We have a cat named Cookie. She is a horrible excuse for a cat, but we love her. If you've ever been to my house, I know that I owe you an apology for having been bitten. It's just what she does to our guests. (I wouldn't innocently rest your arm on the couch like that, by the way, minding your own business. It's not safe.) We like to think of her as our somewhat sadistic Welcoming Committee.
And since I don't want anyone to feel left out, I'll address all the people who've never been to my house but are expecting to come someday. I'm sorry in advance. You'll be initiated, I'm sure, unless something (or someone) kills off this lunatic animal. I do have bandaids though. They have SpongeBob on them.
How did Cookie come to be this way? I'm not really sure. Jim acquired this little black cat (with menacing yellow eyes) in college. During a portion of that time, he lived in a fraternity house. I'm pretty sure that has something to do with it. As if THAT were not enough though, she came from a litter of kittens in which the majority of her siblings were eaten by their father. I'm told that Cookie hid out under a dresser in order to survive in that original house and that it was a job to get her out when Jim came to adopt. So, you can imagine that you kind of feel sorry for her. She'll takes a chunk out of your finger, though, and that feeling will pretty much go away right then.
During her kittenhood, she started to demonstrate her aggressive tendencies by stalking Jim in his dorm room as he slept. He reports having to make sure that every inch of skin was covered by the bedspread in the early morning hours as she would attack any bodypart that was left exposed and sticking out from under the covers. This included one's head.
Later, Jim thought it was a neat trick to show his dorm room guests that Cookie could use her claws to scramble up anyone's jeans (ankle to hip) on command. This was a fun game until Jim would make the mistake of wearing shorts. I think, shortly thereafter, Cookie lost her front claws to the veterinarian.
Fast forwarding to my entry into Cookie's life... she came to Florida with him when he came down after his college graduation. She lived with us, but she made it clear that she hated me and my whole existence as "the other woman." I remember lots of growling when we were in the same room with each other.
When we came back to Missouri after I graduated from college, we brought Cookie back with us, as well. Around the same time, we acquired an orange cat named Pickle. And yes, Jim and I developed our favorite children. I hold a grudge, and so does Cookie.
And that brings us to the present. Today, good grief, we STILL have this terrible cat. She vomits all over everything, sits on your chest and hurls phlegm at your face when she inevitably sneezes, and pretty much just stinks at being a good housecat. She is currently sitting in the kitchen, yowling about wanting some wet cat food. The incessant yowling is just another way she offends me. Never give your cat a taste of wet cat food, by the way. They will demand nothing else for days and days. The only reason we made this stupid move was because we ran out of dry cat food. I thought perhaps this would be a good opportunity to starve her, and thereby rid ourselves of her, but Jim insisted we go to the store. Ugh.
I know I speak really unkindly about this cat, but someday (after you make a hasty exit from our house minus your upper appendages), you may understand me better. Even despite all of this, I love her.
In honor of my own crappy cat, here's a shout out (I don't think I've ever used that phrase before) to all the bad cats of the world. Two others come to mind at the moment: SNL's Toonces, the driving cat (my mother is laughing now) and Karen, the
angry cougar behind the wheel in Talladega Nights. This was an awfully stupid movie, but when I heard, "Get down, Karen!" it totally redeemed itself.
Congratulations to Jim for his 16th overall (5th in age group) finish in the Ozark Valley Triathlon in Fayetteville, Arkansas this morning. Jim, Jack, Emma, and I all piled into Grammie and Grandpa's RV with them for the weekend and headed south to make a camping trip of it. Originally, the plan was to head north to Iowa to make a camping trip out of a different triathlon event, but the recent flooding there threw a kink in those plans at the last minute. We made the best of it with an impromptu switcharoo.
Proud and posing.
A classic incredulous Jack facial expression when he sees something that he finds particularly impressive... in this case, some big fat fish.
or puffy Cheeto eating.
Emma's six month appointment was today. Here are the baby stats: Weight - 15.2 lbs (25th percentile), Height - 26 inches (50th percentile), and Head Circumference - 17 inches (75th percentile... I attribute this to all the brainpower she's gotten from her mother. No smart aleck remarks, Jim.) 
