Another Day

And no cats that need to be put to sleep.

I probably didn't make it clear, but I was visiting a friend for awhile when all this came about. Yesterday I drove home, with Jake and George riding in their carriers in the back seat. Gracie used to ride in her carrier in the front passenger seat; I would sometime spoke a finger through the door and scratch her head. The first part of the drive, with the empty seat next to me, made it all fresh, but it passed. At home I had a small set of steps so she could get onto the couch (Gracie had arthritis) as well as the cat condo that was one of her favorite places, those immediately went into the dumpster out back.

Other stuff blew up yesterday in a friend's sibling's life, so that, sad as it may be to say, has been a bit of a distraction. Last night, being the first night home since Gracie died, I took a sleeping pill to make sure that the yakkity part of my brain shut the hell up for the night. So I got a decent night's sleep.

Each day is a little better. Maybe not by much, but better.

I gather that Frothy screwed the pooch in the latest showup of the passengers who have been riding in the GOP Presidential Clown Car. Someone else is surely blogging effectively about that.

I suppose I also should comment about the inherent stupidity of Republicans who have been screaming for months that Forceful Measures Must Be Taken against Iran and now, that tensions are ratcheting up, those very same Republicans are whining about the rise in gas prices, as in just what the frak did they think would happen to the price of oil when there is a prospect of yet another war in the Persian Gulf. Somebody's probably written a good piece on that, as well.

Anyway, what I wanted to let you know is that the Saturday Caturday will be suspended for awhile. Maybe a week, maybe longer. Gracie, with her big green eyes, was a dream to photograph and so, to a lesser degree, was Rocky. They were half-siblings, of litters roughly 16 months apart. Their mother was a feral cat who was a very pretty cat in her own right. (You might remember Gracie's feral sister, Sweetie.)

The survivors in our households are not as photogenic.

These are the last decent photos I have of each of them. This photo of Gracie was taken the day before she passed.

The cancer was on the other side of her jaw. But in looking at this photo, it seems to me that her mouth was open, just a tad. It had to have been at least discomforting, if not painful for her. But she was her usual loving self, right up to the time that I put her in her carrier for the last time.

I took this photo of Rocky the morning of his passing. He was lying under my bed. I had to use a high ASA and the exposure time was over a second.

It doesn't hurt today to look at the photos and write these words, not like it would have even yesterday. Things are getting better. But the usual political crap does not seem as important to me, not now. I don't have the reserves of emotion to be outraged at those assholes in Federal and state government and the putzim who are running so hard to be the leader of a government they all pretend to loathe.

Finally, I want to express my gratitude to you, Gentle Reader. I received a lot of supportive and gracious comments about the passing of Gracie and Rocky. They were of comfort. Thank you so very much.