They’ve been here 12 hours and already I’ve had to give one of them (who was pee-soaked from the drive) a bath and the other got trapped behind the water heater for an hour. I’ll let you guess who did what.
Pet living is tough.
Most of the time when we try to show Holden the cats, he looks everywhere but at them, or he shrieks in their faces and they gallop off. The other night we were chilling on the couch and Jack just plopped himself down beside the baby and hung out despite being kicked repeatedly. Like it was no big thing. I died of cute but came back to life thanks to the abundance of life-giving cute in the air.
She’s my lookout. Mailpersons beware.
My dear boyfriend, upon the occasion of his first attempt at cleaning the litter box:
“There is an amazing amount of turds in here.”
I’m sick. My pictures suck. EVERYONE’S A CRITIC, KITTY, JEEZ.