One Eyed Speedy Gonzales

Several months ago I wound up with a spare cat. He was my neighbor’s outdoor cat that just kind of migrated over to our house. He got an eye injury and I (okay, more like my mom) ended up taking care of it and saving his life.

The cat now has one eye and lives with us. He is not my favorite creature, but we tolerate each other.

His name is Speedy Gonzales, and this is what life with Speedy is like:

The Sunday before last my husband was working and I was trying to get a lot done. I was attempting to clean house, pack up any left over Christmas decorations that I missed in the first go-round, and get the girls ready to get out of the house. I had intentions of taking them somewhere fun, like the Creative Discovery Museum, (spoiler- we didn’t make it) and then to run my usual Sunday errands.

My almost 2 year old, Lottie, was in need of a bath that morning, so I put her in the tub. About 10 minutes into her tubby, she pooped in it. I don’t know what it is with this kid, but this is the third time she has done this recently and I’m totally over it.

I got her out of the tub, got her dressed and plopped her in the living room to play with her sister while I cleaned up her excrement. Mom life is fancy, y’all.

While I was dousing the tub with bleach and boiling water, Speedy the One Eyed Jerk attacked Lottie and she started wailing.  He’s prone to pouncing on her, I think because she’s the smallest and he thinks he can take her in a battle. He can, of course, because all he has to do is look at her and she starts freaking out. I grabbed him to put him outside but he had it in his head that he DID NOT want to go outside, so he latched onto my rib cage with one of his claws. I had to pry him off and ended up wounded and bruised and convinced I would end up with cat scratch fever or some other feline related illness and die.

Later, after the tub was clean and I got the girls dressed, I went out to the garage to clean out my car and start loading it with the things I needed for the day (diaper bag, snacks, jackets, books for Bella to read in the car, etc). While I was loading and unloading the car, Speedy jumped in and pooped on my passenger side floor mat.

There is a litter box in the garage and the garage was also open. He had plenty of other places to go. He went in my car because he was mad at me. The end.

Later (after cleaning up the cat crap AFTER cleaning up the Lottie crap) I got the girls in the car and ready to go. Speedy was sitting on top of my car, right smack in the center of the roof, where I couldn’t reach him with my arms. So I pulled out of the driveway thinking he would hop off when the car started moving.

He didn’t.

I drove round and round the cul-de-sac waiting for him to jump off. Nothing. I finally stopped the car and made Bella take off her one of her boots so I could smack at him and get him off.

When I got home from running errands (and not taking the kids to the Creative Discovery Museum) I let Speedy back inside and this is where he went as soon as he got indoors. My bed.

This mai bed. I rulez this house.

Dis mai bed. I rulez dis house.

So. If anyone is in need of a one eyed black cat, let me know. I can totally hook you up.

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Foxy in the jungle

All I really talk about lately is my kids, but since they’re the humans I’m around the most every day, I can’t really help it. So here is another story about my kids, or, well, one of my kids.

Last year my mom had to put one of her dogs to sleep. It was this pomeranian named Foxy. Bella was 3 at the time but she still talks about Foxy pretty regularly. After Foxy was put down, my parents buried her out in the woods near their house in this creepy pet cemetery that we have. There’s this little trail that leads to it and they all have little headstones.

Anyway, Bella was present for the burial and she brings it up on occasion

A few weeks ago, Bella was talking about how she wanted to go to Disney World and who all she wanted to come along on the trip. In addition to her father and I she listed her grandparents, her aunt, her great grandmother, our cat, and all my mom’s animals, including Foxy. I asked her if she remembered Foxy and she said, “Yes, Foxy is sleeping out in the jungle.” The jungle is what she calls the woods.

Today Bella brought Foxy up again when she was listing who she wanted to invite to her birthday party. Without me even asking, she said, “Foxy is out there in the jungle under that dirt, why is she out there? Why is she under the dirt?”

Me: “Ummm…she’s out there under the dirt because we buried her.”

Bella: “Why?”

Me: “Because she went to a better place.”

Bella: “No she didn’t. She’s dead.”

Me: “…Yes. You’re right. Yes, she is.”

Bella: “She’s still invited to my birthday party.”

I probably should have tried to explain at that point that one can’t come back from dead unless they’re a zombie, but I think I’m going to save that conversation for a later time.

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Nyquil, Huffington Post and a video of me singing to a cat.

Where have I been for about 3 weeks? Oh, nowhere special. First I got knocked down for about a week with what I would call the plague and you would probably call “THE COMMON COLD” but whatever. I pretty much stayed on the couch in a Theraflu and Nyquil stupor and whined to anyone that would listen to me and waited for impending death. It was a pretty productive week.

I still managed to get in some Halloween activities because I didn’t want to deprive Bella of the excitement. We went to a fall festival and two Trunk or Treats the weekend before Halloween and by the actual holiday I was finally feeling better and we were able to take her trick or treating, which she loved. I would post pictures but I already posted a ton to Facebook so….nah.

Other than that I’ve just been working, cleaning and chasing my kid around. Oh and also getting notifications that I have fans on Huffington Post. For a day or two I kept looking at these email notifications like “????”

And then suddenly something seemed vaguely familiar. I may or may not have had a few drinks, created an account and started leaving snarky comments on articles here and there. MAYBE. Okay, definitely. So now I have fans.

Tonight I went to dinner with my parents for dinner and videotaped their cat, Walter, because he had some nasty black sore on his ear and he kept wanting to rub on me and I didn’t want to touch him. Walter is this random stray that wandered in through the cat door like a decade ago and never left. You can read more about him here. Basically, this cat is always covered in wounds, so before you look at that thing on his ear and start being all “OMG that cat needs to go to a vet,” keep in mind that my mom practically keeps a local vet in business in her attempt to keep this cat and all her other animals alive. I apologize in advance for the creepy song I am singing in the background. I felt the need to narrate and sing song is way better than regular talking.

Visit Walter on YouTube here. 

 

You are welcome.

 

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My husband knows the cat is dead and he won’t tell me.

On Memorial Day we adopted an adorable little white kitty kitty. We named him Waldo because Bella was so obsessed with him that she would pick him up and carry him around the house. He took to hiding all the time to avoid her, so our home became a constant “Where’s Waldo?”

Well, Waldo has gone missing. There’s more to the story than that. A neighborhood dog got ahold of him and rung his neck the other day, leaving him with noticeable bite marks. I hate that dog and I hate my neighbors who just let him run free allowing him to attack my cats. We examined him and we were worried, but he was acting fine. He was still trotting around and acting all “Happy Waldo” or whatever, but we were still planning on taking him to the vet the next morning.

That never happened. Early yesterday morning, before I went to work, Waldo wanted to go outside. He went out and curled up on the front porch to sunbathe. I came home from work at about 9 AM because I lost a contact lens and needed to replace it. He was still there when I left to go back to work.

Sometime between then and now, Waldo has gone MIA. Jesus was going to be the one to take him to the vet, but said that when he tried to find him around noon, he was no where to be found. And we haven’t seen him since. Do you want to know what I think? DO YOU? Sure you do.

I think that cat died and Jesus found him and discarded of him and now he won’t tell me about it. He thinks it’s better for me to think Waldo is “missing” instead of me knowing the gruesome truth: that cat died.

Why? Why do I think this? Well, first of all, I know my husband. Second of all, I put some food out on the front porch yesterday when Jesus said Waldo was missing. Jesus brought the food back in. I put it back out last night. Jesus brought it back in this morning.

Either he wants Waldo to starve OR he knows that cat isn’t going to be coming back.

This post isn’t meant to be funny. I’m really so worried about that cat I could just puke. Waldo, if you’re out there, please come home. I know you can’t read and you aren’t on the internet, but seriously, please come home.

And husband, if the cat is dead, go ahead and just tell me. I would rather know and not be worrying about him and wandering around the neighborhood with a flashlight screaming for him. I’m a 28 year old woman. I can handle this. I can’t promise I will handle it WELL, but I will handle it.

 

WHERE IS MY FREAKING CAT?

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Dear Motherhood: Bite Me. And other things.

I keep meaning to post something but for over a week, I haven’t. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say. I’ve got plenty to ramble about, like……

After our beloved fish Sucky Thing died, his pal Stripey Thing went to the giant fish bowl in the sky this week as well. I would say it was because he missed his friend and was lonely and was all “GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD” but that wasn’t it. Bella dumped a whole bottle of fish food in the tank. Farewell Sucky and Stripey.

Speaking of Bella she has been a total handful lately. Every time we go into a store she spots something she wants and will WAIL until she gets it. It doesn’t matter what it is, it doesn’t have to be a toy, she just wants SOMETHING. It’s like “Waaaaaaaah! Toothpaste! Waaaaaaaah! Dryer Sheets! Waaaaaaaah! Ointment!” I try and satisfy her with things I am actually in the store to buy, trying to pass them off as being for her, but she’s on to me. Also, if I hand her one thing, it doesn’t keep her preoccupied for long, she usually chucks it into the cart or the floor and starts wailing for something else. I’ve tried the whole “If you behave and stop yelling, I will get you something.” It doesn’t work. She just yells “No! No!” and tries to escape the cart. It’s pretty much heaven. In the last week I have yanked her out of carts at both Target and Walmart and left the store without making my purchases. That really came back to bite me yesterday when I was out of coffee and could have sworn I had bought some but nope, left it in the cart at Walmart during a tantrum. SEE WHAT YOU ARE DOING TO ME CHILD? YOU ARE DEPRIVING ME OF COFFEE.

She has also started to refuse to brush her teeth and instead runs away, hands clamped tightly over her mouth. I’ve kind of figured this one out by starting to brush mine first in front of her and then she wants to do it, too. Except sometimes she fakes it and just sits there and sucks on the brush. My lectures about how her teeth are going to rot out and then we are going to have to get them all capped don’t phase her. She’s probably thinking, “Whatever, mom, you’ll be stuck with the dentist bill.” And she’s totally right.

Potty training is a total nightmare. I pretty much just let her run around naked all day. It’s the only way she’ll go in the pot. She’s figured out if she doesn’t have anything on “down there” then she will go all over herself. We will work on wearing something and pulling it down later. This method of letting her run around and go on herself means I’m pretty much trapped at home all day which is delightful. She spent most of today yelling “NO PANTIES” at me because I kept trying to get her to put some on so we could work on pulling them down. It was a no go.

Since we are in the house all day and she’s practically naked I pretty much am, too. I kind of just wander around in my underwear and one of Jesus’ t-shirts. This really works out well when people come knocking at my door with Bibles which is like every other day in this neighborhood. Nothing says “Don’t come back”  quite like a screaming woman in her underwear and a naked toddler peeing on the front porch. I’m just kidding. That didn’t happen. Yet. But some people did ring our bell at 9 AM the morning when Jesus was wandering around the house in his boxers and I was trying to get dressed for work and when I answered the door I realized my bra was popping out of the front of my dress. I just left it. Whatever. WHY DO THESE PEOPLE KEEP COMING TO MY DOOR? Why do people think it’s acceptable to disturb folks in their home? This is my sanctuary where I can be myself and sit around in my underwear.

Anyway, that’s all I’ve really got for now. My next post will be about who I think should be cast in the 50 Shades of Grey movie. Even though it’s no secret that the book (I’ve only read the first one) wasn’t anything I really liked or would even really recommend, I still have an opinion because if they are going to do a movie they better cast it right. By which I mean, Christian Grey better be a Mr. Hottie McTrottie Pants.

That is all.

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Sucky Thing bites the dust.

We have the fish tank of death. A few years ago when I was pregnant with Bella, Jesus decided to get a fish tank. We got a couple of tetras, some kind of little striped fish and an algae eater. The tetras were named Rosita and Aldo and the other two were “Stripey Thing” and “Sucky Thing”. About half way through my pregnancy we moved out of our apartment across town to a house. All the fish survived. A few months later, Rosita and Aldo kicked the bucket and ever since then we haven’t been able to keep anything alive in there for very long, a couple of months, tops. Except Sucky Thing and Stripey Thing. They’ve been hanging on for over 3 years now. Until today.

 

I like that Jesus just said “Yeah.” Clearly some of us are more sympathetic than others. Oh well. RIP Sucky Thing.
I kind of feel like I should have some kind of slide show with a little Sarah McLachlan “I Will Remember You” background music.
But I don’t have any pictures of Sucky Thing.
Because he was a fish and I’m not a psycho.

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I named my cat Waldo and I can’t have nice things.

I don’t have much to say tonight besides that I just now decided to write a post and all freaking night our new kitten has been sleeping and NOW he decides to get up a squeal and trample all over my keyboard and gnaw on my fingers. That’s just perfect. I’m still pretty much convinced that Bella is going to unintentionally end up murdering this cat. She still continues to pick him up and carry him around the house by his neck and I don’t mean, like, picking him up by his neck skin like a momma cat would, I mean her hand clasped firmly around his neck. I have repeatedly tried to correct her on this but she isn’t having any of it. The other day she accidentally slammed shut him in a door. He was okay, he came out of it pouncing and hissing at her. He has resorted to spending most of Bella’s waking hours hiding. This is why I have named him Waldo, because it’s a constant “Where’s Waldo” around here.

Other than that, tonight Bella and I went to Target. I was roaming around looking at things aimlessly because I have a gift card so I was looking for something to buy for myself or for the house. I came across a nice white bed set that I came incredibly close to purchasing because we need a new comforter. I was lifting up the items about to put them in the cart when I had a “Waaaaaaaait a minute,” moment. The reason I was looking for a new comforter is because Bella has: attacked ours with a marker, spilt nail polish on it and managed to rip what was a tiny little whole into a BIG GIGANTIC hole and started ripping the stuffing out of it. So, naturally, white is an appropriate choice right? Erm. No. Ultimately, I decided against making a new purchase all together because I think I will just wait a little longer until she is a little less destructive. (Which might be never.) I will just deal with our pitiful falling apart bedspread in the meantime. I realize that this is pathetic thing to be whining about, I mean there are kids in Africa or somewhere sleeping in huts on the floor right? So what that my 2 year old bedding from Bed, Bath and Beyond has been mutilated by my toddler.

All I’m saying is that nice things are really becoming hard to come by nowadays.

 

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DEAR GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE?

So on Memorial Day, Jesus we decided to get a new kitten. We have one cat, his name it Kitty and he’s a couple of years old. He makes me crazy sometimes because he’s really energetic and attacks me a lot when he’s trying to be playful and rams me in the face at night or bites my toes when he wants something, like to go outside or more food. But I’m used to Kitty and he pretty much manages himself. Sometimes he wants to cuddle  for like 20 seconds but most of the time he just frolics in the yard or sleeps somewhere. Sometimes I mistake him for a burglar but whatever.

I’ve been saying for awhile now that Kitty is enough and that I don’t want any more animals….like ever. But I guess that all went out the window because Jesus we decided Bella would like a kitten. And we were right, she does. He doesn’t much like her though because she chases him around the house and puts him in her purse. It took her a few times to figure out how to pick him up and we keep having to tell her to be gentle. I keep envisioning her squeezing him so hard that his little eyeballs pop out.

Anyway, my opinion of him is pretty much:

THIS DAMN CAT.

I should not have second guessed myself, I should have gone with my initial decision that I did NOT want another animal. But I was all like, “Well….it’s just a kitten. How much trouble can he be?” The answer is: a whole lot of trouble.

Most of the time he wanders around the house crying this high pitched meow. He keeps chewing on my phone charger cord. He keeps crawling up my legs with his claws. He gets all up in my face like “MEOW MEOW MEOW PET MEEEEEEE PET MEEEEE.” So I DO pet him. For like half an hour, but the second I stop he’s like “MEOWWWWWWW MEOWWWWWWW” all over again. And he keeps pooping on the carpet and it’s always some place thats hard for me to get to, like under the couch. I must have moved our big freaking couch by myself 5 times today to clean up poop. He totally doesn’t get the concept of his litter box. I mean he likes to hang out in it and dig around and knock litter out onto the floor but he won’t actually GO in the litter box. The litter box is not a toy, animal, it’s your restroom. My carpet is not your potty.

Tonight after he pooped for like the 37834783478th time and as I was moving furniture to get to it, he hopped up on the coffee table and sat down on my lap top. He totally still had poop on his butt hole so it left a lovely little spot on my Mac. I pretty much bathed it in antibacterial.

Right now he is sleeping peacefully next to me like he’s all sweet and stuff. But I know better, Lucifer. Can’t fool me you little jerk.

 

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Gloria and the fireplace.

Recently I mentioned in this post about the time my family’s cat, Gloria, fell into our fake fireplace and almost died.

Well, maybe she didn’t almost die. I don’t know. You decide.

A couple of years ago, my mom had gone to visit my dad, who lives in Cincinnati. (Yeah, my parents are married and live in separate cities, what of it?) Anyway, my sister and I were alone at home, which meant HEYYYYY PARTY TIME! Actually, no, it didn’t. I was sitting around watching Good Luck Chuck (which was pretty terrible) and my sister was locked up in her room, as usual.

Anyway, there I was in the living room watching Good Luck Chuck, and all of a sudden I heard this “thud thud thuddity thud clunk clunk meooooooowwwwww.”I turned the volume down on the TV and listened for a minute and didn’t hear anything more, so I resumed my watching. Then, as time went on, I kept hearing things: “Meowwww. Scratch. Scratch. Thud. Meowwww.” It went on for about half an hour, and I finally went upstairs to retrieve my sister.

We started wandering around the living room listening and knocking on walls. We finally pinpointed the sound to coming from the stone fireplace. Our fireplace was meowing. We took count of all the animals in the house, and realized one was missing: Gloria. My sister, Amy, began tapping on the wall next to the fireplace and shouting “GLORIA?!?!” In return, she would get this pitiful tiny, “meoooooow.”

We called my parents, telling them, somehow, some way, the cat had fallen inside of the fireplace. Only….the fireplace wasn’t real. It’s just this big stone fake fire place with electric logs. So my parents were all like “What have ya’ll been smokin’, that cat IS NOT IN THE FIREPLACE.” It wasn’t like there was a chimney or anything, it was just this solid stone monstrosity that she couldn’t possibly be inside of.

But Amy and I were not convinced, we didn’t care if it was illogical. That cat was in there. For some reason we thought that if we went into the basement, we would be able to gain access to her. Mind you, we don’t actually have a basement. It’s a crawl space underneath the front porch that leads you underneath the house, where theres just a bunch of dirt and nastiness and where you totally can’t stand up AT ALL. So, we crawled underneath the house in the cold, and in the dark, and in the dirt, thinking we were ACTUALLY going to find something.

Actually, you could hear the cat down there too, when you crawled underneath the living room area, but we couldn’t figure out where she was or how to get to her.

So we crawled back out from underneath the house and went back into the living room and tried to figure out what the hell had happened. We could still hear the cat in the fireplace. So we crawled back under the house again. I-don’t-know-why, we just didn’t know what to do.

Then Amy returned to her bedroom to wallow in self pity about her kitty being stuck in a fireplace. So, I called Jesus over, and we went crawling around underneath the house AGAIN. Actually, he did, I was tired of dirt and spiders. So I just waited to see if he found anything. He didn’t.

Amy and I continued to call and harass our parents, who I guess started to suspect something really WAS up. The next morning, my grandfather showed up bright and early saying my dad had called him to come check things out. He started listening and tapping on walls and heard the cat too (HAHA! I KNEW WE WEREN’T CRAZY!) However, he informed us that the cat was in the wall NEXT to the fireplace, not IN the fireplace. Then he started cutting holes, but he couldn’t find anything. So he left. Then we had all these holes in the wall. My parents called and said they had given up, something was going on, they were going to drive into town and figure it out.

6 hours later, they arrived, and my dad started cutting holes in the wall, too. It turns out, Gloria had gotten in the attic and HAD fallen into the wall. She fell all the way from the third floor down to the first floor. Needless to say, she was pretty happy to be rescued. Our walls, however, were pretty freaking ticked off, and so was my dad.

Oh, animals, I maintain my opinion that you are a big pain in the ass.

VICTORY and FREEDOM!!!!!!! FOREVER!

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Bella’s furry friends.

Bella has taken to torturing the cat, our oh-so-spunky feline, lovingly dubbed “Kitty.” Our wee tot chases him about the house, squealing, shrieking, smacking. She’s learned to latch onto his tail, yank his fur, and to sit on him. The poor animal is miserable. He stands pitifully by the front door, begging for someone, anyone, to just let him out.

This got me to thinking: though Kitty is the only animal in our house, (besides a couple of fish), he is not the only animal Bella encounters. Grandma and Grandpa’s house is FULL of furry friends. See, I grew up in a house full of animals, I’ve mentioned that before, specifically about having 20 cats and a 3 legged hamster.

It’s a wonder I ended up with only one cat. Actually, that is probably WHY I chose to have just one cat. I lived in a home that always had four legged friends (minus that one hamster). They were companions that peed on the carpet, scratched up the furniture and the door frames, caused flea infestations, and barked and meowed at all hours of the night. Pets are great but they are also a major pain in the ass sometimes. There, I said it. Don’t hate.

Today Bella spent the afternoon at my parents house, let’s all take a minute to meet all of Bella’s “buddies” over there, shall we?

Foxy Fluffilicious.

Meet Foxy, my mother’s 5 year old Pomeranian. She’s cute! She’s tiny! She’s FLUFFY! She’s……overbred and completely falling apart. Foxy has multiple problems including a collapsing trachea. She frequently has to get breathing treatments from my mother who happens to be a respiratory therapist. My mother did not CHOOSE to have a dog with breathing problems, I’m sure after a long day at the hospital treating people that can’t breathe, she really didn’t want to come home to a wheezing and gasping dog. It’s kinda like a weird cosmic joke, but whatever. Due to her breathing problems, Foxy also has anxiety issues, probably from the fact that she is in a constant state of panic because she can’t get air. We think that she is also mentally challenged because she isn’t getting enough oxygen to her brain. This animal is consistently on anti depressants and sedatives. She’s one high maintenance pooch.

Walter. The Killer.

This is Walter. We didn’t adopt this cat, we just happened to have a cat door, and this guy just started coming in and making himself at home. Walter is mighty pretty, when he isn’t beat all to shit, which is CONSTANTLY. This is a wild kitty. He is constantly in fights with other tom cats so he’s always covered in scabs and scratches. Once he got some nasty infection from a bite he got on his ear. It got to be about the size of a golf ball and my mom had to take him to the vet to get it drained. That was a good story, huh? Want me to tell it again?

This cat also catches all his own food: lizards, birds, mice, moles, and bunnies. He brings his treats in through the aforementioned cat door to share with the entire family! I once stepped on a bird skull and my mother once found a skinless rabbit that was unfortunately still alive. I’m pretty sure Walter ripped the face off of Big Bird in this picture. Little bastard.

Minnie. The obese Kitty.

This is Minnie. It’s not actually Minnie, it’s MINI. Why? Because her name is “Mini Kitty” due to the fact that she is somewhat small for a full grown cat, except that she’s obese because we overfeed her and her stomach drags the ground. No, seriously, she is fat and her belly does drag the ground, but that’s because her legs are abnormally short due to some kind of heart murmur. Mini Kitty doesn’t really do anything but cuddle and sleep all day, which in my opinion makes her the GREATEST CAT ALIVE. I still think about taking her from my mom and letting her live with us. If fact, I’m thinking about it right now, looking at this picture. Also, Mini Kitty is missing a chunk from her left ear there because Walter the Killer bit it off. I told you he was a bastard.

Forrest!

This is one HAPPY dog. This animal is an attention whore, and when he gets excited he smiles. HE ACTUALLY SMILES. My sister and I find it pretty creepy, but my mom thinks it’s the cutest ever. I’m also pretty sure this one is my mom’s favorite pet in the house right now. Me? Not so much. He’s alright. He’s just so needy, but I guess not as needy as Foxy, the breathing treatment pomeranian right?

Gloria.

Eh. Not much to say about Gloria. My sister got her just after the movie Happy Feet came out, so thats where her name came from, because she’s black and white..like a penguin…okay whatever, shut up. Gloria doesn’t do much. She just hides from everyone. She doesn’t cuddle, she doesn’t play….she’s just….eh…but pictures like this make her fun, because she is sleeping in my mother’s Christmas nativity scene. Gloria thinks she’s Jesus.

Gloria is also interesting because she once fell into our fake fireplace and my sister and I spent all night trying to save her, but that’s a story for another time. (I realize that whole statement made no sense, but when I get around to telling that story, IT WILL MAKE SENSE. I SWEAR.)

Gloria also follows in Walter’s footsteps sometimes in the catching and killing of small animals department, just today she brought home a snake. HOORAY.

Jack. Also known as Jack Attack, Jack-A-Roo and LumberJack.

Last but not least, there’s Jack. Jack was adopted in an effort to replace our long lost Chester, one of the greatest pets of all time. Thats also a story for another time. Jack and Chester haven’t really turned out to be very similar at all, but I digress. Jack lives in Cincinnati with my dad most of the time, but he travels into town some weekends, or when dad takes vacation time. Since Jack spends most of his time as an only child, being spontaneously re-introduced into this circus of insane animals nearly sends him into a panic attack every time. The poor little guy stands with one foot raised at all times and always keeps his distance from controversy.

Bella will surely get along with animals after a childhood with this gang.

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