This morning began with a familiar routine and a small dose of adventure. Whiskey Kitty crawled into my bed, soft and warm, her way of saying good morning without words. I carried her downstairs where Mom and I gave her post-surgery medicine. She handled it like a little warrior, patient and trusting with a smaller bit of resistence.
But the real action came afterward.
When I brought her back upstairs and opened the door to feed her, she slipped past me like a furry bar of soap. Down the stairs she flew, across the dining room, and straight behind the laundry machine. My heart did a full sprint right along with her. That room sits too close to the outside door, and the thought of her slipping out into the wild world was enough to make my stomach drop.
She’s quick. Quick like a whisper. Quick like trouble.
And she’s still so small, still building her sense of home and attachment. Yes, she knows us. Yes, she trusts us. But she’s in that delicate stage where curiosity is stronger than loyalty. If she ever made it outside, there’s no guarantee she’d come running back. That’s why getting her microchip registered is now at the top of the list. It’s the safety net for a kitten with the heart of an explorer.
Meanwhile, back on the human front, the smoking battle continues.
I’ve had five cigarettes today. But something important is happening. I’m not enjoying them. I don’t finish them. The ritual is there, but the pleasure is gone. The spell is breaking.
The Chantix is doing its job, quietly rewiring the old habits. I’ve set another quit date for Monday. This time it feels less like a dramatic declaration and more like the natural next step. The cessation program will be calling to check in, ready to adjust the plan if needed. And the blogging continues, which has become its own kind of accountability, a public journal of a private war.
Every day, the distance between me and cigarettes gets a little wider.
Every day, the confidence grows.
Quitting isn’t one heroic leap. It’s a series of small victories. A cigarette left unfinished. A craving that passes. A quit date that feels believable.
Whiskey Kitty is learning where home is.
And so am I.
Once again… I got this. 🚭🐾
by Dan and Bonkers
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