more baby steps and feline philosophy

Things are going better. It's a matter of baby steps. I take a couple of steps forward and plop! As I land on my fat bottom.

Right now I have started with a new pdoc, the 6th one I have seen since November. I am counting the docs I saw in the hospital, inpatient and out in this tally. I really like the new pdoc, she is probably a few years older than me, but I haven't had that kind of rapport with any doc since my first pdoc, who was the best pdoc I ever saw.

I start with a new therapist on Monday at 10. She sounds nice. We have spoken a bit on the phone and she seems really caring, and she said she wanted me as a client. 

Holly is doing much better, but she doesn't want to drink her water as much as she use to. She is still drinking a lot, but she moves the water dish away from the food bowl, which is unusual behavior for her. I just got a postcard in the mail from her vet that all her shots are due in February. Poor girl. I hate taking her to the vet for these shots. Not because getting her in the carrier can be an ordeal, not because she throws up in the car. But because I feel guilty and sad when I see the needles go in her fuzzy bottom and she meows in pain. 

I am trying to get out of my head. The new doc lowered the dose of Seroquel and Geodon (Yeah)and I feel, well, sadder than I was earlier this week. The Seroquel was also making me eat too much and I put back on 5 pounds from the 35 I just lost. 

This time the recovery is so hard. It was like a cakewalk when I stopped drinking. 

I decided if I had to take myself out of my head and this dark place I was going to, I needed to do some volunteer work. Yesterday I was at the animal shelter, the one where I got my baby girl. They had an open adoption day and it was fun to be with the animals. 

One of the puppies, a Golden Lab baby had to go. I got to put a leash on him and walk him. I love dogs, but I really like Golden Labs. When the toilet paper commercial comes on that features the Golden Lab puppy,I drop everything I am doing to look at that beautiful creature. 

There was a litter of kittens. One got adopted, the rest went back for next week, along with the dogs and two beautiful adult cats. I wanted to take the kittens and cats home with me. I never had a kitten. Cleo was about 8 months old when I adopted her. Holly was 3 years old. 

When I was married about a year, hubby wanted a kitten. The vet I use had a whole cat family up for adoption, six kittens with the same mom. We found one in that litter, a black and white spotted one with long hair and beautiful green eyes. His name was Colby, his brother and sisters were all named after cheese. We took Colby into a private room at the vet's, and opened up the carrier containing Holly.  Colby was enjoying stretching his little legs, sniffing around, and trying to climb up hubby's long legs. He saw Holly and went over to say "Hello" to her. She swiped him and threw the biggest temper tantrum. Then she tried to attack him.

 Colby was handed back to the vet and placed back in the window with his brothers and sisters. The vet told me he found a very good home a few weeks later.

I felt bummed out. Holly doesn't like other cats. They told me that when I adopted her. She has to be an only cat.

It would have been nice to share my love with 2 fur babies.

Today, Sunday I am volunteering in the battered women's shelter.

I am familiar with them. I stayed there a few times when I was homeless. It should be a good experience for me, and humble me. It should ground me again, like it did before.  And help me take another baby step forward. 

And isn't that all what it's about? Baby steps til you can walk by yourself?