Sometimes, things are just awkward.

Unless I grew up calling an adult by their first name, I don't think I'm alone in thinking that I prefer to call most adults by their last name, (a.k.a Mrs. Brown). Yes, they may feel like old farts, but you know what? Most of them are. I get that you're trying to be nice being on a first-name basis with me, but I'm nowere close to your age and you're my superior, so just do me a favor and let me call you by a proper title.



Meanwhile, Dusty came home today. He looks better, but he's on all sorts of kitty painkillers so he's mostly wandering around in a daze. Sometimes he eats, sometimes he falls asleep while sitting up, and sometimes he growls at the wall. Yup, he's high as a kite!




Those yellow tubes are keeping his wounds from getting infected, or something along those lines. I get to hold him down while my mom squirts water in them to flush them out. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.



Now that he's home, mom thinks every move his makes deserves commentary and/or celebration. Every five minutes i get to hear things like "Dusty's eating! LOOK BECKY, DUSTY'S EATING!!!!!!!!!!" and, "DUSTY HAD A LITTLE POOPIE!" He also gets unlimited Fancy Feast, so maybe things aren't so bad for him.


Sadly, not much else happened today.