COV25D-19

I took yesterday off from blogging about this mess. And today I was very engaged with lots of work tasks and lots of meetings. I've only just now finished things up enough to even think if there is anything worth writing about. 

And right now? No, not really.

Once Lynda got done working, she and the girls spent the last half-hour or so playing with the mother cat and her kittens. The kittens, by the way are maybe two weeks old? Still quite small and barely moving much on their own. Only yesterday did they start venturing out of the crate and trying to explore--and that is still pretty occasional. The mother cat nurses them pretty well and seems to like hiding them (when they aren't in the crate) alongside the unfinished wall of the basement where I propped up two old wall-sized mirrors. It gives a narrow channel of tight space that I assume she finds comforting. But who knows? Maybe she is trying to get rid of them. Not all animals are good parents, I guess. But Lynda, Sarah, Grace, and Hannah won't let anything bad happen to these kittens. They will intervene whatever the price to be paid

Maybe it is my cold, black heart, my black-painted fingernails, or maybe it is the fact that I spent several days last week reading manuscript about Social Darwinism, twisted evolutionary theories of nineteenth-century urban America . . . but I think they intervene too much. They are letting these kittens imprint on them and I'll never be able to get rid of them when this foster situation "comes to an end." I knew the second I let these animals into the house I was doomed.

Oh well. I guess I'd better create some PowerPoint presentations about the Prime Directive, so the rest of my family will gain a better understanding of when it is appropriate to intervene in the lives of lesser species.