The late post is entirely due to the dual issues of mom and the new kittens.

I’m sad to note we started with six, but are now down to three. Jack dubbed the surviving litter the Caramels. The three we lost were to pneumonia that first night we had them. I don’t know how we managed to save the remaining three, but we did. Maple, Cinnamon, and Sunspot are wriggly little balls of orange-brown fluff with an unrivaled appetite I’d expect in a bigger cat. They’re surviving with constant care, so that helps. On a side note, I’ve found I have an unfortunate talent for digging small holes very fast. I don’t ever want to use it again.

Mom is healing. Her pissy attitude about this isn’t helped by any sweetening spell I know, or Angie knows, and she’s driving us crazy. I think my sister has been seriously tempted to poison her dinner a couple of times. I’m awed by Angie’s ability to refrain from doing so. There’s a reason I’m not cooking for Mom this week.

Jack is my saving grace. All the little things that make me calm he’s provided with an effortless smile and encouragement. He’s also taken on the task of helping Mom with her exercises, which has given me time to step back and breathe. The kitten cuddle is his favorite part though. When it’s time to feed the littles, he’ll sit with them in his lap and pet them while I feed and clean one. He’s a great person and I’m eternally grateful he’s my son.

I’m tired. But this too shall pass.

Blessed be.


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