Pgh Lesbian Correspondents

This past week, I blogged about Nazis, a pet food pantry, and a loving tribute to a feral cat named Tommy. I wrote about the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette strike, posted a round up of Toys for Tots programs in 26 counties and shared some thoughts about my birthday.

I also took two cats to the vet and (finally) got them on the Prozac they needed over a year ago. And that just made me angry. I had to have three appointments with the vet to make this happen, then beg a ride to the pharmacy where I ran into some old friends who did not know about my experienced being 302’d locked out of home and homeless for 196 days, or trying to bounce back.

I told them about someone who I call “Sneaky Sue” creeping into my house while I was sick in bed with a serious illness and trapping my cats. She stole my cats from my house while I was incapacitated. I don’t known if she had anything to do with the rest of what went on.

I do know she’s never apologized for her shifty deceit. She’s never even acknowledged it. She’s just living her life with her own disabled wife, confident no one would ever treat them that way. She’s probably right because it takes a person without a conscience or a soul to do such a thing to a sick woman or even a helpless cat.

I don’t want to think about “Sneaky Sue” again, but she keeps popping up in my life. I’m hoping to expel her from my mind by writing this post. I have to think about the white supremacists doxxing me, not a sad old woman who can’t hurt me again. Wondering how it feels to come in just below the Nazis in terms of foul turpitude.

She stole my cat, I got him back. She tried to steal others, I stopped her. She contributed to stealing 196 days of my life. She’s had 408 days to apologize and right her wrong. That’s the least act of repentance she could do. She won’t.

I won’t let her steal my recovery momentum. I won’t mention her role in my story again. It isn’t vital. It is just vile.