (which, of course, was installed near the floor), my face came dangerously close to what I can only assume was recycled rat with a side of kibble. Of course, since all the important people were on set I couldn’t give into my initial urge, which was to jump backwards and scream “eeeeeeewwwww!”

Since I live with a cat and dump a litterbox on a weekly basis, you’d think I’d be used to the sight of cat shit, but seeing it in a corner of a set was, well, surprising – as was the puddle of urine I found on the upper floor of the set.

Damn cats.

I suppose I should have told one of the set dressers, but we got busy and I forgot.

They’ll find it soon enough.

*film crews must be fed every six hours. First meal (lunch, no matter what time of day) comes six hours after call, second meal comes six hours after the end of lunch. All of us pray we never see third meal, but we sometimes do.

Filed under: Work, , , , , , , ,

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