Houston, we have purring

and climbing and mewing and snacking while growling and climbing up me and falling asleep on my shoulder. Tiny kittens the size of your fist inspire run on sentences. His eyes are losing their little blue color and turning to green. He has tiger stripes on his tummy and is too fast to photograph, though I'll try again later. His wee little back legs are too long for his body and he starts running and then tumbles ass over teakettle.

He so amazingly cute I am having fits. So are the other three kitties. They have taken up sentry duty outside the door because they KNOW they need whatever is in that room. But not until after the vet and a few days because he is so tiny. I haven't had a kitty this tiny since Hotspur. Newguise was about 8 weeks, Ninny was three months and Zach was almost six months when I brought him home.

He has also climbed the curtains and the nightstand covering as well as scaling me while I was sitting in the room reading. He is acting ferocious and has eaten the tails off three mice I have given him.

Hey, if you want philosophical discussion check out my other journal. :-)

in her comment section

I wrote this in Stacy's comment section after reading something very similar to my own writing a few years ago...and which is still, at times, a re-occurring theme:

I have to force myself to let go a bit more every day of the absolute horror I lived with. I have learned to appreciate, but not glorify my scars.

I force myself to realize, over and over again that it's my life and I continue to give it to them--some sort of misguided sacrifice to my own guilt and inadequacy over their wrongful actions.

And I force myself to realize, over and over again that I can take it back , that it's even more my right to keep what's mine than to sacrifice it to their ill will.

caught in action

Coffee, Tea or Me
No really, which do you want?
I'm scaling this mountain