Peace

I'm sitting here in my blue chenille robe, the one that zips up to the neck, in my bright red recliner, with my mini-Maine coon cat on my chest, low enough so that I can see over her royal fluffiness. The sun is shining brightly outside, probably because it's about 20 degrees, and it's another day, another dollar. Every now and then I stop and rub Pooska's head (my daughter named her -- she just showed up at our house one day and she's been with us ever since, along with Phantom, who arrived about eight years later and was lured inside with cheese. Did I mention we're a sucker for cats? We also have Cello, also known as Tubster, Meatwad, and other genial insults. It's not our fault he's so fat. We inherited him from my former brother-in-law, and he's a mellow, slightly OCD, bright orange cat not unlike Garfield, though less pugnacious.
Rosie, our English Springer Spaniel, is lying in the sunlight at my feet, calm for the moment (she's extremely neurotic, and we can't figure out why). When you've got your animals around you, including one planted on your chest, purring against your heart, then things can never look that bad.
I'm dealing with depression right now, for a variety of reasons (career, financial, my aging mother, my complicated children) and I have to say, the absolute best cure for it is having a cat or dog curl up with you and keep you company. Better than gorging on chocolate any day.

What's your cure for the blues? Got any ideas that aren't unhealthy, like compulsive shopping (never good when your worries are financial) or overeating or drinking? I could use all the help I can get.