Grand

Last month, Jeff and I went on a trip...just the two of us to the beach to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary. (Yay us!)  Our daughter was home from college for the summer so we didn't even have to worry about getting someone to come over and care for the pets.

We had a great time and were much relaxed when we got home.

However.

When we backed in and raised the garage and started to go in the door, there was a sticky note from our child.  Here it is:

You know, it's funny how many scenarios can race through your mind in just SECONDS when you read something like that.  Here were some thoughts that flashed through my brain:

1. She broke the entire bottle of that expensive bourbon that I have up in the liquor cabinet (just moving stuff around up there, I'm sure) and was running late and left it for us to clean up.  I'm going to kill her.

2. She DRANK that expensive bottle of bourbon, realized that she'd be in trouble and then broke the bottle so that she could SAY that she was just moving it around, left the mess so that we would SEE the broken bottle, never suspect that she drank something that she KNEW I brought all the way back from Kentucky and was saving for something special and even though she's apparently an evil genius I'M GOING TO FREAKING KILL HER.

3. One (or more) of the animals vomited and she pretended that she was in a hurry and didn't have time to clean it up because she HATES cleaning up things like that, as if I don't and I cannot believe she'd just leave a mess like that to clean up when she KNOWS we'd be tired from driving all day...and okay, if my bourbon is still in the liquor cabinet, this isn't so bad but still, really?

4. I hope she didn't set anything on fire...but then, what's that got to do with watching my step?

 

All of that in the 1.5 seconds it took to turn the doorknob.  I KNOW Jeff was thinking along the same lines, because we groaned in unison as we stepped through the door and.....

 

Nothing.

 

No bourbon fumes in the air...no APPARENT puke or other pet effluent (there are worse things to "watch your step" about than a hair ball...and had she left something that horrible for me to potentially step in, I would have had to hunt her down, make her clean it up and then kill her).

 

Jeff: "Why are we watching our step?"

 

Me: "I don't know."

 

"Meep."

 

Together: "What the..."

 

"MEEEEEEP!"

 

 

Now, in the past, I MAY have upon occasion threatened Mileena's life a bit if she brought anotherdamnanimalintothishouse.

 

However.

 

That was when she lived here 24/7/365.  Now?  She's only home 'til the end of July...then it's back to college where I've already paid the pet deposit for her to take one of her other beasts with her.

So this:

 

is my very first grand-kitten.  I don't have to train her. I don't have to clean up after her. I don't have to do nothin' but cuddle and love her and then bid her adieu in just another few weeks.

 

Of course, we may have to have Mileena bring her to her "grandparents" when she comes to visit.

 

Since she made her meeping little appearance, Jeff has really come to love her.

 

Daisy seems to love her.

 

Our Golden Retriever, Simba loves her.

Libby, the chaweenie?  Not so much.

 

So everyone...introducing:

 

Nalla.

 

"It's exhausting being this cute. Oh. And Roll Tide."