Damn Pussies...

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My chair and heart are so empty today. The house is so quiet and my eyes keep leaking sad water.

Sleep well, my shiny boy, until we can play string and red dot together again.

Mama loves and misses you. :heart:

Oh Gracie, I am sorry :-(
 
I've talked about Daisy Mae (probably to the point of nausea) over in "Going to the Dogs."

What I haven't mentioned (much) is the cats. Primarily because I still hold firmly to my assertions that Love was "The Crazy Cat Lady" and I was just an innocent bystander. Mostly.

No matter what pictures might seem to indicate.

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Nope. Nope. Nope. I take the blame for Dogzilla. All credit for the destructo-cats go to her.

***sigh***

Or did.

My neighbors in the front half were arrested about a month ago. I'd frankly forgotten all about them "rescuing" a kitten that followed him home one day. And if I had remembered, I had my own problems tending my own clowder.

Actually, I am... or was... down to just two cats and a dog. Coke, the third, died back in late August or early September.

Until, that is, Willard (my neighbor from across the way) came banging on my air conditioner and told me that someone had broken into the front half. And I overheard his grandson, Z, telling him that he'd put out some food and water for the kitten while he was looking around to see if anything was missing.

Before locking the door.

I tried to set the kitten out of my mind. And mostly managed for about three days. Until I just couldn't ignore the loud mewls coming from the other side of my wall in my front room.

I fired off an email to my apartment manager telling them that the neighbors in the front half had been arrested a couple of weeks earlier and someone had broken in through a window before the weekend. And I thought they might want to know so that they could send someone out to take care of it before there was weather damage to the interior.

Oh, and incidentally, there seemed to be a cat in there without food and water, or anyone to tend to it. And I could hear it meowing all through my place.

I'm still kicking myself for not stopping there. But, oh no. I just had to shoot off at the mouth.

"I could probably bring it over and take care of it with mine until they get out."

***sigh***

Magic (the one cat I actually take the blame for) was twenty-three when he died (two months before my wife, kicking off "The Year from Hell"). Coke was fourteen when she died. Skeezix is nineteen, and Smoke (Coke's brother) is fourteen. Hell, Daisy Mae is nine and a half. It's been a long damn time since I had to worry about having my toes attacked through the covers because I was unwise enough to move them in my sleep.

I'm trying not to get too attached... um, I mean let him get too attached to me. After all, he's their cat. I'm just kitten sittin'. Not even giving him a name (since I don't know what, if anything, they might have).

But, I'm leaning firmly towards "Puck." 'Cause if he can't find shit to get into, he'll stir some up.

***sigh***

For someone who fondly imagines myself a Dominant, I am certainly pussy whipped.

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My chair and heart are so empty today. The house is so quiet and my eyes keep leaking sad water.

Sleep well, my shiny boy, until we can play string and red dot together again.

Mama loves and misses you. :heart:

Oh, gracie. :heart:
 
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