Home Life

Oh, boy. I hope you know what I mean when I say that I have been trying real hard to be a normal person. And not the kind where you say "Well, nobody is normal...".  I mean I know that. I mean that isn't what I'm talking about.

I just keep finding myself in river valleys, howling like a dog and no better off than before I came. I am not sure I will ever learn to stop throwing these fits; it does not get better. Then again, there is already so much wrist-slapping. So much talk about when I am "better".

It has occurred to me, and keeps occurring to me, when I am crumpled on some new surface, that I am in many ways predisposed to fits of all sorts. This time-out that I have been given to punish bad behavior may not be effective in the end. Or then again it might me. It may be too soon to tell. It has been years, though, of putting me back here when things get difficult, and waiting for "progress".

I have been trying real hard. I hope you know what I mean when I say that.

The Vet

Today my cat didn't die, and neither did I and neither did you, so I am pretty happy overall I'd say.

Pictured is Tasha, a long-dead cat who exemplifies the Cutcher penchant for seal-points (which spans generations), who belonged to my grandfather, and who looks like Mercatroid, (who lives to meow another day).

The Cytokine Hypothesis

It's been a few months full of tiny holes slowly leaking air.