David is back in L.A.; he sent us each a postcard — sounds like he had a really good time.

Couple of bad days with Salty. She threw up at least twice yesterday and once last night. But her wound looks better. She’s just sort of laying around today. I put some food near her after Jen flushed the wound. She hadn’t eaten it, and when I went to check on her, the dish was covered with ants. (They are all over the house every time it gets cooler out. Ugh!)

Jen went to Daytona to pick up Mom because we were afraid to leave Salty alone. I hope it works out with Mom here. With all the stuff Susan and I have been talking about, it’s pretty scary. I feel so guilty — have ever since Horseman. Am I a total rat? Am I forgetting times when I felt loved as a kid? I don’t even know, but I think I can say pretty definitely that I have never felt safe in my life, and I honestly don’t ever remember feeling cherished. No wonder I have problems accepting love … But is it me or the way I was raised? I don’t want to blame anyone else if it’s really something inside me. And, if it is, where the heck would it have come from except from my earliest years?
Kathleen A. Gagne