So last night I dreamt that I was at a play, and the entire cast was composed of cats. (Are you noticing a theme?) Needless to say they were wretched actors, and missed every one of their cues. Audience members get scooping up the cutest and running off with them. It was a short dream.
I might as well just come out and SAY IT: we're getting a cat. At least we're planning on it. Which accounts for the dreams about cats and the comparing of my son to cats and also the paillette-adorned cat sweatshirt I am wearing right now. And the cat hanging from my earlobe. Cats!
Henry insists that we name our future cat Puma. We may go with this, unless we adopt a puma, in which case it would be redundant. We will probably require a puma to deal with the mice in our kitchen, as well as the cat(s?) who broke into our basement (or, okay, slipped through the broken window that maybe we should have fixed six months ago) over Christmas to pee and poop with abandon. Because why pee outside in the grass when you can spray your blindingly noxious urine all over someone's private property? Why do we want to get a cat, again?
Oh! Hey! While I'm here, let me add that I've got a new post over at AlphaMom. If you like that sort of thing, you might want to check it out.