Mr Lonely and the Interloper

Augh! I think Squoosh is feeling better. :-) He's rumbling and ticking and purring on my chest (I'm reclined way back) trying to beat the living hell out of my necklace. 2ZVVVVVBBBBBA2555XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ummm...that was Squoosh. He had something important to say. He's been trying to type for an hour, and I told him he could here if he wanted to. I didn't let him type in any of my emails to instructors or school people just now, 'cos I didn't think they'd...ummm...speak Squooshable.

But I assured him that what he just wrote here was very well-put and insightful.

Now that Squoosh is feeling somewhat better, he's talking a lot more. :-) As soon as I put him back in the bathroom, he starts crying. As soon as I pick him up, he stops crying and starts purring.

If this was designed to make me feel guilty, it works like a charm.

And I am still so paranoid that Squoosh isn't going to be okay. He's just so tiny. I'm normally paranoid and neurotic, but...he's just so teensy and sick-ish and frail-ish, that I'm more nutty than usual, I guess. I'm just scared that I'm going to do something, or not do something, and he's going to die.

Squoosh still has his little head-tilt from the infection. Hopefully that will go away soon, as will the stumbling, but as bad of me as it is to say it, he looks cute with the head-tilt.

And we like to play Fingers--that's the fun game where you grab a moving finger with your needle-sharp claws, pull it to your mouth, and try to nurse, interspersed with sinking our little fangs into the nasty, evil finger. :-) Ouch! But...I'm a wuss. I don't have the heart to correct him, so I let him play. Yeowch! Another version of Fingers is played by me waggling slowly my fingers, and he takes turns sticking the tip of each one in his mouth, but not biting down. Fingers is like, the coolest game in the world; a million times better than bizzy balls, or anything else I could buy. We can play Fingers for at least an hour or so before we have to go back to sleep. It rocks.

And I swear to god--I gave him food this morning and left him in the bathroom, and as I left for work, I heard him singing "Lonely... I'm Mr Lonely..."

I may name him Squooshable Bobby Vinton. :-) Or Squooshable Bobby Vinton Baconface. We majorly pigged out on bacon bits from my BLT wrap.

Bacon and Fingers. Who could ask for more?

Am I going to keep him? Augh.

I shouldn't. But I want to. I already love the little guy. And I think about him all the time. But I feel guilty; I mean, I just lost Puff. I shouldn't go replacing her like this. She was irreplaceable. But Squoosh needs me. Someone else might not sneak out early from work to come home and play Fingers. He likes Fingers.

So I just don't know. But I am going to keep him until he's done with his antibiotics and is all well and everything. At the very least. And probably gains some weight. So we're talking like, two or three weeks.

So I won't think about it until then.

Now for the incredible part:

When I came home, I got out of my car and tried to go into the house... And my house was almost broken into! Yes...someone tried to follow me into my house, and I think he (or she) is still at my front door. He (or she) is about mid-calf in height, white and grey, and wears a blue necklace with a bell. And he (or she) is very dirty.

What in the hell is going on? Am I a cat magnet? Did word of Puff's death get out, and now I'm getting volunteers?

This is an older cat--you can tell he's older. And big. I fed him and gave him some water, and a kitty vitamin. He's too friendly to be a stray. I'm hoping he'll go back home. If he's still there in the morning, then I'll call the Pet Rescue people. I so completely totally cannot take on a fourth cat.

I just put Squoosh up for the night. When he goes to sleep, he looks very limp. That scared the hell out of me the first time I saw him asleep; I thought he was dead. He's just...limp-looking. I can't imagine why, and no other cat I've had did that when they were a kitten. Or maybe they did, and I never noticed, I don't know. Most of the time when he's awake, he looks pretty good. But then when he gets sleepy, like tonight, he just looks very bad, and I'm afraid he'll die. But he has a pretty face, and he's so nice, and quick to purr. I so totally have my fingers crossed that he will hurry up and get over the ear infection and gain weight. Then maybe I won't worry so much.

Yeah, so I need to be put on a permanent Valium drip myself. Sigh. I love the little guy. I can't help it.

I think the cat at my door might belong to the family across the street. I hope he does, though if he does, I think he was kicked out because of their new baby, which is mean and bad and wrong. I hope like hell he's not belonging to the mouthbreathers diagonal to me; they're horrid people. Even their children are mouth-breathing rednecks, who play in the road (yes--they let their children play in traffic; if that isn't Natural Selection at work, then I don't know what is!). Ok, this is a residential area, and so there's not traffic traffic, but there are still people who drive way too fast, and why court disaster? Especially when you have a huge lawn and drive in which your children can play. And beat each other up. And scream. And run around half-naked.

God help me, ever since they moved in almost two years ago, you can practically *hear* the property values dropping. All they need to do is put a burnt-out Chevy up on cinderblocks in the front yard, and the picture shall be complete. I could continue to whine about them, but I'll sum it all up by saying thank god for homeowners' associations. You think they're Nazis, until Mouthbreathers move in.

Eviljob was, well...Evil. As always. But it is a boring Evil. :-) But I am all uncomfortable now, for some reason. I mean physically. Like I was sitting for too long, which I probably was. So my butt is as numb as my mind, and I'm achy.

I had better go to sleep, or I'll worry about Squooshable all night. He's all I can think about. I guess I've really come to love the little guy a lot in just a few days.