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A kitty and a virus

Just when you think you have everything under control, flies land in the ointment. Yucky flies. Stinky ointment. October became a difficult month for me. And then entered a remarkable little bright spot. At the beginning of October I was optimistic my plans for the month would be realized without a hitch. Unbeknownst to me at the time (and now that I think about it, everything is always unbeknownst to me until I know it), the universe had other plans.

I am recovering from the virus. The novel COVID19. I wore my mask, washed my hands, kept my distance and thought I was out-smarting the germs. Not so. I left my mask at home to spend some time with family and hugged a brother. In the weeks after the hug several of his co-workers also contracted the virus, eleven in all. That brother and another, and my husband, also tested positive.

I've coughed, shivered and slept. This sickness kicked my butt and I lost nearly three weeks of good, productive living. Enter the bright spot.

Irby. A four-week-old Siamese kitten found at the intersection of Irby and Palmetto Streets in Florence, S.C. Someone rescued her, and then we rescued her from her rescuer. Over the next two weeks, we slowly introduced her to our sixteen-month-old long-haired tabby, Buddy. COVID gave me the gift of time, even if it stole my productivity. All I did for those weeks was listen to purrs and watch funny antics of a kitten on the road to discovery.

I recovered. Irby discovered, and Buddy learned tolerance.

And now it's November and all the world is new again. Sure hope this month you find some fun in whatever unpleasantness comes your way.

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