These things come in 3's

This morning we lost our oldest cat, age 12, Firedancer. He was born in our home to Marmalade and Bear. A friend sent these wonderful pictures tonight. Note, his ears weren't open yet. And yes, he was the color of a Crayola Crayon.

Firedancer with Lugh

Firedancer with Lugh and Lucy

Firedancer with Lugh

Heartbroken

Phaedra took a turn for the worst and died about 8:30 this morning in my arms. There are no words.

And to make it even worse, we have sadly made the decision to send Tully across the Rainbow Bridge tomorrow. She most likely has FIP and has passed from the dry type to the wet. She is beginning to suffer and it is time to let go.

I grieve.

And she is eating!

Phaedra is about 8 weeks old. She wasn't interested in food earlier today so the vet gave her a supplement. Her eyes are very irritated, so after washing them, she still can barely see. Neverthless, we just washed her face, I offered her kitten formula. Five syringes later, she is full and has fallen asleep. Looks like she is going to be fine.

On a sadder note, I have a furchild with FIP. I strongly suspect she will be crossing the rainbow bridge soon. Tully is only two, so it is heart breaking.

I am a humble servant of the Lady Bastet

Phaedra is the newest member of the household. She threw our home into quite the tizzy this morning. But let me start at the beginning...

I meant to drop some money off to a friend last night night. I have been making payments on my Honda for years. Things have improved lately, and I wanted to make an extra payment. So I took the payment to my friend's home this morning on the way to work. A FedEx truck was blocking the road a couple of houses before my friend's home. It took a minute for my tired brain to register the site of a tiny kitten in the road. I watched as the driver got out and moved her to the side of the road. We have over 20 rescues and don't need another. Sigh. I resolved to check on her in five minutes when I left  the neighborhood.

I dropped off the envelope and turned the car around. The result is obvious. Two neighbors from two different houses had appeared and were staring at the alien ball of fur. I debated. They were not approaching it....let alone picking it up.

So I stopped. "We don't know what to do with it."

I responded with take it to a vet. Blank stares. I tried again. "Tractor supply has cheap antibiotics. The eyes need Neosporin." They stare at me like I have three heads. Deep sigh. "I'll take her". My partner's gonna kill me. We agreed. No more cats.

I scooped her up. She was fine till we got to the car. Then I got the first bite. I didn't let go. I got her in a box with two more bites. I folded the lid. Took her home. Woke Cameron. "I've been very naughty....her name is Phaedra."

Blowing off the dust

It's been the better part of three years....a long three years of Trumpian dystopia. Never thought sci-fi would become real  life. After the election, I wrote daily then just a few times a week, then none. It was too debilitating to keep up the writing. News happened too fast and became too outrageous. I began watching MSNBC every night, aghast at what has befallen my country.

The first three months after the election I found myself randomly crying. I drank almost daily. Then my doctor had a talk with me about blood sugar and cholesterol and I stopped. Sober was harder, but so be it.

So for three years I have read. Watched. Worked in my therapy room to help clients who likewise struggled with the crazy around us. We still shake our heads, wonder if one day those of us that are gay, trans, Hispanic might find ourselves rounded up.

Tonight I deleted 60 blog posts written after the election. I felt so bitter, so  shocked, so angry that those posts were the way I found to survive the crazy. Today I feel less desperate, but just as certain of disaster. All of the damage done cannot be healed  in my lifetime. Nevertheless, I have put one foot in front of the other and will continue to do.

So I am going back to writing, now and again, about all things in my heart. I am not going to research and write the kind of posts I did before the election, but I  will  return to thoughts, struggles, and insights. I miss writing. Indeed, I resent the political climate that so overwhelmed me that it silenced my voice.