I've spent an entire afternoon in my kitchen. It feels like it's the first time it's been this tidy in ages. I think all homes associated with farms should be given housekeepers, by default. Farming means extra, extra dirt, and there's never any time, and I'm one of those folks who put tidyness at the top of their priority list; I just don't do well in clutter, or with a sink full of dirty dishes. But last night. Last night we needed to keep our hands busy. So when we finally made it home from the hop grower and craft brewer picnic we spent the second part of the afternoon at, at 9:30, and before dinner, we went at it.

We went at it because the first half of the afternoon was spent at the vet, with Silas, who had in the course of a few hours lost the ability to walk. Kidney stones. His bladder was the size of your fist and his temperature was so low it wouldn't register. They told us the anesthetic alone could kill him. And then they said if they were going to operate, they needed to do it right then. I bawled like a six year old and told them to do it. And then we had to wait. He was critical and needed to make it through 24 hours before they could give us good news.

Animal hospitals are funny, because you can't stay and hold vigil like you might be inclined to, crazy as you know that makes you seem. So we went to the grower/brewer event we were scheduled to attend, and half met all sorts of people we should know. And felt like throwing up every time the phone vibrated.

But this morning. This morning they told us his temp was back up. This morning they told us we can have him back on Tuesday. And so this morning I slowly celebrated with cinnamon toast and endless cups of coffee in my clean kitchen. I get my kitty back on Tuesday. It's a happy day.

And that, folks, is how you write an entire post about your pet. I am now officially one of those people. I can live with it.