I think I'm in my angry phase.
Yesterday I felt very bitter and unloved, and if I were in the movie Arthur, Hobson would have taken off my racing helmet and slapped me. I was mad at Marvin, and at other people who I thought cared about me who it turns out do not give two shits about me, and the whole thing made me feel just awful. Which I guess is normal but it is still an unfun feeling.
Perhaps having three days off is not such a good idea for me right at this juncture.
At any rate, it was time to walk the dogs, and I was walking and crying. I am certain I did not look berserk at all, two ludicrous dogs pulling me down the street because I am not remotely an alpha anything, not even alphabet soup, while my face was all contorted and I was all sobby. I have no idea why no one came out and asked me on a date.
A few blocks down, I heard the familiar refrain.
"HI, LAULUUULAH!"
Not only were the loud children who own Snowflake outside, but two of their cousins were over, too. Somehow when the cousins are visiting, the volume increases about three thousandfold.
"CAN WE PET YUR DAWG?"
We go through this every day. They always want to pet my dog, but my dogs hate Snowflake and Snowflake hates them, so I always have to explain that I do not want them to get bitten by my dogs while my dogs are busy snarling at Snowflake and the totally innocent Goldilocks, Snowflake's husband. The kids have decided the new puppy is Snowflake's husband, which makes Snowflake a total cougar and I am kind of proud of her.
Snowflake. In case you have no idea who the hell Snowflake is.
However, yesterday, their dad totally had Snowflake all splayed out on a table, shaving her rather lengthy fur for the summer. You know. It's Memorial Day weekend. Some of us get our white shoes out. Some of us splay our white dog and get out our Furbee or whatever.
"I paid fur this last tyyme," said dad. I could not believe Snowflake just splayed there and let him do it. My dogs would have been sliced to bits like that guy in the Pink Floyd movie, they would've been squirming so much.
At any rate, the kids were very excited that they all had lip gloss on, and they told me about their Barbie lip gloss-maker. Which made me re-enter my bitter phase. Why didn't they have lip gloss-makers when I was a kid? Okay, so lip gloss itself had not been invented yet. Still. I would have been all up in that.
Somehow in our deep conversation, as they petted Tallulah and Edsel cowered behind my legs, I mentioned to them that I have new kittens.
"KIN WE SEE 'EM?"
"Well, sure, I guess. Maybe some day I can bring one by."
"NOW!?!?!?"
And that is how I walked home, got in the car with Roger, and this happened:
I cannot tell you what a trouper Roger was. They fought over him, they held him wrong, they asked if they could slide down the slide with him (no), they twirled around with him, and he just LET them.
Perhaps he was just too frozen in terror to do anything. Look at his scared, spready feets. And by the way, I know I am a creepy perv, taking photos of the neighbor children, but have I not TOLD you what a little button that youngest one is? Ohmygod. What a patootie. She is almost a kitten, she is so cute.
The girls were quick to point out to me that their cousin had to wear a girl shirt because his got dirty. Also, the oldest girl broke her wrist on a field trip at school. She says it doesn't hurt. They are tough. As is Roger.
So, I hate to say it, but I was cheered up by children. Loud Southern children. Who hold cats wrong.
I am not sure that Roger can say the same.
