Bagheera ... my boy.

So the bad night is over. I knew it would be bad, I just didn't bank on it being so bad. It could have been worse. I could have been all alone. As it was I think I also wrecked the Mister's night seeing I woke him up at least ten times for the nebulizer/oxygen thing. But he's not saying anything. I am in a total mess. I sit here on my bed under the duvet, with a blanket over my shoulders. I guess I should be sleeping, but I have to write. The fever is not as bad as yesterday, maybe those little soldiers are fighting the infection. I like to think that they're not male soldiers in camouflage, but pretty females in tiny skirts and heels with witch they pierce the infected soldiers to death. Just what I think, I probably haven't graduated much since my cartoon days. Dad has been again. And I've warned him to keep away following his op last Monday. But I don't think he cares, about the fever I mean, not about me. He cares about this old girl all right, he wouldn't be going for walkies all these times a day if he weren't. He has also been amazed by my Bagheera cat. He thinks it's a beautiful cat, and he is also amazed that this cat doesn't leave my side. I don't know why. All I know is that I have never found an answer as to why this cat got thrown out of a speeding car in the middle of the night. It was meant to be, I never usually pop out to take a look at the street before closing the door at night. Turned out I did, and saw this cruel act. So I figured if he was thrown out, then I'd let him in. A black cat in the black night. It's been one and a half years now, and this cat is the most silky, adorable cat. His behaviour is so sweet and funny, he is lonely because the other cats dislike him a lot. So he has us, he's like my boy. But I still don't feel right. And I'm hiding the mirrors. I look dreadful. Now where's that Diva got to?