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I woke up this morning to a full-scale feline ambush. Whiskey Kitty was in full pounce-and-dart mode, launching herself across the room like a tiny, furry missile. She leapt onto the bed, biting, nibbling, and generally attempting to dismantle me piece by piece. No hesitation. No mercy. Just pure kitten chaos. Which, as it turns out, can only mean one thing: the cat was hungry. It took me a few minutes to orient myself to the day. Eventually, I got up, showered, and fulfilled my duties as the household’s primary food dispenser. I even opened a brand-new bag of kitten...

Today I woke up wrapped in one of those small, perfect moments that feels like a gift you didn’t order. Whiskey Kitty was in full affection mode. Ear licking, air kisses, warm snuggles. No biting, no nibbling, no tiny vampire phase. Just a cat being a soft, purring endorsement of staying alive and paying attention. Later in the day my brother came over, and together with mom worked through some paperwork I needed for my case. Nothing dramatic, just the steady, practical kind of teamwork that used to feel impossible. They also had their own family business to deal with,...

Today was heavy. We had to put down my mom’s cat, Herbie, yesterday. He had too many health problems stacked against him: kidney issues, diabetes, the whole unkind medical parade. He’d been with my mother since my father passed in 2010, a quiet, furry constant through grief, routine, and time. That kind of companionship doesn’t announce itself loudly, but when it’s gone, the room notices. He will be remembered. He will be missed. 🐾 Court, thankfully, went OK. Not great, not terrible. Just OK. In the world of court, OK is a small mercy. The reality, though, is that I...

This morning started the way most good mornings do lately, with Whiskey Kitty launching a full-scale affection campaign. Air kisses, across-the-room pouncing, little nibbles and bites, all delivered with the urgency of someone who believes love should never be late. In her own chaotic way, she made sure I was awake in time for my therapy appointment. Alarm clocks could take notes. I also walked to the store for tea, which counts as exercise in my book. Forward motion is forward motion, even if it’s fueled by caffeine and habit. No smoking, no bargaining, no mental gymnastics. Just walking, breathing,...

This morning started gently. No ambush, no flying paws, no kitten parkour off my ribcage. Just air kisses and warmth from Whiskey Kitty. Soft fur. Slow blinks. The kind of calm that feels earned. It was one of those rare mornings where the world doesn’t demand anything immediately, it just sits beside you and breathes. Then reality clocked in. We headed to the psychiatrist for a routine visit, though nothing feels routine when paperwork meets the justice system. I need a letter from him confirming that I’m under psychiatric care. Simple on paper, complicated in tone. He hesitated. He was...