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1 October 2007

9:59pm An email I just sent to Monica: Hi Monica, I sure think you would have enjoyed it if I called you right now, even though it's almost 10pm. I'm so humbled by your knowledge of kittens. I guess I should really take it to heart more, shouldn't I? Ha ha ha...I know nothing. I stepped in two big blobs of mooshy cat shit. Barefoot. I put down the second litter pan. Will see about having Sam help me move the giant crate upstairs tomorrow night if the little f-ers keep crappin' on the floor. Do I need to be de-wormed??? Eek. Good night! r. :-) Yeah. I got the two kittens; Will and Grace. Ack. Can’t I name some cats? What’s wrong with Angelbert Flufferdink? The little poop-meisters are 5 weeks old. Monica said to make sure to beat them good so they’ll behave. I promised her I’d smack ‘em up against the wall if I could catch them. They’re pretty easy prey. They come to me when I enter their room. They want me to hold them and pet them. I guess I’m their mom-surrogate. Good thing they’re not trying to nurse off me. Even I have my limits. No. I would NEVER hit, kick, thwack, toss, punch, tweak, flick or harm a cat. Neither would Monica. You realize we say these bad things due to our stress. We say we’ll beat them because of the irony that we never would do that, even if they cause us enough grief to want to smack them all the time! Com’ on! Don’t report me to the ASPCA! I honestly let love do the talking. The only thing I beat is my head; against the wall. And I only do that once in awhile, especially after stepping in SHIT. BAREFOOT. Now I bet I need to get de-wormed. The pill is $27 for one cat. I wonder how much it is for me? How am I going to explain this? Do I call my Doctor or my Vet? Oh, the kittens are REALLY cute and chatty. Will is a bright red tabby with a white bib and socks. His sister, Grace, is a tabbyco (tabby/calico) with cute buff left front toes. She reminds me of Squeegee. It makes me happy and sad to look at her. They’re only 5 weeks old. Not even big enough to get a good petting distance. I just hope they figure out the litter pan tonight. Next time I step in their shit, it’s gonna be hard not to feed into the irony and really give them a whack. Good night, damn it.

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