It happened quickly, as it so often does. One day, my marriage was complete and happy with just the two of us. The next day, Fred had fallen in love with a 22 year-old.
What can a wife do? Down at the very core of me, I’m a realist. I struggled with it, but in the end, I decided to learn to live with it.
Last night, we made the final plans. We’re bringing the 22 year-old into our home; Fred’s going to move her onto Crooked Acres, trailer and all. I don’t know that this great love affair of his is going to last for long – in fact, I expect it won’t, that this time next year she’ll be a faint memory. But I’ve committed to dealing with it. He works hard, he does very little for himself, I owe him this, don’t I?
Just call me Tennille.
(Read more about the homewrecker here.)
Yesterday morning, I hit the ground running. I changed the sheets on both our beds, I washed the sheets and hung them out, I vacuumed the house, I canned green beans and pickled jalapeno slices for Fred.
But really, I was just waiting for the call, and late morning, I got it…
There are six of them – five boys, one girl. One black, five brown tabbies. They are pitiful little things with super-goopy eyes. I’m hitting them up several times a day with ointment in their eyes, and though I’ve had them less than a day, I can already see improvement in their eyes.
They’re not super friendly, but a couple of them have let me rub their bellies. It’s funny – when I’m in the room with them they’ll occasionally come by and allow me to pet them, but for the most part they ignore me. The instant I step out of the room, though, they line up at the doorway and meow pitifully, like “Where you go? What you doing? WHY WOULD YOU ABANDON US???”
I haven’t really started thinking of names – I can’t tell them apart at this point, though there are one or two that I can recognize by sight. The largest of the litter, for one, the one with a hernia (and a white diamond on his nose) and, of course, the little black one. The other three, though, are brown tabbies who look an awful lot alike. It’ll take me a day or two to tell the difference between them, I imagine, and then I’ll be amazed that there was ever a time when I couldn’t.
It’s so nice to have babies back in the house, I can’t even begin to tell you!
So, yeah. Yesterday was an eventful day. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to haul Newt to the vet. It’s always something, isn’t it?
Would you believe that even with the Victorian collar on, Sugarbutt was able to lick his toes? So we put the Bite-Not collar *and* the Victorian collar on, and it seems to have done the trick. Don’t feel too bad for him, he’s been getting oodles of extra love and treats and spending his time stretched across my desk getting belly rubs.
Previously:
2008: Yeah, I don’t believe me either.
2007: No entry.
2006: The man KNOWS romantic conversation, doesn’t he?
2005: That Jane, she’s a smart and wily one.
2004: No, there are no current plans for Fredbyn offspring.
2003: I think we’re going to change Miz Poo’s name to Miz Money Pit.
2002: No entry.
2001: Picture entry.
2000: The word of the day is shopping.