Well, the cat still hasn’t moved, still hasn’t eaten, still hasn’t drunk water. He sits in his corner of the bathroom, behind the toilet bowl, and when he’s forced to walk, he walks with a certain drunken stance, listing a little from side to side. My friend Jane says that one of her painter’s cats is sick, with a liver disease transmitted through the air. That would suck. Does anyone know if this is the case?
Mom and Dad are basically urging that it’s time to put the cat to sleep, but doing so in a very restrained, very non-in-your-face kind of way.
Dad asked me for a walk, just-us-guys, on the beach tomorrow, 7am. Joy.
Mom’s cleaning lady is here, and I’ve got to go out and not be here.