We've lost another cat. Simba. I guess of all of them, he's the one that would run away. We gave him the best life we could, but the people who had him before were very hard on him. Still, I had thought he was adjusting amazingly. Just last night...just 10 measley hours before he ran away...the other two had a mouse and they shared it with him for the first time. Like he was one of them. He had finally fit in, and he was...
Well now I'm a sobbing idiot. But I truly am feeling the "Be careful what you wish for" vibe. I complained about having my mind always on those fucking dirtbikers and their fucking interloping...well...this is something. I had been hoping for something nice, like a good book, starting the blueberry job...anything but...THIS.
My poor Simba. Perhaps I am jumping to conclusions. Still we've lost 3 other cats, and not a one of them was seen again. So hoping he will show up just hurts more than it will help, I'm sure.
I've got to quit, i feel like i'm falling in.
