It's been quite a while since I've written one of these up. At the same time, I feel both shocked and vindicated. I keep *thinking* about writing more -- particularly when some thought or whatever gets me going and runs off into several tangents -- but always seem to find something I'm supposed to be doing instead. Which is strange, actually, because running daily quests on WoW has pretty much gone by the wayside; there's no way I can do outdoor chores with all this damn snow, around; and, any bit of standing around, inside the house, is sure to get me going horizontal in the waterbed, in short order. So... what was I supposed to do? Not one friggin' clue.

There's a few things that have happened around me that I should share, only because my family here at PF *IS* family. So, here it is. In the last few months (probably more like weeks, really), I've gone from bitter to lonely to involved (in a relationship) to owning a pile of pets, again, to watching my doom arrive like a rocket sled on rails. What doom? STILL fighting with Social Security, I am, and still fighting a losing battle. I wish to hell I could just go out and get a fucking job, instead - like FUCK the pain, you know? But the narcotics I'm on don't mix well with driving, concentration or even wakefulness. I loathe being broke, I detest having to rely on others for my food, shelter and clothing. Yet, well medicated so the depression is easily offset by my new girlfriend and the three new kitties, in the house. Skipping right past the SSI shit, now...

Many, many years ago -- back when I was like 17, or so -- I met this chick through an acquaintance. Good looking blonde with a really sweet 1970 Monte Carlo. Fate had a way different plan than I did. She hooked up with a couple of my friends, consecutively, over the years. Only "sorta kinda" staying in touch. A roller coaster of drama, backstabbing, crushed dreams - the typical high school mentality, yet dragged out over a decade and more, POST high school. Now, some 30 years later, we get the chance to sit down and talk about what all had happened over our lives. Share our dissatisfaction with relationships, in the interim, and the loss of close family members. We start patching up our friendship and she needs a place to live, and we just happen to have a spare bedroom, out here. She doesn't sleep in the spare bedroom. Thankfully.

KITTENS! Okay, so Staci is really into dogs. She's a 'dog person', through and through. I'm a cat person, if people need to pin me down like that, but I am keen on all sorts of animals. My past has seen a chinchilla, numerous snakes, dozens and dozens of fish, dogs and cats, all living in my home. My interest lies with more exotic species but I just don't have the capabilities that I once had so... a bit more mainstream, it is. We'd been watching craigslist and that for a small female dog - like Bichons, Yorkies or whatever, and kept seeing "rehoming fees" upwards of $300.

That, to me, is moderately insane. Particularly for non-show dogs, that have been *fixed*. I expect show dogs (meaning a breed with "papers", not one that is winning ribbons) to run a minimum of 2 or 3 times that much, to start. But a pet? It's a dog. Why's it cost so much to "re-home"? Wait! Kittens with a rehoming fee of 10 bucks!? I'll swoop on that! Wait to adopt a puppy until "puppy season", and get some kitties, instead! Woot! They have 4 adorable kittens, I call and one of them is already adopted. Not 90 minutes after the ad was posted. Damn. "I'll take ALL three!"

Oh. My. God. I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition! "What do you want them for?" I'm asked. Apparently, there's a heap of people that adopt kitties and puppies, in bulk, to feed to their reptiles. Hmm. I don't want to linger on that thought. People may start getting hurt. Well, I assured the girls, and their mom, that I was not looking for snake food. There's three people in the house, and all three are keen on a new kitty. Fine. Cool. Whatever. Come get 'em.

But there's a story. The momma kitty is an outdoor cat. In fact, the folks there don't ALLOW cats in the house. So, she had the litter out in a shed and promptly abandoned the litter. A litter of five. Which the kids find and immediately call for help. The stepdad approves of moving momma and the kittens into the house but one is already deceased and the other four are nearly frozen stiff. Like solid, or so I am told. They start bottle-feeding the kittens, waiting for the momma cat to return, which she does after a few days (and, amazingly, started caring for the brood). Touch-and-go for about 3 weeks. The first 4 weeks of their life are a fight to survive. Two weeks later, the ad is put up, 6 week old kittens - need a home. They get one, here. One female and two males.

And what a show they put on! I so wish I still had a video camera around. Forget the "nom nom" kitty we used to have, these little buggers are amazing, if slightly behind schedule on their growth. At 10 weeks, today, they've shown their own distinct personalities. They've been given the names, Tonka (a slight homage to the word ta tonka, that plays well into the classic "tonka tough" ads for Tonka trucks -- when they were still made of metal), Freya and Romeo. Guess who the loverboy of the bunch is. The uber-brave one that has no problem taking on BOTH his siblings. At once. And the little princess, that has stalking her brothers down to a science, has clearly adopted me, as her person.

Sometimes, it's the real small that have the biggest impact. Now, if I could only get them to stop eating my toes, while I'm asleep.