Yesterday Bea didn't eat very much at all on her own. So I broke down and force-fed her. Probably more for my own piece of mind than necessity. It wasn't too terrible actually. When we stuck with the Friskies she was semi-okay with it. When I tried switching over to the Wellness lamb stew... gag-a-maggot. More like gag-a-Janet-John-and-Bea. Anyway, this morning Bea ate on her own! And quite a few bites. Plus, she's acting fine. Her normal pissy self with a few incidences of decency. Sort of like yours truly.
John and I were oohing and cooing over Bea yesterday when I noticed a flying bug stuck to the ceiling. One of those black cricket things with little sucker feets. "John," I said. "There's a black bug with sucker feet on the ceiling." John looked at the bug, squinted and shrugged his big shoulders. "He can stay. I got no beef with him." Reason one billion and forty-two why I love him.