It's Christmas

It's almost Christmas. Another 45 minutes. What am I going to do tomorrow? Don't know. No plans. Chirp brought a cold outbreak into the house--thank you Chirp. I gave my only anti biotics to him and his brother, Elmo, so far unadopted.

Hopefully, the cats will get over it. I have four sneezing now. But it's probably viral anyhow, and will have to run its course. I am lacing their food with lysine.

I got a full blown feral adult in my spare bedroom. He escaped my wire cage and next thing you know, he's gotten up on the high closet shelf, with accompanying racket and destruction.

He's from a vacant rental house a block from where I live. I'm reluctant to return him, even though the apartment complex people feed the strays well. That's because the prop management company is going to seal off under the house again, like they did a few weeks ago. Only that time, they did so with cats under there.

They were able to break out, but they might not be so lucky next time. I trapped two of about six, actually, but this brown tabbvy tux's mom had metastisized bladdar cancer, and the vet put her down, and I buried her. So I have only him, and no options of barn homes, and I don't know what to do with him.

Since he was scrambling up the closet door and jumping down, I finally gave in and put a laddar in there for him. I'd house him for now in the garage room, but the door won't close anymore, due to shifting in the garage floor and walls.

I'll walk over there tomorrow, to see if they've sealed up under the house again. If so, I'll let him go. If not, well I don't know. The rest of them will have to be trapped, too, at some point, to avoid a population explosion.

I can't tell you how many cats I've trapped within a few block radius of here, since I moved. A lot. Over fifty. That's kind of pathetic. And there are more.