Let's go through some chronology here, shall we?

We had two cats. Then we moved to our current place and a family of cats just adopted us. Of the four, which I named after characters in the Rocky Horror Picture Show, only one stuck around. You may remember last summer when I reported that Brad The Female Wonder Cat had four kittens one night after a show.

And now....Brad's kittens are having kittens.

And not only that, Brad gave birth to a new litter last Saturday. And now one of the kittens in the first litter is huddled in a corner of my mother's room having MORE kittens. Of course accompanied with pathetic, pained mewing. Damn. At least Brad was quiet about it.

So, that brings us to a grand total of...*drumroll*....eight cats with some new ones on the way right now.

Yes, my mother is about to kill them all. She loves cats, she really does. But she's convinced that she's becoming the neighborhood "cat lady." To which I say that there is nothing wrong with a love for defenseless and yes, adorable creatures.

At that point she just kind of sneers and walks away.

Right now, she's actually IN her room accompaning Lynde (the kitten having more kittens) and rubbing her stomach. If a stranger barged into our house, she might actually look genuinely concerned for the cat and the welfare of its new litter.

But it is quite the opposite.

Ever since one of Brad's first kittens, June, learned to play fetch, the standard has been decreed as such: Quote. If the cat can learn to fetch and shit in the proper places, it can stay. Unquote.

But ever since Lynde gradually inflated to the size of the Goodyear blimp, my mother has just casually walked around the house muttering "Our cats are whores" under her breath.

All right. For those of you never having witnessed a cat's entrance into the world....let me tell you something. And that something is this.

Don't.Go.There.

While I probably would consider myself somewhat of a feminist, it totally disgusts me. The last time I accidentally stumbled across the cat, it had a head poking out of its ass.

That's right. A head poking out of its ass.

*full body shvier*

When I eventually do get married, I am adopting a poor starving child from the Middle East and just be done with it. And if I ever say otherwise, please just do these two things, in this order:

1) Give me a good hard smack across the face, and
2) Quote what I just said about adopting a child and also quote some statistics about how many people starve to death each year. It is sure to get me more gung ho about adoption. Anything. I'm begging you.

My mother has just informed me that we have two new cats. And apparently Lynde is not done. Let me go check.

..........

(You wait in eager anticipation...)

Okay. My mother thought that the cat had given birth to two kittens in one little sac thing. But upon further examination (that I was not a part of) we have decided we just have one so far. But the act is still very inflated and generally looking very pechulant so it's safe to say that there are probably more still coming.

My mother, for someone who ahs experienced childbirth, is still quite ignorant in the ways of those sorts of things. She is worried that the cat will try to eat its baby. And I have to gently say, "No mother, that's hamsters you're thinking of."

skrvnsgavn;slfnkalvfabjkwhlbk

That's how grossed out I am right now.

Call me immature. Call my juvenile. I really don't care. This is some seriously nasty shit.

I only like them after they're....you know, dry. Otherwise they just look like rats. Rats that I want to swat with a broom.

*shiver* Errrrggghhh.

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