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Before last week, I was in the middle of working on two time-intensive chores that stress and depress me - the clearing of the basement (goal: to reduce cruft by 2/3 or 3/4, which means some hard decisions) and getting regular exercise (endorphin high, my flabby ass).
This last week has shown that I am also going to be spending daily time on a task that outright upsets me - searching for Mulder. At least on the other two, I have the dim comfort of knowing that there is an end. That doing something will have a definitive result. Cat searching is a complete crap shoot. Maybe he'll come back. Maybe we'll see him in a shelter. Maybe he's in someone's house. As M points out, flyers or not, vet calls or not, Mulder could conceivably spend the rest of a long life indoors or outdoors within two blocks of here and we would never know!
My mission, whether or not I've chosen to accept it, is to juggle all of these and keep some time and energy in reserve to make sure that I still can care for the remaining 4 cats and myself without going bonkers. I'm clinging to my little joys and indulgences like a Titanic survivor to a raft. So don't be surprised if there's a fair amount of what I was doing on Saturday... posting a pathos-drenched wail followed by something completely shallow. I need the mental break, every now and then, or something more permanent is going to break.
I'm just tellin' y'all.
In other feline news - this probably comes under the shallow side of things - Gytha is having a rough week of it too. She gives no indication of missing Mulder - we'd always assumed that if the Brain was parted from her Pinky she'd go bonkers, but she doesn't seem to care. It's one of the reasons why we took some time to realize that he'd gotten out.
Today was warm and bright enough that we decided to let all the cats out on the porch. Couldn't hurt if Mulder swung by and smelled 'em too, y'know? The older ones came calmly out and sat down or rolled. None wear collar or tags. None went further than the porch.
Gytha popped out of her 8-harness and headed down the driveway.
Heart stopping, I cut her off only to have her lollop even faster back beyond the porch heading for the back 40, just out of grabbing reach. I called her to get her to turn around and dragged her leash temptingly in the dirt. Fortunately, she couldn't resist the lure and pounced on it, to be pounced on in return.
And that is why Gytha, who was naked and unashamed on Monday, is now fully tricked out in microchip, leather breakaway collar with tag, *and* H-harness which she will be forced to wear 24/7 for a while. (She keeps trying to insist that she can't walk in the harness, only to gallop off when she wants to. Keeping it on her may piss her off, but it will get her used to it. Leash walking is next, like it or not.)
She was glaring as we snugged Kaylee's old harness down to fit her. I told her she had only herself and her brother to blame.
This last week has shown that I am also going to be spending daily time on a task that outright upsets me - searching for Mulder. At least on the other two, I have the dim comfort of knowing that there is an end. That doing something will have a definitive result. Cat searching is a complete crap shoot. Maybe he'll come back. Maybe we'll see him in a shelter. Maybe he's in someone's house. As M points out, flyers or not, vet calls or not, Mulder could conceivably spend the rest of a long life indoors or outdoors within two blocks of here and we would never know!
My mission, whether or not I've chosen to accept it, is to juggle all of these and keep some time and energy in reserve to make sure that I still can care for the remaining 4 cats and myself without going bonkers. I'm clinging to my little joys and indulgences like a Titanic survivor to a raft. So don't be surprised if there's a fair amount of what I was doing on Saturday... posting a pathos-drenched wail followed by something completely shallow. I need the mental break, every now and then, or something more permanent is going to break.
I'm just tellin' y'all.
In other feline news - this probably comes under the shallow side of things - Gytha is having a rough week of it too. She gives no indication of missing Mulder - we'd always assumed that if the Brain was parted from her Pinky she'd go bonkers, but she doesn't seem to care. It's one of the reasons why we took some time to realize that he'd gotten out.
Today was warm and bright enough that we decided to let all the cats out on the porch. Couldn't hurt if Mulder swung by and smelled 'em too, y'know? The older ones came calmly out and sat down or rolled. None wear collar or tags. None went further than the porch.
Gytha popped out of her 8-harness and headed down the driveway.
Heart stopping, I cut her off only to have her lollop even faster back beyond the porch heading for the back 40, just out of grabbing reach. I called her to get her to turn around and dragged her leash temptingly in the dirt. Fortunately, she couldn't resist the lure and pounced on it, to be pounced on in return.
And that is why Gytha, who was naked and unashamed on Monday, is now fully tricked out in microchip, leather breakaway collar with tag, *and* H-harness which she will be forced to wear 24/7 for a while. (She keeps trying to insist that she can't walk in the harness, only to gallop off when she wants to. Keeping it on her may piss her off, but it will get her used to it. Leash walking is next, like it or not.)
She was glaring as we snugged Kaylee's old harness down to fit her. I told her she had only herself and her brother to blame.
