Even though they are supposed to come in threes, here is #4

The capacity a human has for grief and stress is amazing. I watched Birth the other night and thought this. Like foreshadowing of dire events to come, however, it did leave a pall over my days until the hammer dropped.

My roommate informed me that her stray-cum-adopted cats carry feline FIP. It is nasty. It is aerosol. It is contagious. It is fatal.

So my little boyfriend went in for a battery of bloodwork this morning. Comprehensive feline blood tests? Bloody expensive! I hope to hear that he is fine. I will have to ship him to live with my mother if he is, just to get him out of the house. Apparently the idea of having two infectious animals with a healthy one does not lead to the next logical conclusion of getting rid of the sick ones. So I will try to get my lovely orange buddy evacuated from the area.

What do the two thoughts have to do with each other? Every time I think I have hit the bottom... a trap door opens beneath me to a whole new loss, a whole new low I couldn't perceive possible.

I wish I had been stronger. "No, he is an indoor cat, do not put him outside, even if he is on a leash." "No, you cannot bring a stray into the house." "No you cannot bring another stray into the house."
My weakness might have signed the death warrant on my little buddy.