I’m taking a bit of time off this week since I’m actually in the wilds of the UK. Right now. If by wilds I mean heading through Wales toward a lovely B&B with a clawfoot tub. I like to rough it.
BUT I sort of feel the need to follow up my post about Neville with one about my other cat, Socks. They are both internet-savvy, s0 I don’t want Socks to get jealous or Neville to start getting all hubristic or whatever.
My husband and I adopted Socks seven years ago, or thereabouts, back when we were still dating and had just moved in together. We had a mouse, which my boyfriend-at-the-time-husband-later named Cheddar, and Cheddar was a nosy little bastard. He enjoyed digging into the boxes in our cabinets and scaring the crap out of me when I walked from our bedroom to the kitchen in the middle of the night.
Like any sensible person, I decided we should get a cat. Cats are really just glorified mouse traps, right? It’s not like they live FOREVER and require all kinds of accessories and food and whatnot. So we went out to adopt a cat. My bf-turned-husband fell into some sort of love-trance with this cat at PetSmart, so even after I prodded him to go to the SPCA before making a decision, we ended up adopting love-trance cat. He was already named Socks, and oddly, we felt guilty changing his name, so now I try to call him cooler* things like Saki and Soccer Ball.
OK, so anyway. We all lived happily ever after, with Socks being way more in love with my husband than me for years. Basically, they have a bond that can never be broken. And my husband may or may not love Socks more than me, I’m not sure. One time we had a mattress delivered, and afterward Husband couldn’t find Socks anywhere, so he CALLED ME AT WORK and MADE ME COME HOME to look for him. I found Husband wandering through our neighborhood like a broken man, and he stayed broken until I found Socks cuddled up in Husband’s sweater in the closet. Then I had to go back to work while they cuddled.
*”Cooler” is subjective.