Once upon a time, this really cool guy met this girl...she was owned by two cats, and he was owned by one big fat black one. They had many adventures together.
Then one of her cats died, and then a few years later, his big fat black cat died. Together, they decided to get two kittens. And that turned into a nightmare, because the babies they adopted from the Humane Society were sick. Very very sick. The fluffy one recovered, and the other one didn't. One kitten lived, one died.
Shortly after that, the really cool guy and his girl heard that the pet store had kittens. They went to see the babies, and...like the Crazy Cat People they were, they got two of them.
These kittens were healthy, and full of kittenish bedevilment. They got behind things, they get into things. They attack the older surviving kitten from the previous year. They torment and annoy the remaining older cat.
The really cool guy and the girl are, absolutely, Crazy Cat People.
Feeding time at their home involves tripping over kittens, a chorus of pathetic mews, and at least one smallish kitten attaching itself, like velcro, to my leg. The puncture wounds from tiny kitten claws are, since you asked, healing nicely.
Walking through the house is a gamble--even in broad daylight, with the lights on, with a clear path, there's a really good chance that by the time you reach your destination, there will be a kitten sliding off your foot. Or scrambling to not be underfoot. Or just for fun, jumping on your leg like David Letterman onto a Velcro Wall.
We are the Crazy Cat People.
And we laugh about it, a LOT.
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