he heard my cry for mercy...

Simon is okay. Thank you, sweet Jesus, my sweet Simon is okay.

He shat out a mass of elastic webbing this morning -- the second one around the second roast. That idiot. He's never gone after meat products in the trash before.

I've never been so excited about feces in my life.

And he's back to his old self again -- sleeping on my best clothes, hurling himself on the floor at my feet to writhe around "in an ecstacy of love" (Green Grass of Wyoming), yowling for another snack of kitty food whenever I get up from the couch, purring whenever I come within three feet of him. His fever is gone, and he seems vastly better. He even patiently suffers my forcing an antibiotic down his throat every morning.

Thank God. I live alone, I'm single, all of my friends are away, I'm tired and lonely and adjusting to a lot. I've really come to rely on the presence of my darling when I come home, waiting at the door and miaowing as he hears me come up the steps.

He's part of home, and I love him, and I need him. I'm so deeply grateful that I get to keep him for awhile longer (hopefully for many more years).

Thanks to all who were praying! I'm extremely, deeply grateful to you as well.

My kitty boy. He's so fricking cute...as soon as Marianne rolls into the Bend, I'll borrow her digital camera to show everyone. (YAY MP IS COMING BACK!!!)