News

As you can probably guess by now, Whiskey woke me up. Not gently. Not politely. This was the full kitten alarm clock experience: jumping around, biting me, and initiating games on the side of the bed like a caffeinated ninja. I tried to play along by catching her, but instead I caught her little teeny arm. That can hurt a little kitty, and the last thing I want is to be that guy, so I immediately aborted the mission, got out of bed, made sure she was fed, and took her downstairs to run around for a while. That took...

This morning I woke up to Whiskey Kitty’s mouth right next to mine, delivering love and kisses like a tiny, furry alarm clock. Then came the claws. Sharp ones. Straight into my skin. They hurt. Clearly, it’s time for a nail trim before affection turns into a crime scene. As if that weren’t enough feline drama for one morning, mom’s cat Herbie managed to trip her on her bowl. She’s 87 years old, and getting up wasn’t easy. That shook me a bit. Thankfully, after the chaos, Herbie came over and gave her some love too, like a fuzzy apology...

I woke up this morning to Whiskey Kitty bouncing around the bed like a tiny trampoline with fur, delivering kisses, love, and that unmistakable kitten enthusiasm for the dawn. For a few minutes, life was pure purr and chaos. Then the joy dimmed as reality crept in. Legal problems have a way of doing that. I lay there thinking about what could happen if things don’t go right, and how fragile the next few weeks feel. I made a decision not to spiral. I’ll wait until Tuesday and contact my public defender. No catastrophizing before breakfast. Instead, I fed Whiskey...

This morning began the way many of my mornings do now: with Whiskey Kitty launching a small but determined ambush on my hand. She wanted to grab, bite, wrestle. I countered by turning it into a game, gently grabbing her little arm and pulling her onto the bed. Then I remembered she’s still a kitten and not a professional stunt performer. So I surrendered. I let her climb up, slobber on my ear like a tiny Saint Bernard, curl into my neck, and fall back asleep with that soft, motorboat purr. Not a bad way to start a smoke-free day....

Day 100.That number feels heavier than it looks. Right now, my life reads like a juggling act performed on a tightrope. I’m dealing with a criminal court case, the lingering shadow of cancer, and the daily responsibility of domesticating a kitten who has no concept of personal space or legal boundaries. If there’s a theme today, it’s fear. Not the cinematic kind, but the quiet, administrative kind. The kind that shows up in paperwork, appointments, waiting rooms, and unanswered questions. Fear lives in systems. Courts. Doctors’ offices. Institutions designed to help, but often structured in ways that make you feel...