So we have these two Cats, Gracie and Moosie. We saved them as feral kittens about a year and a half ago. It took no small amount of cajoling, debating, and, heck, lets call a spade a spade, PLEADING with my husband, Troy, to get him on board with rescuing these kittens. Oh, he had good, sound, logical arguments as to why we shouldn’t adopt them, but those landed on the deaf, bleeding hearts of a 7 year old, a 9 year old, and a 42 year old. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: God Bless Poor Troy.
There were several more kittens who needed to be rescued, but we agreed to only take the two the kids picked. And, being my bleeding hearted kids, they chose what appeared to be the most retarded one, complete with Marty Feldman Wonky Eyes, and the biggest, most energetic, psychotic one.
At that point, even I had misgivings.
So, we adopt these critters, and they immediately require like, $400.00 worth of Vet bills to get them cleaned up, de-wormed, de-fleaed, de-ticked, de-intestinal parasited that causes bloody diarrhea. (that’s the medical term.) Oh, Troy LOVED that. Then there was more money to be spent on the Cat Play Tree, the Cat toys, the organic cat nip (dried), the cat nip perennial plants for the garden (not dried, until we forgot to water them in the middle of the summer….THEN they were pretty gosh darned dried.), the kitty beds (which they ignored in favor of OUR beds…usually right in between Troy’s exceptionally long legs. NOT the most comfortable for Troy, but even less Comfortable for the unfortunate cat who is sleeping there when Troy rolls over.)
Oh, and lets not forget the CANNED Cat food. No ordinary dried is good enough for OUR feral,-never-touched-real-food,-but-would-eat-rodent-poop-in-a-heartbeat kitties. It got pricey. It got pricey, Fast.
Troy was a good egg about it despite the cost at this point. He was the patient, put upon husband who was still enamored enough with me to put up with this kind of crap. And to be fair, the kittens were entertaining as all get-out. They did silly things, they did endearing things, they were cuddly and sweet, and pathetic and the rescuer in Troy enjoyed saving them.
But there was one defining moment when they really honestly truly won him over.
When they fell asleep in the Bidet. Yes, friends, we own a bidet. No, we didn’t put it in. No, we didn’t buy the house because of it, and yes, we use it regularly and have come to depend on it in a non-natural fashion. But that is for another discussion altogether.
We came in one day to find the little retards curled up around the fountain sprayer on the cool porcelain of our bidet. And Troy’s heart has been their’s ever since. I wonder how his heart would melt if he came in one day to find ME curled up in the bidet? Sure, it would take a vat of Vaseline, a crowbar, and maybe some Rib-Spreaders to get me in there, but I wonder just the same.
Mama Boe 