"Mind If I Have a Smoke?"

So while my mother would love it if I didn't waste my time blogging whilst at school, I thought this was definitely an appropriate thing to blog about.

Firstly, as with many colleges (universities and community colleges like mine), there are "Campus Events" that happen periodically for seemingly no reason at all. Today was Cancer Awareness Day. I don't know exactly what the day's events entail, especially since all of the fake lungs, hearts, stomaches, colins, bones and bags of blood are set up in the cafeteria, but I do know that I get free food for pretending to be interested.

Basically, students just had to walk around, talk to the people in scrubs, get a piece of paper signed, and BAM! Free food of the nacho chip (no nacho dip) and sandwich wrap variety.

This is all well and good, except that we are all walking around looking at blackened organs, diseased skin, large white masses of I-don't-know-what, huge blown up pictures of moles, and decrepit looking people in wheel chairs with oxygen nose tubes.

Definitely unappetizing.

And of course, the coup d'etat, a giant poster with a suave looking man saying, "Mind if I have a smoke?"

His lady-friend replies, "Mind if I just die?"

I think it is time to eat somewhere else than the plastic organ freak show happening in the main causeway of the cafeteria.

It's Just Sad

Honestly, the state of things really is sad. I should be happy my cousin had a healthy baby, that I am getting through my classes, that my kitten is spayed. But I am not, and it is for a VERY specific reason.

See, my very good friend Gina, who even has a post dedicated to her, went crazy like a mother fucking Tasmanian Devil.

Firstly, she went and got pregnant with this guy who is so disinterested in her, it is almost not funny. He wants nothing to do with her so bad that he moved out of his mom's house and to his dad's that is in bum-fuck-nowhere, with no car, and definitely no motivation to get within a 39 and 1/2 foot pole length of her.

Then she got a little crazier, and broke into her mother's Yahoo Messenger, printed off some possibly suspicious, but not outright, blatantly stated messages. She "had to find them and show [her] dad." Of course, breaking into someone's account, or reading someone's diary, or going through someone's phone is to ME wrong on all counts, so I was more than annoyed. But I wasn't annoyed that she did these mean, malicious things to her mom. No, I was pissed the fuck off because, for whatever reason, she thought I was going to somehow think it was permissible for her to try to break her parents up.

I come from a broken home, and while my parents didn't have this horrible, awful break up, it was incredibly hard, and probably made harder by the simple fact that I understood what was going on. I was definitely old enough to catch on. My little brother was immune to all of the sadness, but I was twelve years old, and suddenly I was taking care of Alex during the whole summer while my parents worked all day.

So when she told me in general terms what she had done, I was rightfully pissed. She had made no thought for her brother and sister who were younger, socially challenged, and home schooled by her mother.

I told her not to come over, and it was soon after that we got into a fight. A few days after the fight, I had a serious emotional break down. Instead of being like a normal girl and crying it out about how unfair things were, I bottled up everything I was feeling. I became so incredibly pissed, and was on the verge of hurting someone I cared about. I could barely talk to people. While at work, my coworkers would talk to me, and all I could manage was to be incredibly pissed off, and answer tersely. I considered finding a kick boxing class so that I could push my anger into something as opposed to someone.

And then I had an idea.

Take Gina out of the equation.

So I sent her a very long text about how I could no longer be friends with someone who was so manipulative, cruel, mean, and vindictive. Because that was who she had become. I suppose I should have noticed earlier, maybe when she had been so psycho about how Carl didn't want to be with her monogamously. It should have been a warning sign when she was incredibly jealous of me hanging with Kyra, Ambria, or Gage. I should have maybe taken a step back when she started getting piss drunk after she had fights with my ex-boyfriend over me.

But I didn't until she did this horrible thing to her mom.

The worse part about what she did to her mom was that the messages weren't even very incriminating. Of course, I haven't seen the messages, but the way Gina would just not talk about them make me think there was really nothing of alarm.

And here I was thinking the end of our friendship was the saddest part of the night. But it wasn't.

See, it was tonight, (oh faithful Friday night), that I got to find out the coup d'etat. Gina told her mom, in a way to scare her mom into believing she knew something, that I had been spying on her. She told her I had incriminating photos of her mother and this dude. That I had been creeping around, taking pictures of her mom, because I obviously had no life what-so-ever, and could spend my time walking up and down the street waiting for her mom to boink some unsuspecting guy.

I guess I should be mad that Gina would say something like that. But honestly, it is so freaking expected for her to act like this crazy, conniving little person. But what I am really upset by is that her mother believed the lying daughter. When I was the only person who helped her make dinner for her family of seven plus whatever friends were over.

I peeled EGGS with the woman! I made egg fucking salad with her because she had four other things cooking. How she could believe that I would spy on her, when I am the number one seller of Do Your Own Thing, You Only Live Once, Life Is What You Make It, Live Like You're Dying, Shoot First Ask Questions Later. 

But no. Her mom just went ahead an believed that I was just as mean and conniving as Gina.

She was informed that there were no photos, of course. As a compulsive truth-teller, and definitely requiring my name to be a tabula rasa, I made sure she got the message that I was not some creepy picture taker/stalker.

My step brother told me a funny thing, after I talked to him and Sharon about this newest situation.

"It's like if you have a cup on a table, and you say there is a dollar under the cup. You pick up the cup, and there is no dollar. What did Gina think was going to happen? She doesn't have a dollar."

Baby Greyson

On September 16, (my mom's birthday), my cousin called me while I was at work to inform me that his girlfriend, Dana, had officially gone into labor. I was working the night shift, so it was possible that I wasn't going to be able to leave until ten that night. Sabastian wanted me to come up to the hospital though, so I made concerted efforts showing that the restaurant was not busy and therefore didn't need my awesome bussing skills.

Finally, around 6:30, my manager asked if I wanted to skidaddle, and I quickly agreed to shorten my shift. I was walking out the gate by 7. I walked to my car, called Sabastian and made sure to find out the key information I would need to not feel like a lost idiot. What parking lot, and which entrance I should use was part of that key information, as well as where exactly the elevators were located so that I could get to the second floor.

After hanging up, I drove home, changed my clothes, brushed my hair into a ponytail, and grabbed my Nook which had a new book downloaded on it. I hoped in my car, typed in the address for the hospital, and made my way down long, winding backstreets, and across a freeway I didn't even know existed. It was almost eight thirty by the time I got there, and dark outside.

I called my cousin again to let him know I was in the hospital, and met him on the second floor elevator entrance. It was clear that this was the baby birthing floor. Grandparents and little kids milled around, waiting for new children to be born. Sabastian led us past the happily waiting folks and to Dana's room.

It was dark when I walked in. When my cousin and I had spoken on the phone earlier, I had expected Dana to be in pain, or walking around, or doing other labor-like things. Instead she was asleep.

"That's the epidural. She says she can't feel a thing now." That was a weird concept to me. Of course, having never had a child of my own, (an aspiring to not have kids until after getting my Masters, at least) I didn't know how childbirth was. But I had a feeling that since women have been giving birth for thousands of years without pain killers, I thought an epidural was sort of an easy way out of the real childbirth process. But I didn't fault her for not wanting to be in pain.

Sabastian and I sat in the quiet dark, and I used the meager lighting from a low lying lamp to read. We were the only ones there until around ten when our grandparents came. They greeted us and Dana, acting like the excited, doting grandparents they wished they were. There was the SNAFU of them not going to the baby shower a few weeks earlier because "Sabastian never visits us," but my cousin seemed to forgive them. I smiled a little, having not forgotten their snub, and continued reading my book.

I texted my mom about the growing party of people, and she told me my Aunt Tracy was also arriving soon. I hadn't seen her in a long time, mostly because I was purposely avoiding her for how she treated me at my high school graduation. Three years later, and she still made me angry. But it was supposed to be a happy time, so I made that ghost of a smile that I gave my grandparents, and read further into my book.

Finally my Uncle John and his wife Christy showed up, and with disney movies in hand. It was almost eleven, and Dana's water had already been broken, and she had been checked three or four times to gauge how many centimeters she was. When I had arrived, she was only three, but as we put in Pocahontas, she was somewhere between eight and nine centimeters.

We got all the way through the movie, and the day had just turned over into Monday, the seventeenth. Dana had Sabastian call the nurse, because she was starting to feel a lot of pressure. The nurse came and kicked everyone out but Sabastian, and we were sequestered to the waiting area. I was unperturbed about being sent away. I wanted nothing to do with babies squeezing out of small places.

Tracy made me come and sit with her and my grandparents while we waited. We chatted for a minute about my own personal plans for my school success and the fact that I didn't want children, for a long time at least, or maybe at all. Then Tracy got antsy, and had to go listen at the door for the birth, leaving me and my grandparents. I would have been fine not talking to them at all. I didn't really have much to say to these people who had tried to insert themselves into my life way later than most grandparents. They hardly new anything about me other than I had dated a black guy, and was uninterested in sports.

Grandpa asked, like usual, "So you got a boyfriend?"

And like usual, "Nope," I responded.

"Oh, well, you will. I mean you go to college. I am sure there are boys there that want to be with you."

I shrugged, "It doesn't really matter. I am too focused on school to want to pay someone any attention." I clenched my jaw a little, annoyed that he seemed to feel my worth was on weather I had a boy to "support" me.

"You shouldn't be that focused," he clicked his tongue like I was a bad dog. "A girl like you needs a boy."

I sighed. It was obvious how much he didn't know my need for independence. I didn't respond to his comment, looking at my Nook.

"Is your mother going to come up here?" She was always "my mother" not his daughter. It didn't matter that he wasn't her biological father. She called him Dad.

"No, I don't think so. She is just getting home from her Birthday Bike Ride."

"That shouldn't stop her."

I came to her defense immediately. "It's not her child having a child. It's her nephew having a child. She doesn't have to be here if she is tired and can't make it. This is a special time for Trace and John. She doesn't need to intrude. I am here because Sabastian is more like an older brother to me than my own brother. She's just rode 77 miles in three days. She will see Greyson soon, and certainly isn't required to come to the hospital at one in the morning when she has work tomorrow." I was furious that he would just make a statement that it is her responsibility to show up to the hospital on a Monday morning because my cousin was having a baby.

"She could come up."

I bristled like a dog. "There are a lot of things people could do, but didn't choose to do for many, many years. But I won't hold that against them." I shook my head. Grandpa shut up, knowing full well that I was referring to the fact that they had barely made an effort to be in my life, or my younger brother's life until we were almost fourteen and eleven, respectively.

Tracy finally came around the corner with Christy telling us that Greyson was born, and that we would be able to see him soon. We all got up and went to wait around the door to the room and heard the baby screaming his ass off. I cringed inwardly, knowing that Sabastian and Dana would be dealing with that for years.

It was nearly an hour before they let us in to see the three of them. Dana was holding Greyson and looking tired, like she always does, and Sabastian was standing next to her, looking happy. Greyson was tiny. His measured twenty-one inches long, and eight pounds, six ounces. I looked at his little red face, which was kind of puckered, but not horribly so. He had Dana's chin, and nose, and Sabastian's unsloped eyes. His face was extra round and cherubic. I checked out his little ears, and saw they had the large detached lobes that Sabastian sported. His eyebrows were light brown, as way the little bit of hair that peeked out from under his hat.

He was basically totally adorable. And his eyes flickered around the room as we all crowded around, cooing, oohing and ahhing. I stroked his little soft cheek and forehead.

"We have to Simba him," I told Dana, and she smiled. "Just a little red clay paint, some excited zebras and elephants, and we got a celebration on our hands."

Tracy, John, Christy and my grandma all cried. I didn't feel that emotional about the situation, but I was happy to seem my new baby cousin healthy, albeit a little confused.

Tracy took her time to tell Dana thank you, I supposed for carrying her grandchild. Even though she had been complaining up to that point that she so did not want to be a grandma.

We all took pictures, and finally, I was tired and hungry enough that I was ready to leave. I told my cousin congrats, whispered things like, "You are going to have the best pseudo Aunt ever," to Greyson, told the ever sleepy Dana goodbye, and made my way with my grandparents and Aunt Tracy to the elevators and my car.

I drove home, feeling tired, but glad that everything went well, and that I was able to be there for my cousin. Three days later, and I haven't heard from him, but I hope things are going well. As for me, I am at school, feeling ever so lucky to not have to be a parent on top of barely not being a teenager.

The Float Trip

My dad and Sharon planned a float trip for July. Originally, Gina was supposed to come, but she didn't on account of many things, so I instead decided to bring my friends Ambria and Steph Dye.

A little background information will probably be good. Firstly, Ambria and I met in seventh grade, and have been steadfast friends. I only discovered around my freshman year of college that the only reason she ever talked to me to begin with was because she thought she would somehow be able to pick on me. Having two brothers and a male cousin has made me pretty unpickable. So my laughing at her attempts at being mean, and our similar intelligence levels made us easy friends. And lets not forget our endless sarcasm.

Steph Dye was met at our high school, freshman year. She was a bit of an enigma, though. She hung out with the seniors and juniors almost exclusively, and was incredibly talented at the cello. We didn't actually talk until we had a mutual class of IB Biology. We happened to sit next to each other, and it was like magic. We never stopped talking since that day.

It was natural for me to pick the two girls. I made all the plans on how to pick them up, procurement of coffee for the morning, and made sure everyone had a book.

Sharon and Dad drove separate cars, Dad in the truck with Sid, and the girls and I with Sharon and Dash.

It was a relatively pleasant drive until we got to the country road part of the trip, and the constant winding of the road made Steph sick.

Nonetheless, she made it through the wilderness, and we were finally able to set up camp. And even though the whole of the country was under drought warning, it managed to rain on us while we set up our tents.

After the tents were set up, we jumped in our bathing suits and headed for the river with the dogs. Sid was a natural swimmer, but my old boy Dash acted like he had never swam in his life.

I was deeply concerned about his annoyance with the river. I didn't want him to not enjoy himself just because he was an old man now.

That night Sharon "let" us drink. I was blasé about it. I was a little afraid to drink after my last bad weekend, so I only drank a few glasses of wine and super spiked punch.

The next morning, Sharon's friends Tammy, Laura and her boyfriend Jim, plus Dad's friend Ryan and his wife Dee. We were picked up on a bus and driven to the drop site, given our tubes and sent on our way.

Our way was an ice cold river on a day that was barely eighty degrees. I wasn't sure how fun it was going to be. After my ass cheeks were frozen solid, my hands and feet were slightly blue, I felt pretty fine. Ambria and Steph seemed to be okay too.

The only issue was that Sharon was not going to let us drink "under any circumstance." Her willpower was degraded over time, and when we finally made it to our second sandbar, I had more fruit punch and several Jello shots. And my dad was weirdly proud of me for showing Ambria and Steph how to do a Jello shot in one fell swoop.

By this point, it was my turn to take Dash. By this, I mean I had Dash laying across me and my inner tube. My sixty-five pound, very furry Australian Shepherd succeeded in elbowing me ribs, spleen, liver, stomach, appendix, and uterus. I thought I might have internal bleeding, but I soldiered on. I couldn't really kick him anyways. He was swimming like a bloated cow.

So for about three and half hours, I had my hot, wet dog draped across me like a quilt. It was about the time my ass was dragging over the twenty-third patch of rocks that I pawned Dash off onto Sharon. He seemed worried but content. She wasn't falling out the bottom of her inner tube, so I think that helped.

It was about hour six into our float that I think I gave up on life. I was sun tired, dehydrated, and had a case of skin pruning that was possibly irreversible. By that point, Dad, Ambria, Steph and I were all tied together via ropes and leashes. Before hand, Ambria and I had been the strongest swimmers and led our caravan away from rocks, trees, and stumps. At that point, we were more like dead weight. We ran into countless rock walls, trees, and fallen brambles. We didn't even have any drive to move out of the way of the drunk psychos jumping off of rock faces into an indeterminate depth of water.

Steph grew frustrated with our completely burned out demeanors. I didn't have any fight left to live though. And every passing person kept telling us how the dock site we needed was "just up the way." Ambria and I sang for the next hour this song for the next hour. We were obnoxious. 


When we actually made it around the river bend and were able to get off the water, I had never felt so relieved. Eight hours of river water and I was ready to not go on another float trip for at least two more years.

We were bused back to our camp site, and like Dash and Sid, Ambria, Steph and I collapsed into a very dead sleep.

Over all it was fun, and looking back on Ambria and I and our utter despondence to the walls of rock and dirt, and our butts being bruised by gravel because we are too tired to plank is pretty funny. We should have prepared ourselves mentally I suppose.

Blurry, Blurry

My vision has been bothering me for a while. Since I was in second grade I have been wearing glasses in some kind of capacity. I have always felt, especially in high school, that my glasses were kind of like a block to me being attractive.

I started wearing contacts six years ago, but allergies have always kept me from really being able to wear them on a constant basis. At best, I can wear my contacts all through winter, but maybe only four times a month any other part of the year.

It was really troubling though when this past year, I couldn't wear my contacts hardly at all. It was even more disappointing when my eyes became so bothered by my attempted contact use that I actually ended up with really sore, tired, red eyes. All this summer I have been fighting my eyes, starting with the red eye, and moving onto more serious eye problems of having seriously crusted eyes in the morning, to extreme light sensitivity, to blurred vision in my left eye.

I finally went to the doctor to try to clear things up. It has been greatly frustrating not knowing what is wrong with my eyes, so instead of going to my regular eye doctor, I decided to go to Clarkson.

It was there that I finally got some answers.

I explained how much my eyes bother me, and how badly my vision was blurred, including the fact that the blurred vision was accompanied by extreme light sensitivity. The doctor looked at my eyes, explained exactly what he was doing, and gave me a clear diagnosis.

I basically have chronically dry eyes. They are so dry that the normal stuff that usually lands on people's eyes, like dust and other shit, can't be washed out of my eyes. My left eye is way worse off than my right eye, but the doctor told me that my right eye was definitely on its way to becoming just as cloudy.

He gave me a prescription to help me. Basically I have to take these steroids four times a day, and my eye should start to heal itself.

Sadly, there is no guarantee that my eyes are ever going to get better. I have almost no tear production in my eyes, so I might always have to have artificial tears. And I may never be able to wear contacts, no matter how much I absolutely love them.

But on the plus side, my secret fear of going blind seems to be nothing more than a fear. So for that, I am grateful.

Bitch be Trippin'

Alas, I know it has been a while since I last posted, not including the story about my kitten. There have been many events occurring in and around my life, but tonight's event is definitely the most pressing, as it is the most recent.

I shall begin with the simple fact that the ex-boyfriend has a pregnant girlfriend. Weather it is actually his is totally the question of the day, because everyone knows she has been cheating on him, Chris just doesn't believe EVERYONE.

Naturally, as I do think Chris is a good person, just terribly naive, I dislike the girlfriend. And this is the same girlfriend of his I told he should "totes give a second chance" after her first indiscretion. I really tried to give her a chance, but seriously, she is a total twot.

Which brings me to tonight. Gina and I went over to visit our friend Kyra, whom is also the fiancé of Gina's brother. It wasn't really all that clear weather or not the slut girlfriend would be there or not, but what did it matter to us? It was Kyra and Matt's place. They were just crashing on account of Chris being homeless (again) and the girlfriend, (her name is Malissa, "with an A") just following him around uselessly.

So we get there, and Malissa is just chillaxing on the couch like a bum. We follow Kyra into the apartment to check out the new digs, and see her rather enormous closet considering the tiny space. Gina then tells Kyra that she wants to talk to her about "stuff and things" and since the TV in Kyra's room is still boxed up, I decide to be good-natured and watch a Repo show with her while the girls talk things out.

I am going to stretch the good-natured thing to the max.

I pop a squat on the futon, and pleasantly ask, "What are we watching?"

"Are we seriously gonna do this?" Not really an answer, so I won't play along.

"Watch TV together? I think so." I smile, but it's really more sarcastic than sweet.

"Get up."

"Up?" I look at her, cock my head a little and really give her a maniac grin.

"Get up! I am serious!" Her face gets a little red, which makes me grin harder.

"Or what?" I ask. All sparkling eyes and charm for little bitches.

"I said get up!"

"What are you gonna do?" More head cocking to the side, and I am grinding my teeth I am smiling so hard.

"You have to the count of five." I can't help it, I giggle.

"Five? That is so little numbers!"

"Get up!"

"I am on four now, right?" I hold up my left hand, starting the countdown.

"Get up!" She is all glares and malevolence by now.

"Three..." I tick down my fingers, "Two..." I drop my last finger, "One! Yay! One! What does that mean? You are upposed to go something right? Something is about to happen? What? You aren't doing anything! Do something! One, one, ONE!" I squeal with glee when she finally gets up. It takes a good deal of huffing and puffing, and I am concerned she could blow the house down.

Then she does the ultimate faux pas: she grabs my wrists. I learned a long time ago to never let anyone think they are gonna man-handle me.

I gently break her grasp with a simple karate move Alex showed me years ago.

"Don't touch me," I say, using my you're a bad dog voice. She just goes back at it again. 

I break her grasp again, this time more firmly, and say as calmly as possible, "Don't touch me."

She goes in for a third grab with her right hand, and either does the same with her left, or is trying to go for a punch. Either way, I grab her left hand that is slightly balled, and squeeze with a little force. Her thumbs pops. But because her right hand is grabbed onto my left arm, and it is for sure the weaker of the two, I dont break her grasp immediately.

In a move Alex would have been proud of, I roll back slightly, put my right foot against her thigh and push with the same force I use on my kitten. She seems shocked that I am in full control of my body. Maybe Chris told her I was a paraplegic. She drops my hand and backs up.

"You kicked my stomach!" She squeals like a gutted pig.

I raise my eyebrow. "I didn't know your stomach was located in your thigh." I poke her thigh pointedly. "Of course it is fatty enough."

"I am calling the cops!"

My eyebrow is still raised, "Call them. I have dealt with many cops in my day. They all like how I tell the truth." She just storms out of the apartment in a huff. I shrug, because I still haven't done anything wrong. Not only did I not start it, but I didn't hurt her in anyway. I had light pink rings forming on my wrists, but what did I care about a little ouchie.

Kyra started freaking out when she heard that the cops had been called and began hyperventilating. I read somethings about their church's funding. I heard the front door slam open then shut, and very heavy footfalls run into the bathroom. I smiled, since Chris had told me how hard it was to make Malissa cry. Apparently not.

She left the bathroom to go back outside and talk to the cops. Finally Gina lead them upstairs to meet me. I smiled kindly, because I seriously had talked to cops a lot. Then I reiterated the true story. The dudes looked at me, all tall and scrawny with my skinny arms and skinny legs and decided I wasn't a threat in the slightest, especially to not such a rotund girl like Malissa.

They informed her there was nothing they could do. She didn't have any marks, while I did. If anyone should be pressing charges, it was me. Of course, I didn't really care to do anything that irrational. They informed me she was pressing charges. I smiled and said okay. Then the officers told me and Gina we had to leave, so we grabbed our stuff and hopped in our cars. No big deal to me. They didn't even know my name.

Chris decided to send me something akin to a death threat via text. I told him I didn't kick his girlfriend in the stomach, but of course I had to be facetious and add in that "Unless your girlfriend had her stomach and uterus in her thigh," I definitely didn't kick her there. Of course, maybe she really does have different anatomy. I never met someone who literally had stomach fat that slugged off of her.

I also decided to add in that he could come hit me if he wanted to. "You know where I live," I explained. "If you believe her, you'd do it."

Of course, I don't see Chris anywhere. He is too much of a pussy to do something.

The Kitten

So, there was a stray cat living outside my apartment that I noticed about two months ago. I am normally not a cat person, but I felt sad for her. She was so little and stray cat like, I took it upon myself to start feeding her. She ate all the food and water I left out for her, but I didn't really ever see her. I wasn't really worried though.

Then I went for a little weekend vacation, (story to come later), floating down a river. And when I got back, my neighbor had taken it upon herself to continue feeding the cat in my absence. At first I was happy that the cat hadn't gone hungry while I was away for four days, but I assumed she had been able to catch her own food since she was alive before I had started feeding her.

Well, after I explained to my neighbor that I was the guilty party member who was feeding the stray cat, she told me how the cat had become friendly. I was happy, because that meant she was a nice cat. But then my neighbor also informed me that she was going to take the cat to the pound if someone didn't do something.

I am allergic to cats.

But I am weak at the thought of a kitten being put to sleep because of the simple problem of overcrowding at shelters, so I quickly volunteered my home.

"Oh good, she really does want a forever home." She seemed happy with having found a place to put the kitten. I was left chewing my lip.

My neighbor helped me get the kitten into a crate, and I made an appointment with the vet at the humane society to get her checked out. I put her in the car, drove her down there, and proceeded to wait. The vet techs finally came out to collect the stray kitten and me.

The vet techs checked her out for feline leukemia and pregnancy, weighed her, (six pounds, eight ounces) then called the vet in. She explained how my new family member, (who was clean of both afflictions), would need her kitten vaccines since she was six to eight months old. In total, after the second round, she would be costing me two hundred dollars. I sighed inwardly, but I couldn't just leave her there to die.

The poor kitten was shaking like a twig during a tornado, anyways.

So she got her distemper, rabies, and leukemia vaccines, plus a flea and tick treatment and a deworming. Then she crawled back into her crate, defeated. I paid the front desk and left with the little calico.

I stopped by Petsmart and bought her some necessary things like a scratching post, little box, collar, water dispenser, food dish, and most importantly kitten food. Then I took her inside my apartment for the first time. She mewed at me, and after setting up food, water, and litter box, I let her out, slipping on her black collar.

She crawled under my futon and stayed there all day and night.

She finally started coming out and inspecting her new home. I encouraged her to use the scratching post, and was very relieved to see she knew exactly how to use the litter box.

She even started coming up to me. And since last Tuesday, (as I have only had her a week) she has started coming when called, goes where I tell her, and eats pretty much everything, including waffles.

And while I am allergic to cats, I have invested money into allergy medication, and have plans to get allergy shots.

I named her Elsa, but I call her Elsie most of the time.