I SUCK

Late one night I was having some beers and smoking up a storm, just generally enjoying myself as Flint slept peacefully, fully trusting me not to be a ridiculous fuck-up. So anyway, because I couldn't quit smoking, and because I like fresh air, I realized I was near asphyxiation, and so I went upstairs, opened some windows, and turned on the ceiling fan to suck the smoke up and out. I didn't count on Zebedee escaping so quickly, presumably by launching himself out the window. That was Tuesday night. We haven't seen or heard from him since, despite CL ads and humane society visits and Pet Harbor registries. This Sunday morning, MF and I went on a looking-and-calling trip around the neighborhood. Horror of horrors, we found his collar on the ground near the open space, less than 2 blocks away. No trace of any cat stuff like hair or blood or anything, but while I hope for the best, I fear the worst. This is my fucking fault, and now Baby (aka Puff Mama, aka Flufferella) is alone and lonely without her bully big brother, Flint is dejected and likely upset with me beyond all previous upsetnesses, and I have yet another load of guilt and shame and just general self-loathing to carry around with me. Yay.