Glass half full. With 10th coffee.

Last Monday I found a kitten at work. He was cold and hungry, I couldn’t bring myself to leave him there. He was about 3 weeks old and weighed 250 grams.

Brought him home, woke up in the middle of the night to feed him. All well until I noticed blood in his stool.

Took him to the vet, told them all about it, he lost 30 grams in 2 days. He tested positive for panleukopenia. He was hypothermic, all the way down to 32 degrees. The vet told me we’ll talk on the phone if he makes it past the night. I woke up every 2 hours in fear I will not find him alive anymore. Four days of intensive care at home, warm bottles, subcutaneous hydration injections, he is now past the critical moment of the illness.

He’s incredibly playful, eats well, and just wants to explore more and more. I was planning to bring him up and then put him up for adoption, but considering all the effort I went through with him, that is not an option anymore.

You catch them offguard.

So I’m at the beach in Santorini, just enjoying the sun, and there’s this dude going to the people on the beach and picking up their orders.

Me: Hi, can I order something please?

Him: Of course. Where are you from?

Me: Romania.

Him: Oh, I love Romania.

Me: What a coincidence, I love Greece.

Him: No, I mean I love Romanian girls!

Me: What a coincidence, me too!

The look on his face was absolutely priceless and I now pronounce myself a bad bitch.