Cat life goes on.

“I’m glad that you’re such a good walker, Lake. That was my plan that you would be a good walker. If I don’t want to walk in our neighborhood, well, we have a car seat, we could take him anywhere!”

“$200,000 was too steep so here’s what you get: a dirty neighborhood to walk in at two in the morning. A crime ridden neighborhood.”

“My little snoozer. I’m going to start calling you Sleeper Agent. Maybe that will rub off.”

“What are we gonna do about getting you some food, honey!”

(Breast feeding) “mmmmmfff. ooooooooohh.” “Look at your nose! Your nose gets all kind of smushed.”

“It’s a good thing to start out the day in a wet diaper!”

“It was not really that bad in retrospect, he suckled for 4 hours, and slept for 2 hours. But during that period of time it’s the thoughts that really get you. It wasn’t as bad as the night before when I was envisioning my psychiatric admit, and planning his adoption by my brother and sister in-law. But the thoughts can be pretty dark in the middle of the night. I thought that I could see his fontanels, worrying that he’s gettting more and more dehydrated and weak waiting for my milk to come in. I’d be feeding him and I’d fall asleep. I just couldn’t stay awake. I tried any number of different things: lying in bed feeding him, sitting up on the sofa feeding him, trying to lie him down in his Moses basket. I think predominantly I was on the sofa with the light on so that if he popped off I could ensure that he got a good relatch. I cozied the comforter around me so it was kind of like I was in bed.”

“He looks worried. He does! Stop typing!”

A disused basket.

“Can we think of anything else to do besides suckle? Rub our nose? That’s good. Chew on our fist? That’s good.”