A Little Background

  So, we're unhoused.  Three people, all with disabilities, and 3 cats + a guest cat we are hosting for another, dear, unhoused person for whom that cat is his best bud.

It's kind of a long story how it happened.  There's lots of blame to go around, in my deeply humble opinion.

The important parts are I fell on the ice, joggled my brain, broke my nose, and fucked my shit up.

Then we got COVID, and two of us ended up with long COVID and all its attendant extreme fatigue and brain fog.

We lost PCA care, not because we were no longer eligible, but because COVID changed the landscape for anyone needing home health care.  We went without for 4 years.  Ironically, we got our first stable PCA staff after we were homeless, staying in an airbnb we could only afford because we had help.

The price of food skyrocketed.  Due to TBI and brainfog I flubbed paperwork entirely, and we lost our section 8.  The youngest, Joe, got on SSI, but our SNAP dropped from $600 during COVID to $61, and our rent, due to the loss of section 8, went up $1000.  We couldn't afford food and to pay full rent for about a year - some months we made it, some we did not.  We ended up too far behind to catch up without help.

The county told us they couldn't help us because the rent was too high for us.  Like, duh, I appreciate that completely mind blowing new information.

Several charities did not get back to us in time.

We lost our home of ten years.

So this month, we're camping.  I was able to find someplace with space for us for a month, spent our money on that and camping supplies like a tent, a couple airbeds, spatulas because God knows where I packed mine away, stored in a friend's garage until we're housed again.  A dear friend bought Aaron his double height airbed, since he uses a wheelchair and it would not only be very hard for him to get up from a regular airbed, it would be really hard for me and Joe to lift him up from the floor.  Other dear friends sent money, or lanterns and cooling towels, an airbed patch kit, etc.

So there's me here, age 50something.  I'd have to do math to be exact.  Early mid fifties?  Multiple disabilities, including POTS and Ehlers Danlos.  Oh, and the TBI(s), of course.  I'd say I can't forget those but, you know, TBIs.  I can forget anything.

My eldest is Aaron, the Gremlin. 33,  Neurodegenerative disease, cognitive disabilities, SASS - which is not a disability, it is his attitude, Ehlers Danlos, a hot pink wheelchair (with sparkles).  He is our most hetero family member, btw, he just really loves pink.

Joe is my youngest.  23, long COVID, Ehler's Danlos, schizophrenic spectrum, autism, dry, dry, dry sense of humor, the most grown up of all of us, really.

Aaron's cat is Ser Pounce-a-Lot, 2 years old, giant floof of a dilute calico.  Everyone says their cat might be part Maine Coon, but she honestly might be - or Norwegian Forest cat.  She is enormous.  She refuses to make cat noises.  We have heard her bark, quack, make steam engine noises, teapot noises, and an odd "Wee-EE!  wee-EE!" when hungry, which sounds very birdlike.  She gets very nervous if you ask her if she's a fairy in disguise, so she must not be one. 

Joey has two cats, Scrunt and Spaghetti.  Scrunt is 17, a light colored calico but not as dilute as Pounce. She is an absolute tank potato, round, heavily muscled, devoted to Joe, and a nurse cat- if you are ill, she will not leave your side.  Spaghetti is a year old, black and white with huge gold eyes, and a perfect Mario Bros mustache beneath her nose.  She has the worst temper I've ever seen on a cat, though she won't cause damage, she will throw impressive tantrums.  

Duchess is our guest cat.  Sleek and Guiness black with pale jade eyes, she is shy and loving to people but pretty much hates all the other cats here.  She'll get used to it, or her person will reclaim her and she will breathe a huge sigh of relief.

I guess that's all the exposition.  Aaron needs attention, so we'll get back in a bit.