Animal farm

I've written a total of 21 posts since joining the Blogosphere, and not once, until now, have I mentioned my cat. This is because, contrary to popular opinion, I am not a crazy cat lady. Somehow my sister escapes this branding, even though she has TWO cats, one of whom is fatter than your mom (sorry).

The reason I bring up my cat, Charlie, or "Chubs," is because he drools. When I come home each night, he slobbers all over me, making sure to bury his little face in my hair while doing so. When I haven't been home for one night or more, the intensity of the drool increases into a St. Bernard (Beethoven)-esque pool of grossness. In the same way that I google or WebMD all of my ailments to conclude that I am dying of an incurable disease, I googled "cat drool." And I found that my dear Chubs awaits the same deadly fates that I do. It's either gingivitis, or impending kidney failure, or possibly just an emotional reaction to the stress caused by my periodical absence. I'm going to go with the latter, because I can't afford the others. Possibly gingivitis, but if I start brushing my cat's teeth, then I'm definitely a cat lady.

Also on the subject of animals...my Aunt's accidentally promiscuous horse had another baby this morning. This means my horse, Aesop, in Florida, has a sibling. Cute. I'll get to see the happy family in April.

Here's the drooling fool:


And, a little fuzzy (pun intended), but here's the little guy, Blaze. This guy was born THIS MORNING. And he's that big. I'm glad I'm not a horse mama.