Jack has been giving me pointed looks for a few days, like I'm supposed to remember something. I knew her anniversary of joining the family was coming, but I guess I remembered it wrong. I was just sure it was the day after Veteran's Day that year, but Facebook told me differently. I guess Jackie knew better. Today is Minions of Chaos Day, a holiday that we celebrate around here. I am obligated to spend the day praising them for how big and beautiful and clever they are.
No, wait. That's every day.
But today I bought them the fancy canned cat food (not the gross, less-than-a-buck-a-can kind). I remembered their origin story to them. (We arrived at PetSmart to buy cat food for the cats we already had, to find a giant tent full of needy kittens filling the parking lot. Mr S-P set Alfred in my hands, and we fell in love at first sight. While I was off adopting the boy, the man tucked Alfred into his hoodie pocket, and got bewitched by a pair of pumpkin orange eyes staring out of a tiny black face. Thus began four years of joy.) And then I went searching through their baby pictures. I can't believe they were ever so small. Now they weigh about as much as human toddlers.
They've killed small animals in my house. They've broken irreplaceable artwork of mine, and destroyed a laptop computer. They've made Rabbit paranoid and grumpy. They've made me laugh more times than I could ever count. I wouldn't trade a moment of the last four years with them.
No comments:
Post a Comment