I’m having one of those weeks where it feels like I keep missing something terribly important, but nobody will tell me what it IS.
I’m convinced there’s a doorway to somewhere amazing around a corner I didn’t turn, and I don’t know if that’s optimism or pessimism.
Roly-poly, pell-mell, tumble-bumble, I will keep wandering around until I find whatever it is I’m looking for. I’m resilient like that.
In good news updates:
My Mom had surgery on her foot, and it went swimmingly. Well, not really, because she’s not allowed to get it wet for a couple weeks, but it went better than the surgeon had hoped.
Burke, our tiny sick cat, is responding well to the steroid treatments for her autoimmune disease. She’s putting on weight, the colour has come back to her ears and gums, and she’s gone from docile and mouthy to mouthy and looking at us in a way that clearly implies she’ll be having NONE of this crap from us, thank you. It’s good to see her bouncing back, after hearing the worst from a vet and having that turn out not to be true. Thank you to everyone who spared a kind word or thought for her.
And tomorrow, I have a lung scan, which should confirm that all the clots are gone, leading up to me getting OFF this vile medication I’ve been taking. (Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful it exists, and thrilled it seemed to work for me. But MAN the side effects suck.)
So what’s good in your world? Share the joy!
If you follow either of us on twitter (@reesah and @marigotc, respectively), you’ve probably seen us mention a health crisis one of our cats is having. In November of 2011, we
stole rescued a litter of feral kittens from our backyard, sweetened them up, and got them adopted out to various friends and family members. Except for two, Widget and Burke, who stayed with us. Because we’re huge suckers.
Miss BurkeBurke Kittenpants, wild and free. Seriously, could you say no to that face?
Miss Burke, at only a year and a half old, has been losing weight, and as she is one of our permakittens(tm), she didn’t have it to lose. We’ve been round and round, through a dozen tests, a blood transfusion, riding the cancer/not cancer roller coaster. It’s exhausting, and as awful as it seems to us, I can only imagine how it must be for her.
We’ve been working slowly on our current projects- In Discretion, a Ylendrian Empire story about secrets and the people who keep them, and Inside Job, a sequel (of indeterminate length) to The Slipstream Con. Wordcount isn’t where we want it to be, but we’re still making progress. Which reminds me, I should go make progress.
If you wanted to send a good thought or two towards the improved health of Miss BurkeBurke, it would be appreciated.
We have six feral rescue cats at our house. Malcolm and Zoe were born under a dumpster behind a Home Depot in DC. Quinn was born in a colony in Northern Neck, Virginia and rescued from certain death. Burke, Widget and Loki are all home-grown ferals, right from our own backyard. And speaking of home-grown ferals, we have four in our colony… LB, Blackheart, Mr. Wednesday and Ghost.
All this talk of feral kitties brings me to my charity of the month. Alley Cat Allies is one of the biggest sponsors of TNR (trap, neuter, return) when it comes to feral cat colonies. They offer training and support to people with feral populations, and lobby for protection of cats. Good cause, good people.
If you haven’t spent much time around children’s books recently, you might not be familiar with “No David” by David Shannon. While this post isn’t exactly about the book, I sure don’t mind putting a plug in for it. Especially since it was based on something he wrote when he was five years old! Writing prodigies… gotta support ’em.
Anyway, life with Loki Kittenpants is a constant No David situation. No Loki, don’t climb the curtains. No Loki, don’t bite the handicapped kitty’s tail. No Loki, don’t chew the electrical cords. No Loki, don’t eat that nasty bug!
Try writing when you have about fifteen to thirty seconds between No Loki episodes. It’s not conducive to productivity. But then, just like David’s mom, I look at his sad little face after I’ve fussed at him and I have to stop and hug him and scritch his teeny tiny soft ears, sigh and say “Yes Loki, I love you.”
Loki in lockdown. We do not eat our siblings!