Kittens Went Back. Barn Homes for Four

The Millersburg kittens went back to the trailer. The woman had another inside lactating female she felt would nurse them. Just as well. Jumping Jen really had no milk.

She was angry, however, when I removed them and expressed her anger by swatting, claws out, at my hand, when I was petting her this evening, as I have every day. I've been hand feeding her, in fact. She liked that. But tonight Jumping Jen was hopping mad, because I stole away her foster kittens. She laid open the side of my left index finger.

It's 2:00 a.m. and I finally got all the chores done. After returning the Millersburg kittens, I went to Corvallis, to get cat food and groceries. By then, it was after 9:00 p.m. I didn't get home until about 11:00 p.m.. Then I had to clean all the litterboxes, including of all the boys out in the garage and the two in my bathroom---Jumping Jen and Sweet Pea. And feed everybody and medicate those needing medication. Not enough hours in the day.

I am still cursing the Clover Ridge situation and the people involved in causing those cats suffering and then me suffering, too.

I determined that at least once a month, I will walk through that development in filthy clothes, gurgling and coughing and spitting on the sidewalk and acting like a retarded crazy homeless person, just for kicks. I'll ask everyone I see, "Have you seen my kitty?"

If I do it enough, if lots of people did the same thing, hundreds or thousands of people did this, maybe these stupid developments of pastel all look the same particle board houses thrown up in a week, where what you do is controlled by a neighborhood association, a.k.a. THE GESTAPO, maybe these pimples on our community would stop sprouting.

I have homes now for four of the seven Clover Ridge cats still here. Smolder and Jumping Jen are going to an Albany barn home Saturday morning. Also on Saturday, Jack and Hoffa, the Siamese, are heading to Veneta.

That leaves the lovely Twister and Frap, one of the black and whites, and little tame Sweet Pea. What I have to do tomorrow, is build two containment cages. It's hard to get all this stuff done alone. Harder than hell, actually. But I do it. I wish I could figure a way to go on even like a five day vacation somewhere away from the telephone and away from Albany and away from all my cares. A nice vacation. Yeah right. I'll just write a check to cover the expenses. Hahahaha.

I don't really get out of this valley. I've never been to Bend or points beyond. Never been to Eastern Oregon, or North Eastern Oregon, never been much of anywhere I guess. Except I lived in Alaska a few years when I was young. That's about the extent of my travel.

The lonliness is killer. Sometimes I feel like I'm just waiting on Mr. Death. I suppose we all are in a way. Mr. Death is breathing down my neck lately. I can feel the hot breath. I try to keep a step ahead but I can feel Mr. Death closing the gap. So I keep running and grabbing cats as I run, getting them fixed, and tossing them back out there with a wave and a "good luck" and then I sprint a ways, because he's gaining on me again. Mr. Death. Hahahaha.

I beat you today, didn't I, and maybe you'll hover over me tonight, but watch out for these cats of mine. They have claws and they don't like black shadows stalking. When you catch me, I'll put up one fight, I will, and I'll do my damndest to take you down with me, I will, I will.

People are dying over there in Iraq by the score. I can feel it here. I can feel the mothers shaking inside. The mothers of America. The families wanting their dear soldier's end to have stood for something. To take the edge off their sorrow. Their never ending sorrow.

These people blowing up those people. Those people's grief stricken families blowing up these people. It will never never never end. Unless, unless we all forgive everything. Let everything go. Lay down all our sorrows and hatreds and angers and revenges, and hug a purring kitty.

Take away the guns and put purring kitties in your holsters, boys.

They won't shoot straight for you, but boy can they make a lonely night warm.