Cool cat…something about a kitty…

So, a couple of days ago, The Captain and I went in to the city to do some grocery shopping, and on the way home, we stopped at the local humane society. Just, you know, to *browse*. Because browsing at one’s local humane society is completely normal and everybody does it, even if they’re not supposed to be looking at dogs because SOMEONE thinks getting a dog is a Bad Idea even though everyone else knows it’s a really good idea, including the cat*. And just because you’re not SUPPOSED to be looking at dogs doesn’t mean you don’t ACTUALLY look at dogs. And even though the puppies section includes many ADORABLE puppies, we’re not GETTING a puppy, because as I’ve mentioned elsewhere, I’ve toilet trained two dogs and two humans and ElBne, and I don’t much want to toilet train another thing if I can help it, until I’m a grandmother and have incentive and shit. Well, not literal shit. Well, okay, actually, yes. Literal shit.

ANYWAY.

We may have ACCIDENTALLY looked at some cats. I honestly don’t know how that happened. I mean, we were GROCERY shopping. How we got to the Humane Society and their Bin O’Cats is beyond me.

And it occurred to us…well. Mostly to me, that the last cat we got was Mungbrain the Cat, and that The Nipper’s favourite cat was Tau, and Tau died two years ago, and that The Nipper is probably old enough to take care of a cat, considering one of his chores is to feed and water Mungbrain…and then this happened:

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By which I mean that The Captain thought this little bean would be a good addition to our family. We wanted to bring her home that night, but the Humane Society was closing, and they had to do some kind of thing to make sure our names weren’t listed on the “seals cats in amber for nefarious purposes” list (which is kind of like the pre-serial killer list, I guess). So we couldn’t take her home that night.

Because I am horrible at delayed gratification, I went back AT NINE AM IN THE MORNING the next day. Then “they” told me that “they” don’t open for adoptions until noon, and would I like to have a seat until noon? It was cupcake day, you know, and I could have had cupcakes (for a buck a pop). I know you think you know where this is going. You think I plunked my prodigious arse down in one of the comfy chairs beside the cupcakes and proceeded to spend MY ENTIRE ALLOWANCE on baked goods. Well I didn’t. Neither did I just sort of pine around the dog kennels, looking wistfully at the staffordshire terrier who had JUST BEEN ADOPTED and wishing I could fit her under my jacket (and I would have got away with it too, if it hadn’t been for those meddling kids). But I did go back at the crack of noon (after spending WAY TOO MUCH MONEY ON UNNECESSARY STUFF – this is why I need adult supervision, you guys. I CAN NOT BE LEFT TO MY OWN DEVICES) and stuff little bean into my shirt.

They…um…they look at you funny when you do that, so I let them pack her into a cardboard box and I brought her home, where His Nibs glanced up from the couch and said, “why are you carrying a box that miaows?”

And I said, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

When The Nipper got home from school that day, we popped the kitten back in the box and let him open it.***** Then a whole bunch of cuddles and smiles happened, and Mungbrain the Cat was nowhere to be seen. Today, we let Lady Edith Tiddlybottom the Third, Duchess of Blur out for a bit of a romp, and I think the cats will get along okay. As I mentioned in this video clip, their meeting behaviour was reminiscent of every date I ever went on.

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*I’m pretty sure the cat doesn’t actually think it’s a good idea to get a dog.**

**I’m not entirely convinced the cat actually thinks, to be honest with you.***

***It’s not that the cat is particularly stupid, but there’s a reason he’s called Mungbrain.****

****Mungbrain isn’t actually his name.

*****We let The Nipper open the box, not the kitten. Opening kittens is something best left to trained kitten-opening professionals. And Dexter.

cenobyte
cenobyte is a writer, editor, blogger, and super genius from Saskatchewan, Canada.

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i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

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