So, of course, Eleanor stopped shitting as well, so I dosed her with laxatives for a couple of days until she shat. Change of food and stress in the house, no doubt, but I just wasn't having it.
Spider love.
Compost your dead.
Moby got a bit out himself, despite missing the box. We aren't complaining. Just glad it's all working again.
Dylan made gorgeous hot soup for when we both got home this evening, with some of the hot Hungarian paprika we found.
That's it. Night.
2 comments:
My best wishes to you all. Looks like events have turned a welcome corner.
ah, the cat's out of the bad (or maybe, the crap's out of the cat(s)?) with D's full name! neato!
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