Oh, That Thing

Well, I figured out my downswing and complete fatigue yesterday, when I developed the bumps and sensitive spots in and around my mouth that signal fever blisters and canker sores, all at the same time. Now, it's not very pleasant to discuss, but I am determined to be frank with you. And if I am helping anyone with this blog, I want to be factual. Even if it's a bit uncalled for at this hour of the morning.
It explains the chills, the fatigue, the stomach twists, and the emotional upheaval. I woke up with the thought, "Oh, it's that thing!"

Now for the important news. I am considering fostering kittens sometime in the near future. I may end up not going through with it, of course, but it is Spring, and that means tons of unwanted kittens and puppies at the local pound and shelters. If I feel that I just can't foster, then I will substitute my time with donations of litter and scoops, and towels and blankets, and paper towels, etc...all the things that small bunches of very tiny kittens need, to be comfortable.

I don't deny that I am a cat person, who had a dog donated to her, long ago. He was trained as a service animal. That was the love of my life, Eddie. But still, I remain a cat person. Besides the fact that they are as cute as 'all get out' I love the way they take to a litter box from the very beginning. Dogs must be housebroken, or trained to 'go' outside, but cats? No, no. It's just natural. How adorable is that?

The fact that they can squeeze into the space between the ceiling tiles and the floorboards of the next story to the point where they can't be gotten out, is purely apocryphal in nature...they can squeeze into many spaces that are smaller than their volume, and hold a special fascination for physicists that way, or so I am told. And how cute that, when they discover they cannot get out, they meow helplessly, for hours, ever increasing in volume the closer one's hand gets.

They show their finest at that hour. No amount of food and water can tempt them. They are suddenly on a diet. It is an exercise in futility, and the result is skinned and bloodied hands, and a blood pressure reading that would land one in the hospital. The resultant relief of 'getting them out,' is tempered by their climbing the tallest tree in the neighborhood the next time they are let out. Usually that day. Nay, even that hour they are freed. And there they sit, once more on a diet.

Having a kitten, or multiples thereof, in the house is much the same, only they can squeeze into even tighter spaces. Any cat aficionado knows that their cries are louder in proportion, the smaller they get. Their teeth are also infinitely sharper, needle-like, in fact. I admire also, that kittens have no fear of anything on the earth, except being plainly in the open, where I can see them, and an overwhelming curiosity to boot. That is, the smaller the kitten, the more they turn into what I like to call, "Danger Dan."
And I purely love the impulse that makes their day start at 2 am, and end at never, o'clock. Until that time it is, to go to bed, which is only when you are not there. They are small springs, covered with fur and entirely run by air-power.

I am hoping the day is spring like enough for me to want to wander out. I have to go out this morning, and all that's lacking is the will to do so. There is that.

Until tomorrow.