Eugene O’Neil‘s Long Day’s Journey Into Night has nothing on the raging feline tempest caused by yesterday’s arrival of Jazz, an 11 week-old ragdoll. You can cut the hostility with a butter knife. Mouse, my obese Siamese otherwise known as “Fatty”, is seething with resentment. He’s done nothing but snarl and sulk and give me death-ray looks. Even Aura, the alpha-vibed white munchkin, is hissing at Jazz and she never gets angry at anyone. I don’t have a logical reason for bringing Jazz home. I knew it wasn’t the smart thing to do, but I did it anyway.
Friday, 6.27 pm, 7:20 pm.
“I’d change her sad rags into glad rags if I could…”
