So, once upon another lifetime ago, when I was young(er) and stupid(er)...well, maybe...I dated a fellow that we shall forever after affectionately call The Crap Weasel*. We had a tumultuous relationship, Ol' Crappy and I, and the last time we broke up (there were many), the drama was quite protracted. At one point, in a desperate attempt to reconcile, Crap Weasel offered me something that I never imagined: "We can get married!" (Does that count as a proposal? I don't think so, but it'd be nice to have that scalp in my belt) "We can have children!"
At the time, I was rather anti-baby, and so began to lecture him. "I don't WANT a baby, Crap Weasel. You know that. I want a family made up of pets and friends and a happy, functional couple." In the end, we went our separate ways...him to the Deep South, and I to Tampa, and Bloomington, and Sunnydale. Since those good ol' days, my stance on babies has changed, but not my views on unconventional families. There's a whole lotta room in my heart and home for friends and pets, and so in that spirit, I recently made a coupla additions to my (very) little family. No, I didn'y have twins. I'm still taking my no-baby pills, as I am still a Liberated Woman (tm), but I did acquire two little purr-balls of fur and feist, otherwise known as my kittens, Magdalene and Austen.
Magdalene's a marmalade girl who plays with her food, meows loudly when she's using the litter box, and bullies Austen.
*The little piece of food on the ground is what she scooped out and later batted around.
Austen's a black-and-white boy who follows me everywhere, including the shower, and has a purr that registers on the Richter scale.
They're little assholes, especially Magdalene, and I know they are plotting against me, now that they have infiltrated The Hermitage. But they're good company, and they are my kitties.
*All my ex-menfolk have nicknames. Crap Weasel, Idiot Steve, Big Brad, John the Saint, and the Emotional Fucktard. Guess which one I still get along with?
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