For the Love...

I've been an animal lover since I was able to take my first steps toward someone's pet and affectionately pull its tail. (They don't like that, I learned quickly.) My fondness became stronger and more complicated when allergies in our family prevented us from having any creature with fur. (That is, until the problem moved away to go to college and we eventually got a dog.) 

The moment I was on my own and had the ability to care for one, I adopted my first kitten. A new roommate's allergies quickly quashed that scene, however, and I was forced to give her up. My parents were happy to take her, though, having also suffered 18 years of my sister's oppression. (She knows I'm teasing, but I'm not sure how she would feel about me mentioning her here, so don't tell her, OK?) Heh.

Years later, with a compliant, allergy-free partner, I was free to begin bringing felines into the fold, and so I did. Three, to be overindulgent. They're all still with us: two are 14 and one is 11 and gets force fed lung disease pills twice a day. For reals.

I'm in trouble today because we've just discovered two abandoned strays on our back porch, and while they are currently squatting in a wad of blankets in our basement bathroom, they can't stay. Nope. No. No way. No, really.

Anyone...?