The Man and I both grew up with lots of animals around.  That’s partly because we both lived out in the country on a little bit of land and partly because both of our mothers are voracious animal people.  So, we’re used to the whole chicken, duck, geese, goat, cow, horse, dogs, cats, fish, rabbits (and in his case nasty, nasty rodents of various types) thing.

So when The Man and I were joined in wedded bliss, we forthrightly proclaimed that, while we doth love animals, we would abstain from the care of said creatures for now.

It’s nice.  Nice to leave the house for four hours or four days and not have to worry about leetle living things starving or, heavens help us, tearing our house apart.

But then we experienced the handy service of rent-a-cat this past weekend.  My parents went out of town and mom was worried about the momma cat and her kittens.  So, they brought them over to our abode.


And, ya’ know, it wasn’t bad.  ‘Twere actually a little fun.  They are so sweet and cute and cuddly, and I really like having a cat around in the evenings to pet and sit on the couch with.


And by the third day when the litter box is stinking…AGAIN…right after you cleaned it.  And when you show up to work with white cat hair on your navy top.  And when the cat decides to sharpen her claws on your new rug.  And the kittens cry instead of cuddle.  That’s just the time rent-a-cat goes back home.

It’s really a handy dandy little setup.  I wonder if they do rent-a-kid?  Ok, ok, just joking…maybe.