(no subject)
One of the kittens I adopted recently died this morning. Poor little thing didn't have a good life but he was well treated while I had him. There was just too many things wrong with him and nothing I did seemed to help. At least the other one seems to be doing fine. So now once the fat cat goes back to Erin, I'll be back down to two again. The surviving kitten's name is Eliot after, you guesssed it, T.S. Eliot. He's very loving and playful. He'll even ride in the truck with me and enjoys it. However, I am having some sort of wierd allergice reaction to something in this house and I don't know what it is. It'll kill me if it's him, but I've never had this kind of reaction to a cat before so it has to be another cause. Tracy has it too. If I could just get her to get up and help completely clean the place and do some laundry, it might help. She always accused me of being messy when we got together but now, I clean, do dishes and cook. Quite well too, I might add. Oh well, chicken is cooking and I am considering a trip to the ER to see what is causing this rash because I've had just about enough of it. It's worse than my reaction to Zoloft, minus the massive swelling. Ick. I hate hospitals.