Our troubled orange tabby, Penn, has been dealing with anxiety issues ever since we joined the two kingdoms. He manifests his insecurities by attacking pretty much every other cat in the house, saving his special love for Geneva, the female. So we’ve had him on medication since before the wedding, and trapped in the rear atrium room away from the other cats. The first medication he was put on was Diazo-trypto something, and it made him very stoney for the first two days, then reduced his white-hot anger to a dull crank. He was mellower but still itching to bite Geneva whenever he could. With a change in doctors, a checkup, and a new prescription, we thought things might turn around for the guy. He was lonely and sad in his little castle, scratching at the window and making pitiful requests for love. The second meds (Ela-something) did nothing but dull his senses for three seconds—he burned through that stuff like a Twinkie on a hot day, and seemed more eager than ever to get into some ass-whuppin’. Today I picked up the third prescription for the little terror (he reached out and clawed the face of our new cat doctor on his first visit, the only time I’ve ever seen him attack a human)—the big gun, Prozac. Thankfully it’s generic, it’s a smaller dose, and it’s not harmful to the liver like kitty Valium, which is our last and final resort. So say a prayer tonight for Mr. Penn, and let’s all hope he calms the hell down.

Nice. This is a beautiful series of maps drawn to illustrate how misleading some of those election result maps were when they flashed them onscreen last week. I’m sure Tufte could get a whole new lecture series out of this subject, like PowerPoint.

Happiness Is. My wife calling me out of the blue to tell me she loves me.

Sadness Is. The “Check Engine” light on the Jeep lighting up this morning.