Yesterday I adopted a kitten that I was going to rescue about a month ago from drowning. And by that I mean the people who had it were going to drown it, but then I reasoned that I just couldn’t do it. (This reasoning happened last month.) I couldn’t afford the $250 to get him fixed, shots, etc, and if he had something he could give it to Morn. It was just irresponsible when I had a cat already to take care of. So I told the girl to just take the kittens to Petsmart if she was really afraid of her father drowning the poor things. So I guess she did, because I walked in there and there he was. My face did that pucker, squint, try-not-to-go-aww- that it sometimes does and I looked at the sheet on his cage. All his brothers had been adopted and he was alone. He had been neutered and all his shots were up to date.

Kind of sort of perfect, right?
Well, meet Pumpkin Cider. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to name him Pumpkin, or Cider, so…