That didn’t do it.

Sorry, yesterday’s was supposed to be the last catblog post, but Fufu came back, despite the abuse we lavished on her in two vet visits, poor thing. She has to go back on Thursday, too, for a follow-up flu shot. She’s been sleeping for about eleven hours now, only getting up twice to throw up. Great. Something else wrong.

Amy: scars? Wow, I guess we’re lucky. Our cats go into the cat-basket without a peep. I don’t think they enjoy it much in there, but they don’t complain. Um, we leave it by the door for a few days before we try to put them in it. Our purpose is not to help them get used to the idea (actually, it’s so that I trip over it several times a day – otherwise, I’ll forget that we were supposed to take someone to the vet), but that may be an accidental side-effect.

Other news? Well, that’s probably why I keep writing about my cat and a half. Um, it’s cold. Damn cold. I knit, less than I want to. I drive my kids around. I miss my husband. I do laundry. Woot. I did talk to Ignatz’s German teacher yesterday. I thought that’d produce some blog-fodder, but it was the same as always: she’s very nice, understands that he has ADHD, likes him and tries to help as much as she can but she has 30 other kids to worry about (in his class – in all, it’s probably about 200). It’s always the same.

I did find this nifty toy, via Will Write for Wine. You’re welcome.

Song du jour of the day: Love is the Seventh Wave, by Sting. The last bit always makes me smile.

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