Thanks to the miracle of social media I got to follow the birth of some beautiful kittens this morning!
Back story: A pregnant stray cat adopted a friend of mine. The vet and confirmed no microchip and no titers indicating previous vaccines so she stepped up like a bad ass and became a cat doula. She did what all amazing cat doulas do and set up a group so that admirers of said pregnant cat could follow along on the journey. Said pregnant cat has not yet been named, it’s being debated. I have suggested Catty LaBelle, Feline Dion and Cleocatra because I’m very helpful like that. I also attempted to search for “pregnant cat names” and google thought I’d be interested in “pregnant cat nipples” so there’s that.
Of course, Newton’s theory of relativity (or law? Or what’s that one that means “of fucking course it is”) dictated that today was the ONLY day this week I had to be in a work meeting at 10 am. The pain of this was eased slightly by the fact that it was an informal meeting and I got to conduct business with a filter called “magicorn” which gave me a cartoon unicorn horn to wear while I conducted business. So due to adult responsibilities, I missed the birth of the first three kittens. Kids, growing up is terrible. Don’t do it.
Luckily I was able to spot check for the births of the 4th and 5th kittens and then keep up with the story during lunch. Some people might use their lunch time for errands or a pedicure, I use mine to stalk the internet for cat birth updates because you have to have priorities in life and today, kittens are mine. Now that I know all kittens and mama are doing well I can resume semi-normal brain activity.
Except I couldn’t. I was on a high from the miracle of birth. I decided another cup of coffee was in order and wandered to the kitchen to find that not only had my children used a bowl of water to melt a bath bomb (taking all the fun out of the next bath) but that somehow the bowl of bomb water appeared to have exploded and dried leaving behind white powder EVERYWHERE. Like, its up on the windows behind my sink too. I mean, I assume it was the bath bomb water or Sid was having a cocaine party without me, in which case we are fighting.*
*Foot note- We don’t do cocaine so we probably aren’t fighting.