Would you pick up this cat and put him into a bag?  As part of our morning ritual, Stretch “snakes” me hoping that I won’t see him or that I will be too intimidated to pick him up. When I start to pick him up he growls at me, and sometimes hisses at me, but it’s all to no avail since I pick him up anyway and we zip him up in a kitty bag to give him his daily subcutaneous fluids to treat his renal failure.  Since it’s cooled down over the last couple of weeks, he’s looking much better, is way sassier and harder to handle.  But as much as he hates the daily “waterboarding”, I think he knows, as much as a cat can understand things like this, that it helps him to feel better.

When it comes to letting the cat out of the bag, Laurie told the choir director that I play guitar. Laurie is going to sing in the choir for their production of Handel’s Messiah. In trying to get me to join in on the Messiah, she told the choir director I had sung in other choirs (I faked it) and that I am a musician (it’s all hard work and determination, no real musical talent).  The problem is I haven’t played guitar in over two years, and since my fingertips are still numb from chemo, I’m not sure I can play very well.  My one saving grace is my camera — the director of operations at the church apparently told the choir director to “leave me be Sam I am” because she needs me to photograph the ongoings at the church. A photographer “I am, Sam I am”, I singer I’m NOT!