Kitten still alive. She has pooped in the litter box. For some reason, I am taking this as a sign of great intelligence.
Boys are here and cuddled in the bed. We've had a good day.
I just apologized to Owen for it being cold in my bed.
"That's okay," he said. "I'm not mad. I could never get mad at my sweet Mer."
It's not that cold. Really. And he's under three layers of covers. He'll be fine.
So shall we all be. You too, okay?