The last time we saw Candy, our calico cat who came to us 9 years ago, was when she went on walk-about on September 1.
This is the last photo I took of her, napping with her boy Taffy in their favorite place for nappage (the leather love seat in the den):
Last Friday, on November 18, Candy showed up on our back doorstep. She’s much thinner, very dirty, and very wary of us and the house. So far, in 7 days, she has not left the kitchen — her favorite spot is by the dining room door, from where she can keep the entire room and its hallyway entrance in sight:
It took me four days to get her to use this little towel, instead of curling up on the cold hard floor.
Baby steps. We’ll get her back, in baby steps.
I’m making my way back in baby steps. Very angry, very vengeful, very disgusted baby steps. I don’t have many positive thoughts to share lately, which is why I am keeping to myself these days. I am still pretty damn pissed off. And it just gets worse — how did I miss the news that Mike Pence was such a self-righteous pious-mouthed slime-ball ass-hatful-shit-stain?
Tea. I need tea:
That’s Taffy, posing with my big box 0’P G Tips tea (“240 lovely cups of tea”) and the quart-sized jar of honey we get from a local beekeeper who delivers that stuff to our door.
My best advise to you all, WonderOnes, is to treat yourselves to a good cup of tea as needed.
Taffy also advises, it’s better when you can share it with a friend: