Y'all, don't judge me.
I have 11 cats living in my house. And a rabbit.
First, the rabbit, Feffer. He's old and he behaves and the only person he ever showed interest in was my old neighbor.
Then, my boyfriend has had Mister Cat since before we started dating.
Then, when I was getting ready to move out of Mom's house, I had the opportunity to get some cats of my own. Two. The Go-Go Girls, Boston and Roxy.
Then, I had the opportunity to get just one more cat, Prudence. Y'all, I have a soft spot in my heart for black cats. I don't know what it is about them.
THEN, a little over a year ago, just when I thought I was beginning to get settled in my new house, I started hearing these kitten cries coming from the privacy fence that shields my complex from the not-so-fancy apartments behind us. Zoe and Miso came to join what I had already begun calling the Furgalicious crew.
Raising the babies, Zoe and Miso, was a lot of fun. In hindsight, of course. So much fun that I began wanting to raise more kittens. "It'll be the first time in two years I haven't had kittens!" I would moan.
Quickly, I got over that and decided I wanted a HUMAN baby instead and decided to focus my efforts on finding a husband.
Well, y'all, all I can say is: be careful what you wish for.
The day before I left for Auburn to close on my condo and begin a new stage in my life, and maybe get to work on that finding-a-husband-and-getting-a-human-baby-of-my-very-own business, this very pregnant cat, a kitten herself, shows herself after crying at me from the bushes all week.
This Cat Momma knew what she was doing. She knew I would be sympathetic, but she knew I would make her stay outside. So, she waited until Mom and the Boyfriend were both at my house to make her debut.
She looks just like Zoe, and we all know the Boyfriend has a much softer spot in his heart for animals than a good, strong, Southern girl any day.
"I promise I will take care of her," he said while looking up at me from the ground, hovering over this Cat Momma who had decided to worm her way into my Grand Plan.
I went straight to work in the guest bedroom, trying to pack up what would be moving with me, but it was just too much, y'all. Cat Momma was ruining my plans to use the spare bedroom as a place to put all the packed boxes and I was getting increasingly overwhelmed.
So, I did what any one with half a grit for a brain would do and I surveyed the danger zones: the big, un-lidded Rubbermaid boxes with stuff I can't bear to get rid of, but have no place to put any of it, and the bed. Oh, my beloved Dakota bed, with the beautiful, DISCONTINUED Pottery Barn bedding.
Y'all, God bless him, if you leave the Boyfriend in charge of something as important as removing bedding from the premises, it probably won't get done. (Case in point: I had boxed up my champagne flutes and white wine glasses before Cat Momma put on her show, but I didn't have a safe place to put them since Cat Momma took over the spare bedroom. I told the Boyfriend to find a safe place for them, as I was leaving, and, guess what, y'all? That's right. They still haven't been moved! One week later. I shouldn't be talking, though. I can't seem to move them anywhere, either. Except for the guest bedroom, where the birthing suite is.)
But, I digress. I took charge the best I could and I moved what I could to the guest bathroom. Then I removed my beloved Mia quilt and shams from the premises to go on and make their new home in Auburn.
I still don't know what his contribution to preparing the guest room as a birthing suite has been, other than UNpacking a box and cutting it apart for the Cat Momma to NOT use after all, all while leaving the contents of said box on the den floor. Or maybe it was using my fine stainless to serve wet food to Cat Momma and leaving the spoon next to her bowls to dry. Or maybe it was squirting the calorie supplement for Cat Momma on the lid of one of my out-of-season clothes containers instead of putting it on the food, like the directions said.
Oh, well. At least I can say that I saved the Pottery Barn quilt from being the delivery medium of choice for Cat Momma.
Y'all, all I have to do now is figure out how to reconcile that I will be living in a quagmire for the next week and a half or so while trying to keep my hands off five stinkin' cute kittens that just had to be born under the Dakota bed.
