To continue the Christmas adventure of our little furry friend, we told the vet that Whiskey Kitty bites a lot. His solution caught me off guard. He suggested putting her in a crate so she’d be confined and “rely on me.” That didn’t sit right. It felt a little mean, and honestly, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Instead, we struck a loose truce. Whiskey has free reign of the upstairs at night before I go to sleep, and during the day she’s closely supervised in various rooms downstairs. So far, so good. Or so I thought.
Then she went rogue.
First, she disappeared behind the TV and started investigating the tangled jungle of wires back there. Next, she discovered the drapes. Before anyone could intervene, she was halfway up them, swinging around like Tarzan, leaving behind tiny tears as souvenirs of her expedition. That was the moment Mom officially hit her limit.
Enter: the playpen.
We ordered a small one from Amazon and set it up today, fully expecting protest, drama, and possibly a hunger strike. Instead, Whiskey calmly stepped inside, looked around, and started playing with her toys like she’d been waiting for this her whole life. No crying. No panic. No existential despair. Just a few scratch marks on the patterned plastic windows and a very content kitten.
If there’s one thing you can say about Whiskey Kitty, it’s this: she is not claustrophobic.
As for me, I only had one craving today. It hit while I was walking to the store to buy tea. I passed someone smoking, which feels rarer and rarer these days. That helped. Seeing it instead of smelling it everywhere feels like a small mercy.
So today brought a box for Whiskey, a little peace in the household, and another smoke-free day for me.
I got this.
by Dan and Bonkers
SUPPORT MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS NOW!!!
af3nrs