Good morning.

Steve likes to sleep with his paw(s) on his nose sometimes.

Alright, then.

I have a history of abandoning blogs. Maybe that won't happen, this time.

The cats are well, in a cheery mood. They were little nasties last week, I welcome the change. Now I can clean and not supervise! Ares leaves Carlie alone if you tell him he's a good boy. All of our crazy ideas to try and fix him, and that's all we had to do. It seems almost too easy. A woman was interested in my beloved Apollo on wednesday. She is retired and lives alone, which would normally prevent hr from passing our application; we almost always require that an adoptee take 2 cats if they don't already have one. However, Apollo is black, so Peggy and I have a feeling that the application will be approved. Everyone is lights up when they are told Martha is gone. She is a wonderful cat. With her cage empty we moved some around and put out the 4 ringworm kittens. Leroy has a big cage now, and Carlie is on the end where she will get more attention.

Things in the house have been moved to allow the carpets to be steam cleaned. We have a new realtor who plans on really pushing the house. Finally a competent person. I don't like the change and lack of comfort in the house, though. Neither do the animals. Most of the dogs' toys are put away, making a very sad Steven. Lilly must stay in her cage most of the time. Carly tore apart the cage again last night so Lilly has some temporary freedom.

Lilly is off the vet on monday. Just a health checkup. Once she passes we will set up the appointment for her spay. Hundreds of dollars in vet bills, plus at least three 2+ hour drives to the vet for a minimum of 12 hours driving back and forth, all for a silly rabbit.

To Autumn by William Blake
O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stain'd
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest,
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.
'The narrow bud opens her beauties to
The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;
Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and
Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,
Till clust'ring Summer breaks forth into singing,
And feather'd clouds strew flowers round her head.
'The spirits of the air live in the smells
Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round
The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.
'Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat,
Then rose, girded himself, and o'er the bleak
Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.

I love autumn.