Wednesday, July 30, 2008


Leif and I found ourselves alone in our house for the first time in a very very long time. Emma was enjoying Grandma and Papa in Wisconsin and Finn went to a sleepover with two of his best friends. We fired up the grill, cooked some gorgeous steaks and enjoyed a glass of wine together. Even though the backyard is still filled with lumber and tools we were able to take in all the progress we have made on our back porch project and looked forward to a quiet evening...just the two of us.

Our evening was derailed when our contractor stopped by to check on our satisfaction with the work to date, a giddy Emma called to discuss her shopping spree with Grandma, and two kittens who have been hanging around our house for the past couple of days returned for an evening meal and some affection. Before we knew it we had uneaten steaks, two abandoned glasses of wine, a new understanding of pergolas, an earful from our daughter, and a plan to rescue some needy kittens. Ces't la Vie!

To be clear, I hate cats. In fact our cat wandered up our front steps one night and (much to my horror) laid on me; after I tried taking her to various shelters it became clear her chances of being adopted were slim. I figured she had made a bold move to change her life and we decided to keep her. We have never regretted that decision and neither has the cat despite the fact Emma named her after the naughty boy in her kindergarten class. We have seen countless stray cats and kittens since rescuing Jordan, but have never been inclined to reach out to any of them....that is until the the orange Tabby cats showed up.

The first night I made them as comfortable as possible and snapped a picture of them. They spent the night on our porch and disappeared by morning, but I knew they needed a home. I emailed the photo to my friend Steph, because I knew in my gut they were her family's cats. The next night they showed up again and I called Steph over to take a look at them. After seeing the roly poly duo she challenged me; if I could get them into a crate she would take them to the vet in the morning. Just call me the street cat trapper...

The next morning I swaggered over to Steph's house with those two crated kittens and swapped them for my son who had been sleeping over. Later in the day I learned the three month old homeless brothers had found their home with Steph, her husband, and their three kids.

Sometimes ditching a steak dinner is necessary...I am certain Whiskey and Valentine would agree.

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