Hey folks, it has been a while, no?
Yes. It has.
Here’s the thing: we have a pretty wonderful life here at MisFit Farm, but even into the most wonderful of existences a little rain must fall. And from about February right up until yesterday, we have experienced a lot of precipitation, mostly generated by tear ducts.
In sum, because I am still processing and cannot deal with a lot of these things like a reasonable adult, since February: we lost Coffee-dog, we lost Skeeter, we lost several surrogate love-puppies including Sunny the wonder-retriever and Luna the Dane elder statesman, we lost our Vet and friend, and yesterday we found out we lost my Grandmother’s Prince. As I mature into a functional human, in future endeavors, I will spiffy up previous attempts to share stories about each of these; that, my friends, is for another day.
Amongst all this death and destruction, we found other ways to fill our lives and bring us joy, because that is what we do. We have reconnected with old friends, made new ones, free-ranged goats, feebly attempted to train Bill the horse, got married, ran muddy, firey and firey-simulated obstacle courses, traveled, snuggled with puppies, and spent time with family. Just like that infamous video where I am attending to the engrossing task of brushing one dog and am unexpectedly bowled over from behind by an out-of-control Mercy, even when life knocks us on our hind ends, we have to just laugh and say, “that’s life with the MisFits.”
Well, life with the MisFits just got a little more interesting. We brought two kittens into the fold, another example of the cruel acceptance of a casual invitation. I mentioned once in passing that we might think about getting an indoor cat to help guard against possible mouse incursions. Magically, not one but three manx kittens appeared one day. Thankfully one was able to be re-homed. Not that I am a math genius or anything, but I am compelled to point out that three minus one still equals two.
Two kittens. Two playful little balls of fur. Everything is a toy or a potential toy: Electrical cords. Cotton balls. Speaker wires. Pieces of furniture. Feet. Dog tails. A potato chip that accidentally fell to the floor. I honestly had no idea how completely under-stimulating I had mistakenly believed our world to be.
K took the kittens to a “new” Vet yesterday. They were nice people, and really enjoyed the kittens. The kittens were poked, prodded and sent home with eyedrops for a little eye infection they each have. The kitten we thought might have been a female was sex re-assigned. So K brought home two fully vetted kittens: Whatsit and The Cat-Formerly-Known-as-Meg.
K is delighted. The dogs are intrigued. I am resigned. And a little amused. But don’t tell anyone I said so.