Blergh.

It's really getting to me. The cats are a HUGE source of stress right now.

Sugarfoot is still having trouble adjusting to being an indoor cat, and I feel terrible every time she mewls at the door.

The kittens are good. They're doing what they need to be doing.

Shadow is not only being super-bitchy and aggressive by her standards, she's got what we are PRAYING is not a babybump under her belly. And our last vet trip with her lead to mutual misery and frustration, so we are ABSOLUTELY DREADING having her snipped, especially since we've realized we have to get it done REAL SOON and might already be too late.

And Shemp tried to follow us four blocks away from home today, way outside his usual range. And kept refusing to let us pick him up and guide him home. So we eventually just shrugged and said, "Listen, Shemp, if this is it and it's time for you to wander off..." And then I kinda broke down in tears and never finished the sentence.

We ended up carrying him home. He didn't fuss too badly. He's a good boy. I'm not ready to lose him, too.

And Artie and Peebs are just a big handful, though they were SUPER good girls yesterday when Sugarfoot needed some company and distraction.

Thank you again for your donations, advice, and support. I think I am all in with these cats, because my heart just won't give me any choice, and I really don't know what to fucking do. I was already at the end of my wits from COVID.

I guess it's healthy, though. I'm trying to look at this like a good Daoist Farmer and remind myself that the risk of suffering is huge but so is the risk of joy. I've already broken down blubbering twice singing to those freakin' newborns.

I think maybe here at what is hopefully the END of the Trump era and the near-end of the COVID-19 era, I needed something that was worth upping my game for. I am really really running on fumes right now but last month I didn't even think I had fumes.