yes, we had a cat.

just thought i'd go ahead and put that out there since most who didn't know act shocked when we say we had a cat.  i think that's another country vs. suburbs thing.  people up here genuinely hate cats (obviously not all people, but alot).  the way they recoil you would think we told them we had a 10 pound sewer rat living in our house.

i don't see what the big deal is.  i like cats.  but that's no surprise i guess, since i'm a friend to the animals.  picture the opening scene of Cinderella where she opens her windows and the beautiful blue birds come in and help her make her bed and she sings them a beautiful song.  only, instead of beautiful bluebirds - i have ugly blackbirds. that stand in the yard and squawk at me in disapproval because it's taking me so long to fill the feeder.  and then, instead of singing them a beautiful song, i scream and make a mad dash for the house because they dart at the feeder so fast i'm afraid they are going to peck my face off.  anyway.  back to cats.

our cat's name was, Simba.   i chose his name because he was a cute little yellow cat that reminded me of Simba from the Lion King.  wait, that's a lie.  i specifally chose a yellow cat because I have always loved the Lion King and always wanted to get a yellow cat and name him Simba.  that will probably come as quite a shock to my husband when he reads this because when we were at the shelter i made it seem like that name came to me out of divine inspiration after meeting our new little fur ball.

anyway.  we no longer have simba.  he went to live on a nice farm.  (an actual farm. not like i'm just saying "nice farm" but i really mean he died).  we had to find a new home for Simba because he wasn't very friendly.  and by not very friendly i mean, when people would come over he would show his fangs and hiss, and go up on his hind legs like a praying mantis and bat at people like a kung fu ninja.  so anyway, as leah got older we knew we had to find a new home for him before she inevitably grabbed for a fistful of yellow fur and something bad happened.

i've been told he's doing quite well in his new environment, and has become an expert huntsman of mice.  (which i'm quite impressed with since he has no claws) yeah yeah yeah, i know declawing is inhumane, blah blah blah.  but it was either getting declawed (since that's the only way jeff would let me get him) or getting the needle at the shelter we rescued him from.  see.  not so inhumane anymore.  anyway, i'm sure he did have to become an expert huntsman.  he was probably forced to reinvent himself when he tried to show all the other big barn cats that he was a kung fu ninja.

anyway, the whole reason i'm even talking about Simba is because i was cleaning pictures off of my computer the other day and came across a picture of him.  so i thought i'd let you in on a little reminiscing. i'll leave you with one last story...

so jeff is (i'm pretty sure) legally blind.  he has an incredibly strong contact prescription.  like -7 or something like that.  even his newer glasses that they made the lenses "thinner" on are a regular persons thick.  don't worry, he won't mind me saying that. he's embraced it.  i think.  anyway, Simba used to like to get up on the nightstands next to our bed in the middle of the night and knock things off.  so one night i was minding my own business and leaned over to get a drink of water.  as i sat my glass back down and turned around to lay back down - there jeff was 2 inches from my face waving his hands over his head like he's being attacked by bees.  i scream.  he yells.  we both have mild heart attacks. after recovering, i say what in the world are you doing??? he says (in all his blindness) oh, sorry.  i thought simba was over there trying to knock your water over so i was trying to scare him off the nightstand without waking you up.  well, i guess he gets an A for effort.  :)