First, I want to thank everyone for all the sympathy messages about our losing little Ola. They meant a lot to me. I’m doing okay, as long as I don’t think too much about him (or look at any pictures — I’ve got to post now if for no other reason than to move those photos down from where I have to see them every time I look at my page). The kids are okay, too. Tage keeps telling me, downright cheerfully, “Kitty Ola is dead,” not understanding, of course, the finality of it. Lydia is pretty sad, but she’s already tried to talk me into getting another cat (one that stays inside, she says), but I’m not going for it. The other cats and the dogs haven’t really seemed to notice, and I’m usually pretty sensitive to their moods. I think the fact that he’d been gone for so long before we got the bad news worked to lessen our shock and upset.

One thing I’ve decided is that I’m never getting another black cat. Ola was the second one I’ve had, and he was the second one to get killed by a car at a very young age. It’s just too much for me.

Right now we’re gearing up for Petra’s big birthday bash on Wednesday. We’ve got her presents and bought her a new dress, and party decorations are in the works. Tomorrow we clean (“Will you stop talking about that?!” Lydia moans.), and the next day I whip up some tasty desserts to serve our guests. It doesn’t sound like much when I type out those few short lines, but I’m already tired just thinking about it, and this is only the beginning. Tage’s birthday is three-and-a-half weeks away, then Lydia’s less than three weeks after that. I’m considering taking a leave of absence and just letting Olof deal with all of it.