krispy kreme

I ate four Krispy Kreme donuts, warmed in the microwave. Adam brought them home. He had eaten five for breakfast. I scolded him. And then I ate four. But they're so good!

Jupiter is missing Tuesday very visibly. He wanders the house crying louder than usual, almost a wail. He's acting up with Puff, trying to entice her to play with him the way Tuesday would rough-play with him. She is having none of it, screaming and hissing every time he jumps on her (Tuesday knew that game). But Jupiter seems to be trying to fill the void. The other night, Saturday morning, Adam and I woke up to see Jupiter walking across us, purring, rubbing against us in a very familiar way. He obviously had watched Tuesday do this many times. He will come to me more often now, purring immediately and headbutting my hand and generally doing his best to be sweet and loving. He needs a playmate soon, another young cat or kitten who he can play with: bite, swat, roll around with, pounce on, chase all over the house. Soon enough. We'll adopt a female kitten probably after the new year, after our hearts have healed slightly, after the home has had time to adjust to the emptiness.
When I came home earlier, the light was on and the door was unlocked (someone was already home). As I started to open the door, I glanced expectedly through the full-length window, because Tuesday almost always waited, staring. But all I saw was an empty hallway. And I saw Puff, sitting in the doorway to the living room, regal long gray fur. And I remembered. Tuesday isn't here, she's gone. Of course. And a few tears fell. And I opened the door and walked inside and met Danny at the top of the stairs.
I washed dishes. Adam came home and made dinner. And here I am, typing, full of Krispy Kreme donuts.

krispy kreme

I ate four Krispy Kreme donuts, warmed in the microwave. Adam brought them home. He had eaten five for breakfast. I scolded him. And then I ate four. But they're so good!

Jupiter is missing Tuesday very visibly. He wanders the house crying louder than usual, almost a wail. He's acting up with Puff, trying to entice her to play with him the way Tuesday would rough-play with him. She is having none of it, screaming and hissing every time he jumps on her (Tuesday knew that game). But Jupiter seems to be trying to fill the void. The other night, Saturday morning, Adam and I woke up to see Jupiter walking across us, purring, rubbing against us in a very familiar way. He obviously had watched Tuesday do this many times. He will come to me more often now, purring immediately and headbutting my hand and generally doing his best to be sweet and loving. He needs a playmate soon, another young cat or kitten who he can play with: bite, swat, roll around with, pounce on, chase all over the house. Soon enough. We'll adopt a female kitten probably after the new year, after our hearts have healed slightly, after the home has had time to adjust to the emptiness.
When I came home earlier, the light was on and the door was unlocked (someone was already home). As I started to open the door, I glanced expectedly through the full-length window, because Tuesday almost always waited, staring. But all I saw was an empty hallway. And I saw Puff, sitting in the doorway to the living room, regal long gray fur. And I remembered. Tuesday isn't here, she's gone. Of course. And a few tears fell. And I opened the door and walked inside and met Danny at the top of the stairs.
I washed dishes. Adam came home and made dinner. And here I am, typing, full of Krispy Kreme donuts.

krispy kreme

I ate four Krispy Kreme donuts, warmed in the microwave. Adam brought them home. He had eaten five for breakfast. I scolded him. And then I ate four. But they're so good!

Jupiter is missing Tuesday very visibly. He wanders the house crying louder than usual, almost a wail. He's acting up with Puff, trying to entice her to play with him the way Tuesday would rough-play with him. She is having none of it, screaming and hissing every time he jumps on her (Tuesday knew that game). But Jupiter seems to be trying to fill the void. The other night, Saturday morning, Adam and I woke up to see Jupiter walking across us, purring, rubbing against us in a very familiar way. He obviously had watched Tuesday do this many times. He will come to me more often now, purring immediately and headbutting my hand and generally doing his best to be sweet and loving. He needs a playmate soon, another young cat or kitten who he can play with: bite, swat, roll around with, pounce on, chase all over the house. Soon enough. We'll adopt a female kitten probably after the new year, after our hearts have healed slightly, after the home has had time to adjust to the emptiness.
When I came home earlier, the light was on and the door was unlocked (someone was already home). As I started to open the door, I glanced expectedly through the full-length window, because Tuesday almost always waited, staring. But all I saw was an empty hallway. And I saw Puff, sitting in the doorway to the living room, regal long gray fur. And I remembered. Tuesday isn't here, she's gone. Of course. And a few tears fell. And I opened the door and walked inside and met Danny at the top of the stairs.
I washed dishes. Adam came home and made dinner. And here I am, typing, full of Krispy Kreme donuts.