Click was sick for a long time. The Secret Lair smells like a crazy cat lady’s apartment, and while I’m working on it I’m not sure there’s enough baking soda in the world to completely remove the stench. It certainly hasn’t been removed yet. There’s no practical reason to miss her, frankly. I hope I can undo the damage she did without actually pulling up the floor.
I liked Click, and I admired her. She handled the dangers of her environment intelligently, and intelligence is frankly not a real common trait in cats. She dealt well with the dogs; even Ghost accepted her. She was crippled and in pain, wasn’t going to get anything but worse, and it was time to do what I did. But doing it has really depressed me.
I have gathered everything (I think) I need to replace/expand the chickens’ enclosure, a short weather window to get it done, and I should have gotten a lot more work done today than I did. The chickens are a mess. They’re stressing out and need more room. I need to get out of this funk and do my job.
Speaking of that: You know what this is?
It’s a fencepost driver. Weighs a little less than 20 pounds. It’s hollow. You slide it over a T-rail, grab the handles, and bang the rail into the ground with it. Works great, while also providing excellent cardio exercise. What I didn’t know about it until today is that a mouse might also consider it a fine place to build a nest. Unfortunately, the mouse did not see fit to exit the driver when I picked it up and started to use it. The result was…gruesome.
Normally I don’t consider it a bad thing when a mouse leaves the world, however violently. But somehow accidentally killing this one upset me even more. I’ve got to shake off this mood. Alcohol isn’t doing anything but making me more morose. And now this urine stink is really getting on my nerves, when it barely bothered me while Click was still alive.