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This morning started with a quiet little drama unfolding in the corner of my room. When I woke up, Whiskey Kitty was curled up there in a tight little ball, looking sad and loveless. Normally she’s right in the action. Either climbing into the bed, licking my ear, clawing my neck like a tiny feline chiropractor, or demanding breakfast like a four-pound alarm clock with fur. But not today. Last night she didn’t try to get in the bed. She didn’t wake me up. No ear licking. No pawing. No morning breakfast protest. Just a silent cat in the corner....

The last couple of nights have been a little different around here. Normally Whiskey Kitty wakes me up by gently licking my ear, which is strange enough as alarm clocks go. Lately, however, she has upgraded her routine. Now she kneads and claws into my neck while I’m sleeping like a tiny furry baker working a stubborn piece of dough. Naturally, I try to move her paws away, but Whiskey interprets that as a complete rejection of her existence. In cat language, apparently, please don’t stab my neck with your claws translates to get out of my life forever. So...

Today was one of those uneventful days that almost feels suspiciously calm. Nothing dramatic happened. No big breakthroughs. No disasters. Just a quiet, slightly boring day at home. My brother came over and we spent some time watching movies. Normally that kind of relaxed downtime would be pleasant, but boredom can be dangerous territory when you’re trying to quit smoking. When there’s nothing happening, the mind starts wandering, and that old thought creeps in: a cigarette would fix this moment. The urge showed up, but this time it didn’t win. I noticed it, let it hang around for a bit,...

Well, it’s another smoke-free day, and as usual I’m waking up to Whiskey Kitty. She’s not biting as much these days. Instead, she’s sleeping right by my cheek like some tiny furry guardian of the morning. Of course, being a cat, affection comes with a little danger. Just when I think we’re having a peaceful moment, she stretches out and claws me in the neck with those little paws the way cats do when they’re trying to make themselves comfortable. Apparently comfort for Whiskey sometimes involves light violence. Honestly, sometimes I don’t know if she loves me or hates me....

Today I got a call from California Kick It to check in on my progress. They call from time to time, like a lighthouse in the fog, just to see what’s working and what isn’t. They don’t bark orders. They don’t hand down commandments. They ask questions. They listen. Imagine that. It’s a little like having a sponsor from the 12 steps, except no one is trying to rearrange your personality or confiscate your free will. They tailor suggestions to the quitter, not the other way around. Revolutionary concept. I told them the truth. I’ve been cutting back. Only a...