He'll Always Take My Side

Mi esposo rocks mi mundo.

See, we were hoping to move into my parent's home while they are finishing off their mission for another year and a half, but because my dad is so not a cat person, he said we could move up to their home if we either got rid of my cats, (umm, why don't you just ask me to get rid of my left breast? It'd hurt less, and I'm not quite as attached to it!) or make them outdoor cats. ...And, what? Have them die in less than eleven days? For those of you that don't know, my parents live in the mountains, where all sorts of wild animals roam around. Seriously. Last year, my parent's neighbors were eating breakfast and happened to look out their dining room window to find two mountain lions in their backyard fighting over a deer carcass. Needless to say, they lost their appetite for their breakfast, but that's hardly the point.

So, what? Am I supposed to be okay with my cats being the next carcass the friggin' mountain lions are fighting over? I don't think so.

So I was really sad - much tears and snot were involved as I realized I wouldn't be getting out of our Pit of Despair (aka my basement apartment) to move to a beautiful new home. I thought Brandon (the esposo) would be a bit upset that the cats were the reason we wouldn't be moving, and as he pretty much dislikes them anyway, I thought he'd be all gung-ho about making the felines cougar meat.

But once again, he has proven to have gone above and beyond my expectations. Later that night, after I broke the sad, sad news to him, I came home to find that he had bought a bunch of new toys for the kitties, as well as a cute new bed they can snuggle in together. (At least, they were supposed to sleep in it together, but as Bobbi takes up the space that roughly a small foreign country uses, they can only sleep in it one at a time). But still. That's not the point. The point is that my husband wanted to show everyone in the family that he supports his crazy wee-fay's inappropriate attachment to cats by buying them toys and actually holding and petting them, (which lasted all of two minutes, till Hairy stuck her claw in his leg - but still)! My man loves me, and that means he loves all of me and is making an attempt to love the cats, because he knows how much they mean to me. And he made this huge monumental sacrifice for me - we're stuck in the Pit of Despair, but hey - we've got our love and our cats who will never know the horror of becoming cougar dujour! What more could I ask for? (Actually, I could ask that my parents change their minds, and allow the fat nasty kitty lovers to live in their home, but that's beside the point. My question was meant to be figurative, not literal).

This here is a picture of my kitties sleep-humping. Thanks to my sweet, sweet husband, there will be many more days of this beautiful sleep-humping, and it will never be tarnished with pain or hurt or mountain lions stalking them! Yay. I just love happy endings, don't you?