A kindly blog reader recently asked how our cats and dogs are doing. Well, I have sad news (which I don't think I've mentioned on this site yet): My vet -- whom I'd accused of being a "glass half-empty" type when she examined our cat Spot -- was actually just being an observant doctor. Turns out Spot did have cancer, as she'd suspected, and we had to put him to sleep.
Everyone who has ever endured that torture knows how bad it is, so I don't need to go into detail.
We're now down to two cats and a dog, who is barking like crazy right now because he wants in the house. I would let him in, but then I'd have to throw the golf ball for him 10,000 times in a row and would therefore have a tough time typing. He's just gonna have to wait his turn!
Three pets is probably enough for most families, but when Emily mentioned that she wants to ask Santa for "an orange kitten that can fit in my hands," my eyes lit up. What can I say, I'm a Leo.
Just imagine the thrill on Christmas morning when she finds a LIVE BEING waiting for her instead of boring old inanimate toys. (I'm assuming Jake will be fine with the aforementioned boring old inanimate toys.) I'm so excited. I hope Santa comes through for her! Mike, on the other hand, is crossing his fingers that Santa hits some sort of snafu when it comes to this gift. But he won't.
The only potential problem: As I talked up this plan to my hubby, I heard myself promising to take over the litter-box duties full-time if Santa delivers OK (orange kitten. Hey, wouldn't that be a cute name?). I've promised to start my new position on Dec. 20.
I sure hope OK -- and a certain red-haired girl -- appreciate this.
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