My Husband and Other Animals
Wednesday, Mar. 28, 2007 at 9:59 a.m.
On This Day in 1930, Constantinople becomes Istanbul.
And now I defy you to not sing that happy little They Might Be Giants ditty.
No.
I said no.
Anyway, the good Hubster is a little happier now about his shiny new car. I think he�s now not happy with customer service at the dealership, which is better because then he can dispense vitriol in an outward direction. He has also named the car, henceforth known as �Zuma.� And Zuma goes zoom. But not zoom zoom. That�s a different manufacturer.
Yesterday was quite blustery in the land of Arizona, with gusts up to about 50 miles an hour. It also got quite cold (for here) in the evening, and as Hubster and I watched House (a show which no viewing is complete without me shouting �It�s Sarcoid!� at the television) I kept hearing a plaintive meow outside on the back patio. I did a quick head count of meowing furbabies and ascertained that all 3.5 (Wally counts as 1.5, he�s gi-normous) were in fact in the house and so therefore, we must have a visitor. There was a cute little female tortie-and-white shorthair in our screened patio looking hungry and lost and not happy whatsoever. We suspected that she was someone�s cat because she kept crying to be let in. All stinking night. We thought she might shut up once we turned off all the lights, but to no avail. So we set out food and water and a fuzzy cat bed and a blankie to keep her warm. She was still there this morning, the little devil, and Gypsy kept forgetting to go piddle because she was just too interested in that little kitty! I finally had to leash the dog and drag out into the backyard.
I already asked Hubster if we could keep her. He said no.
He�s such a poophead sometimes.
Really, though, I need to remember that the Hubster is mostly a good guy. After all, I could be married to him:
Or him:
Or god forbid, even him:
