some nights I forget the internet is even around

It’s usually night like tonight, too.

Drive home from work where The Boy and I yammer away about homework, cleaning his room, a kid at school that’s kind of a jerk, and Minneapolis city curfews. The Boy does his math homework while we run to the store for paper towels, a prescription, and a winter scarf Riley can wear to his first visit to Santa on Saturday.

The three of us stand around in the kitchen. Well, The General cooks, I open things and taste test new recipes. The Boy, in his attempt at talking his way out of cleanup duty, tried to say he helped with dinner prep by “providing conversation”.

Dinner at the table, discussions about hot sauce and what size shoe The Boy’s dad wears. Then it’s off to bathe for The Kid and some program watching for the adults.

Now I’m in bed with little Thelma. The Kid has a Panic at the Disco CD on repeat while he sleeps. And The General and Riley are closing up shop downstairs before coming up to bed.

Nights like this have become my life and I don’t have a complaint in the world about it.

call this my crazy cat lady post

Back a long, long time ago in November 2010, we got a call from the Director of Pet Project Rescue. She was all, “I know you don’t really want to foster cats or kittens, but I had to rescue this little 8 week old kitten from animal control. He has a cold and they were going to euthanize him.” Those may have not been the exact words, but close. And, yes, they do euthanize even 8 week old kittens at animal control, especially when they have colds (otherwise known as CAT HERPES) and they can’t be around other cats. So, do you see why we said, “Sure, just bring the damn cat over already.”

He came over, looking like this:

He’s pitiful looking, no? He weighed a pound or two, had to have his face wiped off multiple times a day just so he could open up his tiny little eyes, and we had to force feed him lysine to help combat his herp (those are The General’s word, not mine!) a few times throughout the day. But man, he had some attitude and I should have realized it at that point, but when something curls up right in the crook of your neck and purrs you both sleep, you forget about that little demon part of him, right? I’m assuming that’s what it’s like with human babies, too.

He’s never scratched or bitten any of us, even on accident. He still has all of his claws (DECLAWING CUTS OFF THEIR KNUCKLES, FRIENDS), but only uses them when we give him a cardboard box to destroy. We’ve been trying to train the new foster puppy basic commands from time to time and Marshall is getting them quicker than the dog. Yes, our cat sits and lays down and he’ll do anything else you want him to do, all for a dog treat.

And now he’s this cat. A cat that thinks he’s a dog. He couldn’t catch a fly to save his life, despite really, really wanting to. He likes to go on walks outside in the backyard while I hold him. We got him a fishing pole at the dollar store and he loves it so much that you have to hide it from him or he drags it all the way around the house.

I never thought I’d like cats, but Marshall, our little butt tabby (that’s how animal control denoted that he was a butterscotch tabby) changed my mind pretty darn quick.