I got to tell ya'll how much of a horrible shitstorm my weekend was.
So we had this horrible storm on Wednesday night. My backyard looks like Hurricane Katrina went through it.
So after a horrible, harrowing journey home in the thick of it, driving my car through, no lie, WHITE FREAKING WATER to get home, wondering if I'm going to be swept to my death and drown in my car, I make it home. I'm stripping off my sodden clothes when I hear little animal noises out inside my window.
Yeah. Three newborn kittens. Feral mama cat sort of soaked and too weak to hardly move, babies in the mud, cold, soaked, half drowned. Now, I don't want any cats, okay? But I can't just leave them there, so I rescue them all. Put them in the laundry room (outside) in a basket, with a warming pad, feed mamma, etc.
I don't know what I"m gonna do with these damn cats, but I can hardly put them out. The babies actually survive the night.
Fast forward to Saturday morning. When she bit me.
So now I got a fucking situation on my hands. This is a freaking feral cat, and we got us some rabies down here. And I should have known better. But what the fuck was I supposed to do? So I call the number of the shelter, where they come get the cats and observe them to make sure I don't, you know, have frigging RABIES now. And they're all like "oh, we'll put the babies in with the mama, don't worry."
But you know what? That's HORSESHIT. No they fucking don't. They gas them right off the bat. And maybe I would have done things differently had I known that, I don't know. I just don't. But you know what? The last thing I needed on top of every other damn thing was a baldfaced lie thrown on top of it all.
So yeah. There you go. My weekend. Nice. Hope I'm not, you know, DYING.
It was my birthday, too. Happy fucking birthday.
So I guess it should come as no big shock I had a nice hangover this morning.
So we had this horrible storm on Wednesday night. My backyard looks like Hurricane Katrina went through it.
So after a horrible, harrowing journey home in the thick of it, driving my car through, no lie, WHITE FREAKING WATER to get home, wondering if I'm going to be swept to my death and drown in my car, I make it home. I'm stripping off my sodden clothes when I hear little animal noises out inside my window.
Yeah. Three newborn kittens. Feral mama cat sort of soaked and too weak to hardly move, babies in the mud, cold, soaked, half drowned. Now, I don't want any cats, okay? But I can't just leave them there, so I rescue them all. Put them in the laundry room (outside) in a basket, with a warming pad, feed mamma, etc.
I don't know what I"m gonna do with these damn cats, but I can hardly put them out. The babies actually survive the night.
Fast forward to Saturday morning. When she bit me.
So now I got a fucking situation on my hands. This is a freaking feral cat, and we got us some rabies down here. And I should have known better. But what the fuck was I supposed to do? So I call the number of the shelter, where they come get the cats and observe them to make sure I don't, you know, have frigging RABIES now. And they're all like "oh, we'll put the babies in with the mama, don't worry."
But you know what? That's HORSESHIT. No they fucking don't. They gas them right off the bat. And maybe I would have done things differently had I known that, I don't know. I just don't. But you know what? The last thing I needed on top of every other damn thing was a baldfaced lie thrown on top of it all.
So yeah. There you go. My weekend. Nice. Hope I'm not, you know, DYING.
It was my birthday, too. Happy fucking birthday.
So I guess it should come as no big shock I had a nice hangover this morning.
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