The Passing of a Little Mischief in My Life

Prelude

Frankie

Sometime in the year before we were married, one of our roommates came to us asking if it would be alright for her to cat-sit a pair of kittens for a few days.  Her friend was moving, she said, and she was worried about the tiny kittens getting lost or hurt.

Paul and I laughed. Our roommate didn’t understand that she had just adopted two cats.

Time passed and the kittens stayed. The roommate would mention from time to time that it would just be a few more days. Paul and I would laugh because she still didn’t understand that she had adopted 2 cats.

Sometimes the roommate would leave for the weekend and we, I mean Paul, would feed the kittens. “Don’t get attached.” I’d say. But who was I kidding. At the time we already had four cats between us—we each came into the relationship with two. So obviously we are the type to become attached.

Time passed some more and the kittens, as they do, became young lady cats and went into heat. The roommate asked who our vet was so she could get them fixed. Paul and I laughed because once you pay for surgery, you have definitely adopted the cats.

Our wedding was fast approaching and the roommate announced she was moving out. She was going to put the cats in a shelter if she couldn’t find a home for them. Paul and I stopped laughing. We had just adopted two more cats.