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This morning came early. Whiskey Kitty and I began the day with a mission: carrier, car, and courage. The vet had postponed her procedure before because of congestion that could interfere with anesthesia, but today she got the green light. Operation: Spay and Secure. She came home with two upgrades. One surgical, one technological. Along with the spay, they implanted a microchip so she can be tracked if she ever gets lost. I’m still not sure how I feel about my cat getting computerized, but if the choice is between privacy and coyotes, I’m voting for satellites. I worry about...

It’s Super Bowl Sunday, and the day began the way the best mornings do, with Whiskey Kitty delivering her usual pre-game ritual of love, purrs, and gentle reminders that I am, in fact, her human. Unfortunately, my own performance didn’t hold up for long. Before halftime even existed in my day, I was off to the smoke shop for another pack of cigarettes. And honestly, it felt awful. There’s no poetry in it, no romantic rebellion, no artistic mystique. Just the heavy feeling of being beaten by something small, expensive, and completely unnecessary. That’s when I had to say it...

This morning I woke up to the softest alarm clock in the world. Whiskey Kitty was resting against my cheek, delivering air kisses, purring like a tiny motor of devotion, licking my ear as if to say, Rise and serve your feline kingdom. She had plenty of food and water, but love, apparently, is a renewable resource and must be delivered hourly. Then Mom’s voice came up the stairwell like a human foghorn:“Don’t sleep in!” And just like that, the day officially began. Today was supposed to be another quit date. I lasted about fifteen minutes. Fifteen heroic, smoke-free minutes...

This morning began the way the best mornings do, with Whiskey Kitty pressed against my cheek, purring like a tiny motor of unconditional love and giving gentle ear licks as if to say, Wake up, human. The day needs you. Instead of our usual routine, I placed her in her carrier and handed her off to Mom for a trip to the pet hospital. Today was supposed to be her spay appointment. She wasn’t thrilled about the early interruption, and neither was I. To make matters more complicated, she wasn’t supposed to eat, but she had food last night and...

Whiskey Kitty bit me hard this morning. Not a love nibble. Not a playful warning. A full-on, you-slept-too-long-and-I-am-starving bite. Message received. I have to wake up earlier. This cat runs on a strict internal clock, and it does not observe snooze buttons. After feeding her, I did the thing I already knew I was going to do. I went and bought another pack of cigarettes, fully aware of the decision while I was making it. No fog. No mystery. Just me, the counter, and a quiet nod to a habit that still knows my name. My caseworker texted me a...