Chet's at the vet's again. It continues not to look good. The momentum shifts toward some version of giving up, though that doesn't necessarily mean soon. But it doesn't necessarily mean not.
.plan this a.m.:
>f lan
Oh, goodness.
I have this old cat, Chester, as many of you know. He's 19. He's
failing. It sucks.
Heavy sigh.
This morning, however, I have two gut senses that are good to have:
that I have what it'll take to get through it, no question about it,
and that I'm feeling it, not not feeling it, and I'm gonna be feeling
it.
These are blessings, whether bestowed by kind spirits, Chance, or just
what life's done with me so far.
