Jack Spratt

And so the days fly by and I have nothing to show for it except a big fat load of ennui.  I accomplish far less than I could, so rather than feel proud of the few projects I've completed, I feel guilty for all the hours I've squandered.  If   When I do find a job in this decade, I will undoubtedly kick myself for wasting weeks of perfectly useful free time.

Most recently, though, my thoughts have centered around (what else? They're my only companions) the cats. Specifically, Joey.  Poor Joey.  He joined the family as a young adult with nowhere else to go.  Our current cats were Chase and Catch, who had been here since they were fluffy little kittens.  Also present was Lottie, whom they tolerated because she arrived as a little girl ,kitty. (After Catchy died Lottie and Chase became inseparable).  Several others came and went, but that's another post.  Anyway,  Joey broke the cat-adding rules: he was a boy, and an adult.  Two strikes against him.  He and Catch rubbed each other the wrong way from the get-go and even fought in the early days; as icky old Catch declined the tension faded.  But nobody made any friendly overtures.  Joey had a capital L on his forehead.  He ate lunch alone.

At Christmas, Joey asked Santa for feet. And one friend.

Somewhere along the way, Joey began to barf.  Often. Like, daily.  Or more often than daily.  On Dr L's advice, we found a no-corn, no-chicken dry food they all agreed to eat.  In two months, the hurling is down to almost nothing.  A few weeks ago, though, I noticed that Joey had become much thinner.  He had managed to puke continuously for months  and remain very solid, but now, his stomach settled, he is wasting away.  Shiny, bright-eyed and serene, but emaciated.  Skeletal.  If he had no fur he would be too awful to look at.

How bad could this duck-and-pea crap taste?  Lottie shrugged and ate it, and remained fat (She eats birds, for crying out loud).  Chase shrugged and ate it, and remained thin.  Joey shrugged and seemed to eat it. And lost three pounds.  That's a lot, if you're a cat.  Today, in desperation, I found some canned cat food with no corn. (They all relish canned food but it's a smelly nuisance that makes them pester me all day long, and I yanked it off the menu several years back) Joey ate an entire can; as ravenous as if he'd been trapped in a mine for several weeks. Now, he's sleeping; sated.  I fear waking to the sounds of imminent disgusting cat vomit.

I can't let him starve.