Jan Hetherington

@babybeginner Wow …

DRAMA!!! You wouldn’t know it from this picture but Bruiser and I had a drama filled morning!! Charlie snuck outside and Bruiser was so upset! I tried to grab Charlie and got scratched between them. Bruiser was telling Charlie that it is Bruiser’s backyard! Charlie ran from Bruiser and then I had to run after Charlie. Eventually, I managed to get him but I couldn’t bring him back in the back door. So I went around to the garage. I managed to get Charlie in the garage and that freaked him out! Remember when he got trapped in the garage which is how we first found Charlie? Well, I don’t think Charlie knew that THAT garage was attached to our house. As soon as he got in there he ran away from me and hid under the cars and cried and cried!! I finally managed to get him back inside. Poor baby must have ptsd from that garage! It’s been a lot of drama!

@glmlewis @weskrantz Our nearly 8 year old (had since 6 months old) STILL plays hide & seek with a small soft toy beaver, which he’ll bring to us & announce with a very special miaow!

@weskrantz I think it is so interesting that pink rat and thongs have remained his favorite things since kittenhood. Never have known a cat to have such attachments.

he likes to take his favourite pink rat onto the cat wall

@weskrantz He’s still playing with it???

@feederofcats You are both the luckiest girls!!

One year with my girl 🩷 I hate the circumstances that brought us together but I am the luckiest girl in the world to be her person. I'd go through hell with you all over again, tonton. I'm so glad you're here 🩷

@Microinteracti1 @WendellPierce Somehow I knew he would say ‘good’ before I even read that he had. What a most singularly disgusting piece of human garbage that ever (dis)graced this country.

Robert Mueller died last night. He was 81 years old. He had a wife who loved him for sixty years. He had two daughters, one of whom he met for the first time in Hawaii, in 1969, on a few hours of military leave, before he got back on the plane and returned to Vietnam. He had grandchildren. He had a faith he practiced quietly, without performance. He had, in the way of men who have seen real things and survived them, a quality that is increasingly rare and increasingly mocked in the country he spent his life serving. He had integrity. And tonight the President of the United States said good! I have been sitting with that word for hours now. Good. One syllable. The thing you say when the coffee is hot or the traffic is moving. The thing a man who has never had to bury anyone, never had to sit in the specific silence of a room where someone is newly absent, reaches for when he wants the world to know he is satisfied. Good. The daughters are crying and the wife is alone in the house and good. I want to speak directly to the Americans reading this. Not the political Americans. Just the human ones. The ones who have lost a father. The ones who know what it is to be in that first hour, when you keep forgetting and then remembering again, when ordinary objects become unbearable, when the world outside the window seems obscene in its indifference. I want to ask you, simply, to hold that feeling for a moment, and then to understand that the man you elected looked at it and typed a single word. Good. This is not a country having a bad day. I need you to understand that. Countries have bad days. Elections go wrong. Leaders disappoint. Institutions bend. But there is a different thing, a rarer and more terrible thing, that happens when the moral center of a place simply gives way. Not dramatically. Not with a single catastrophic event. But quietly, in increments, until one evening a president celebrates the death of an old man whose family is still warm with grief, and enough people find it acceptable that it becomes the weather. Just the weather. That is what is happening. That is what has happened. The world knows. From Tokyo to Oslo, from London to Buenos Aires, people are not angry at America tonight. Anger would mean there was still something to fight for, some remaining faith to be betrayed. What I see, in the reactions from everywhere that is not here, is something older and sadder than anger. It is the look people get when they have waited a long time for someone they love to find their way back, and have finally understood that they are not coming. America is being grieved. Past tense, almost. The idea of it. The thing it represented to people who had nothing else to believe in, who came here with everything they owned in a single bag because they had heard, somehow, across an ocean, that this was the place where decency was written into the walls. That idea is not resting. It is not suspended. It is being buried, in real time, with 7,450 likes before dinner. And the church said nothing. Seventy million people have decided that this man, this specific man who has cheated everyone he has ever made a promise to, who has mocked the disabled and the dead and the grieving, who celebrated tonight while a family wept, is an instrument of God. The pastors who made that bargain did not just trade away their credibility. They traded away the thing that made them worth listening to in the first place. The cross they carry now is a costume. The faith they preach is a loyalty oath with scripture attached. When the history of American Christianity is written, this will be the chapter they skip at seminary. Now I want to talk about the men who stand next to him. Because this is the part that actually breaks my heart. JD Vance is not a bad man. I have to say that, because it is true, and because the truth matters even now, especially now. Marco Rubio is not a bad man. Lindsey Graham is not a bad man. They are idiots, but not bad, as in BAD! These are men with mothers who raised them and children who love them and friends who remember who they were before all of this. They are not monsters. Monsters are simple. Monsters do not cost you anything emotionally because there is nothing in them to mourn. These men are something more painful than monsters. They are men who knew better, and know better still, and will get up tomorrow and do it again. Every small compromise they made had a reason. Every moment they looked the other way had a justification that sounded, at the time, almost reasonable. And now they have arrived here, at a place where a president celebrates the death of an old man and they will find a way, on television, to say nothing that means anything, and they will go home to houses where children who carry their name are waiting, and they will say goodnight, and they will say nothing. Their oldest friends are watching. The ones who knew Rubio when he still believed in something. Who knew Graham when he said, out loud, on the record, that this exact man would destroy the Republican Party and deserve it. Who sat next to Vance and thought here is someone worth knowing. Those friends are not angry tonight. They moved through anger a long time ago. What they feel now is the quiet, irrecoverable sadness of watching someone disappear while still being present. Of watching a person they loved choose, again and again, to become less. That is what cowardice costs. Not the coward. The people who loved him. And in the comments tonight, the followers celebrate. People who ten years ago brought casseroles to grieving neighbours. Who stood in the rain at gravesides and meant the words they said. Who told their children that we do not speak ill of the dead because the dead were someone's beloved. Those people are tonight typing gleeful things about a man whose daughters are not yet done crying. And they feel clean doing it. Righteous. Because somewhere along the way the thing they were given in exchange for their decency was the feeling of belonging to something, and that feeling is very hard to give up even when you can no longer remember what you gave for it. When Trump is gone, they will still be here. Standing in the silence where the noise used to be. Without the permission the crowd gave them. Without the pastor who told them their cruelty was holy. They will be alone with what they said and what they cheered and what they chose to become, and there will be no one left to tell them it was righteous. That morning is coming. Robert Mueller flew across the Pacific on military leave to hold his newborn daughter for a few hours before returning to the war. He came home. He buried his dead with honour. He served presidents of both parties because he understood that the institution was larger than any one man. He told his grandchildren that a lie is the worst thing a person can do, that a reputation once lost cannot be recovered, and he lived that, every day, in the quiet and unglamorous way of people who actually believe what they say. He was the kind of American the world used to point to when it needed to believe the story was true. He died last night. His wife is alone in their house in Georgetown. His daughters are learning what the world is without him in it. And somewhere in the particular hush that falls over a family in the first hours of loss, the most powerful man and the biggest loser on earth sent a message to say he was glad. The world that loved what America was supposed to be is grieving tonight. Not for Robert Mueller only. For the country that produced him and then became this. For the distance between what was promised and what was delivered. For the suspicion, growing quieter and more certain with each passing month, that the America people believed in was always partly a story, and the story is over now, and there is nothing yet to replace it. That is all it needed to be. A man died. His family is broken open with grief. That is all it needed to be. Instead the President said good. And the country that once stood for something looked away 🇺🇸 Gandalv / @Microinteracti1

@weskrantz Bag time, I see!

good morning

@feederofcats I adore Dweeb, no matter how he looks!

Dweeb wants to know if everyone will still love him while he looks very ridiculous for a minute

@weskrantz He clearly needs more sleep …..

he’s in his favourite sleeping tunnel

@feederofcats @MRHWCats Good luck to this very fine kitty. He deserves everything good!!

Dweeb is out of surgery! 😅 They were able to get plates on both sides of his jaw! It was a very long and intricate surgery, his blood pressure got a little dicey during it so they're keeping him overnight to monitor. I get to pick him up in the morning 🥹

@PennLily03 @sandibachom thehill.com/homenews/admin…

@sandibachom Sorry Sandi - looked elsewhere and couldn't find the reference? What is happening?

Schadenfreude. EVERYBODY is turning on Jared now the cat is out of the bag

@weskrantz Every bed-maker needs a cat.

reporting for duty

@saniyafatma1278 Grow lots of plants, especially vines!

I seriously need some help here. My neighbor just put up this massive metal fence right along our property line and I’m honestly pretty upset about it. It completely changed the whole feel of my driveway and now it looks like I’m pulling into some kind of industrial corridor. I had no idea this was even happening until the thing was already built. It feels like my space just got boxed in overnight. What on earth can I do in a situation like this???

@_TruthZone_ Oh for crying out loud.

How is this possible????? 😳

@davidsupercat MooMoo wearing him out??

Such a tired boy! #orangejim

@ChicoSexProf @feederofcats Yep - UC Davis is definitely the place to be!

@feederofcats Wanted to say that the Dental Team at Davis is top notch! We rescued a pup who had a broken jaw & needed extensive reconstructive surgery to repair her jaw. They were AMAZING! They made a 3D print of her skull so they could practice the surgery beforehand & it went smoothly!

Dweeb update/more info - The issue with Dweeb’s broken face is that there are several very misplaced jaw fractures, fractures close to the TMJ, splintered bone, and infection that ate away at the bone. It’s not a simple broken jaw that they can suture/wire/button and it’ll heal

@Dazmac1882 Learnt them as CAJACC - & divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived.

I know Henry VIII had 6 wives - There was Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, Anne of Cleves, Catherine Howard, Catherine Parr but I can't for the life of me remember the surname of the one called Jane....See More

@Dazmac1882 Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

@weskrantz I think it was good (though ridiculously hot right now), but my 2 have a different perspective!

good morning

@1ssve So relieved I’m not alone!

apple there has to be a better way to add an iPhone app to a folder than chasing said folder round the screen as it carries out fighter jet level evasive manoeuvres

@OneNerdyOpinion I feel the same way when I wake up from my pre-bed nap.

Dandy just woke up from her post-nap, pre-bedtime siesta and she is a bit drowsy.