Wednesday, Oct. 26, 2011 - 2:53 p.m.

Cats are back. It was so nice not having them around for a day. With their fucking standing outside the baby's room yowling when she's sleeping, shitting on the floor for no reason, and running into my studio if I leave the door cracked open for half a second. And begging for food and water out of habit early in the morning, even if they already have some. The lady at the kennel advised us to continue keeping them inside given all the predators in this part of the country; even owls will get cats here. Fuck, if they could guarantee it, I might start putting them out.

Is that mean? Well, shitting on the floor every goddamn day is mean.

Ballyhoo is only about 13; if we don't start exposing him to disease and risk soon, we could be cleaning up shit off the floor every day for another 7-8 years. Not really sounding too good to me at the moment.

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