A woman at work has a litter of three kittens that will need homes in a couple of weeks. Bill said no, but eventually having a 31-year-old woman saying, "Please? Can I? Please? Please? Bill, please can we get a kitten? Please? Huh? Yeah? Please? Please can we?..." for three weeks straight, at least four hours a day eventually wears a man down.
I'm using the "Porkfat needs a friend" routine as well. She's taken to attacking one's feet as either of us attempts to climb the stairs –– often with bloodied results. She's only started doing that since our other cat, Daily, died last March.
And since Josh and his wife, Jennie, just got a new kitten, I'm all about keeping up with the Keowns. I have a long way to go: Josh says they're the "Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt" of cats, and I have to agree. They're just one cat and a bathrobe away from becoming crazy cat lady, throwing cats at the kids who cut through their lawn on their way to school:
So, hey, Bill -- Can we? Please? Can we?
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