This morning, after working (and sweating) in the garden,
I noticed that Sunday (whose name is turning into just plain old "Kitty")
was acting really weird. She was lethargic and terribly clingy.
I thought maybe she, too, was affected by the heat.
After work, I walked to the porch and found her snuggled up in Christian's
work coveralls.
I picked her up, and she acted like a lifeless stuffed animal,
and draped herself over my legs.
I knew something was wrong with her, and as the day went on
the worse she got and the more despondent she became.
It was the saddest thing!
I filled up her water and noticed she hadn't touched her food.
Something was definitely wrong.
I brought her bed into the house (which I said I'd never do),
where she stayed curled up in a tight ball.
I had to tap her a few times because I was scared she wasn't breathing.
With each hour that went by, I swear she got skinnier.
She wasn't drinking or eating or even opening her eyes.
I was heartbroken!
What was happening?
While I tried to feed Kitty with a syringe, Christian was welding the
over-the-table rod for my backyard tables. NBD.
Claire (who is home from her job in Texas) said to me:
"Mom, how will I ever find a husband like Dad
who can do literally anything?!"
It's true, he's amazing.
A true Renaissance, man!
Pray for Kitty!!
