This is why I don't have children...

Picture it: The day after Christmas, four years ago.

After a 9 hour drive from my parents house down south, I reach my house. My lab jumps excitedly out of the car and begins running like a maniac around the yard as I begin to carry in the mother load that is my Christmas presents every year.

As I carry in the last present, I call to my dog Ladybug to come in. She is rooting in the snow and her tail is wagging like crazy.

I yell at her again, and she finally trots in the front door, with what looks like a dead mouse in her mouth.

I, of course, immediately freak out because I am scared to death of any little furry creatures. She jumps on the couch and lays it down. Turns out it is not a mouse, but a little, half frozen kitten.

Shit...Shit...Shit...I hate cats...

So I try to psyche myself up to throw the damn thing back outside while Ladybug jumps on the couch and begins licking the kitten. Great. Now it's wet on top of half frozen.

I sit across from them trying like hell to get rid of this damn cat, but I just can't do it. It is so small, so helpless. I decide I'll let it warm up and then figure out what to do in the morning. Ladybug sleeps with the kitten all night.

In the morning I try and figure out what the hell to do. I give the little kitten some milk, and call a couple of shelters. They are packed. I guess a lot of people get animals for Christmas, and then they "return" them.

So it looks like I'm stuck with a cat. The dog is in love with this kitten, so I decide to keep it. That, and I just can't be heartless enough to throw it outside.

So that's how I became a cat owner. I named him Oliver after Oliver Twist.

Here was Oliver about a month after I got him:



This is Oliver 4 years later:



Imagine what I'd do to a kid...

Well I ended up having to put Ladybug to sleep last year after 14 wonderful years. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do, and Oliver didn't deal with it to well either, hence why he is such a tank ass.

So the vet tells me he is depressed. Getting another cat would be a good idea because he isn't used to being along.

Fucking great.

I hate cats.

He is still my responsibility though. He's very anti-social and doesn't really like people or me unless I'm feeding him or scooping the damn litter box. I am the slave, he is the master of all.

There ended up being this little kitten that needed rescued, so I broke down and got tank ass a friend. I named her Martini, because I figured I'd need to drink heavily once I had two cats, and it went well with Olive-er.

Here's Martini:





She's a major pain in the ass. High maintenance, always wanting attention. I think she has made Oliver even more depressed.

Martini is one other thing though. She is fun as hell. She plays endlessly and has personality plus.

God, please don't let me become a crazy cat lady...