Day 70 arrived early, literally. I was up and out the door to take Whiskey to the vet for her vaccinations, both of us still a little groggy and unsure why mornings exist at all. While we were there, I asked the vet about her new favorite hobby: biting everyone she meets like she’s auditioning for a tiny vampire role. His advice was simple and practical. Get a crate. When she bites, put her in it. She’ll learn.
I nodded politely, but inside I knew I couldn’t do it. I just can’t bring myself to punish the poor little thing for doing what comes naturally to her. She’s a kitten. She explores the world with teeth and paws. Locking her up feels less like training and more like teaching fear, and I’ve had enough of that in my own life to know it doesn’t work the way people think it does.
Back at home, Mom and I found ourselves in heavier emotional territory. We’ve been following the Rob Reiner murder case, and some of the details hit far too close to home. The tough love. The drug abuse. The family dynamics that spiral instead of heal. It stirred up a lot of old feelings for both of us, the kind that sit in your chest and refuse to be ignored. We all know watching too much news is bad for the soul, but knowing that and doing something about it are two very different things. We watched anyway.
Through all of this, the cravings have been strange today. Not strong, not overwhelming, but persistent. Like a low hum in the background that never quite shuts off. I don’t know which is worse, having intense cravings that eventually burn out, or having mild ones that just linger, reminding you they’re waiting patiently for a weak moment. Maybe the real work is learning to live alongside them without letting them take the wheel.
So I did what I’ve learned to do. I packed up my art supplies and headed to the coffeehouse. I played with the cat. I distracted myself from smoking in every healthy way I could find. Art, movement, companionship. These are tools now, real ones, not just ideas. Ninety days in, I can honestly say I’ve learned things I didn’t know before. About myself. About patience. About gentler ways to change behavior, whether it’s a kitten’s biting or my own long-standing habits.
Day 70 isn’t a finish line. It’s proof that learning new tools matters, and that punishment, whether aimed at a cat or at myself, was never the answer. I’m still here. I’m still learning. And today, that feels like enough.
by Dan and Bonkers
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