More of the Usual Crap

Portia didn't show up last night or so far tonight. I think she might have gotten tired of not being allowed the run of the house and found herself another place to live. When I've seen her arriving in the past it's usually been from across the street, near the house on the corner where there's an elderly lady who lives alone. I think she might have taken the cat in. It would probably be a good place for a kitty. She'd probably have more attention there than she gets here, and more room to run around in.

The feral cats weren't around this afternoon either, so there was time to rake the early-fallen leaves. The cats returned about dusk and looked at me through the window until I took them some food. The brave kitten now gets within two or three feet of the bowl as I fill it. If I let them starve for a couple of days he'd probably be ready to eat out of my hand just to get fed. I won't do that, though, because they would all be looking at me with those sad eyes the whole time they were starving. I'm so kitten-whipped.

Mom is still keeping me very busy, and I'm still semi-comatose from that and from insufficient sleep, and from the heat. It's summer. I ought to be on vacation.