The Apocalypse Has Occurred. Husband Declared Insane.

We got back Saturday afternoon from our time with in-laws and out-laws alike. Trip was quick, we avoided most of the idiots on the road (Did you know that the vast majority of people on Highway 395 prefer to drive at or over 90 MPH? The speed limit is 65, people! I prefer to speed, but just not that much!), and we brought back a truck load of bounty from Schatt's Bakkery to share with all and sundry.

It took us about an hour to make the rounds of people who we were dropping off the goodies to before we could actually start heading for home. Our next-to-last stop was at the local Ace Hardware store. We had a coffee cake for the good folks there and The Husband got out to go give it to the appreciative audience.

He spends a few minutes inside the store, and I watched him through the window, chatting it up with our friends that work there. Then he disappeared behind the counter. When he next appeared at the door of the store, he had this wierd look on his face and he motioned to me to get out of the truck. So, I did.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he said. "You can take it home if you want. People are so fucking mean."

And what, pray tell was "it"? A teeny tiny kitten. He and his siblings had been abandoned in a cardboard box in the desert to die. The poor things weren't even weaned yet, and looked to be about three to four weeks old.

As a bit of history here, The Husband and I used to have cats when we first got together. We each had cats separately before we got together. I love cats. I'm a cat person. The Husband likes cats, but is really more of a dog person. Over time The Husband decided that he was deathly allergic to cats (having your eyes swell up and water terribly after petting a cat can be a great indicator that you have developed this condition). So after our last two ran away/had to be put down, the proclamation went forth that there were to be no more cats in the SheepleRage land, so sayeth he. While a bit disappointed, but understanding that yes, allergies are very NOT fun (and neither are cat boxes, let's be honest!), I gave my consent to said decree forevermore or until the earth shall be split in twain, amen.

The result of this decree was the compromise that I would be able to get a lap dog. One specifically designed to do nothing but while his/her time away in my lap, adoring thing that it was. Which was why we got Jasmine, my Miniature Dachshund. She is my cat. Only she doesn't purr, which is a bit of a bummer but one with which I have learned to deal with. And she has a slavish devotion to me that sometimes gets on my nerves when I just want to be left ALONE, dammit! Cats understand these things, you know? Dogs don't. Especially dogs that are in love with you. And Jasmine is most certainly in love with me. *sigh*

Anyway, to basically be told that I could take a kitten away with me to bottle feed and love and snuggle kind of blew my mind away. I just didn't know what to say beyond "Buh?" which is not very articulate when you think about it, no?

Couching things in vague terms, it was decided that I would take one of the kittens, but only until we decided he was healthy enough to be turned over to our local cat rescue to be found a good new home. Then the minute we got home, The Husband started talking about keeping the kitten and making him an outside cat, but oh no, we have to look out for Skipper who has actually killed a cat before, and what about the birds? Again, I say "Buh?"

Holy crap, people. The man who said he never wanted a cat to darken our door step again all but thrust a tiny, shivering slip of kitten into my more than willing arms and is now plotting to keep it. He's even talking about NAMING it, while I'm still not allowing myself that little luxury.

Can somebody tell me what space aliens stole my husband and who in the heck they replaced him with?

So now I have a little dictator running my life. At the moment, he is curled up in the nape of my neck, cat napping. When he's awake, he runs around my desk, playing hide-and-go-seek in the cords on my computer. He is ravenous for food and is rapidly gaining weight. I've already started him on some baby food and will soon attempt to wean him from the bottle and onto regular kitten food. And I think he has learned to use a litter box, praise Jesus! Thank God my work doesn't give a rat's ass about me bringing him in - the folks around here love it. There's just no way I could leave him at home all day when he's not weaned.

Anyway, we may or may not have another pet. Only time will tell. I'm not really crazy about having an outdoor cat around here but having a mouser actually INSIDE the house means that he can keep up with them better than outside, 'cause there's no way in hell he can erradicate the entire population. He's only one cat, ya know?

We shall see what we shall see. I'll post a picture and a funny story about this little fuzzy thing later on tonight. Cute fuzzy things make the world a better place. Especially when they sleep all snuggled up on you.