Even as they wake me up in the middle of the night, decide to vomit right in the center of the floor, and get under my feet a thousand times per day (especially when I'm cooking. OMG), I am also so, so grateful for my fur family.
Mike Wazowski gets top billing, both for being the most irritating and for how much I appreciate that he's still around. It's been two years since we lost Boo and thought Mike was going to follow him just days later. Two years of twice-daily sub-q fluids. Two years of steroids and vitamin B shots and famotidine and standing guard while he eats 4-5 times per day so Cali doesn't steal his food. When he cuddles up on my lap while I'm gaming or curls up next to me in bed and fills my ears with his rare, rusty purring, my heart swells.
We figured out that this poor guy has been stuck in the back around 1500 times over the last 24 months. And he takes it like a champ.
Since I started with the ancient one, I suppose going from oldest to youngest makes sense. I can't begin to express my thankfulness for my Cozzi-girl. My nine-year-old cuddle mutt who still plays like a puppy. She's been great with my kid from day one and she's friendly with everyone she meets, something that became even more important after we adopted Starbuck. When we're walking the dogs and kids run up and ask to pet them, the boys hang out with Cosmo while I step away with my less-trusting shelter pup.
Even when I have to clean her face multiple times per day because she just *has to* dig in the mud, I wouldn't trade my little lipoma factory (next Halloween, she's going as Lumpy Space Princess) for anything.
And then there's pukey. Miss Cali herself, who has to drink the water out of whatever dishes may be soaking, which she then regurgitates all over the carpet. But our darling girl has whiskers for days and the most adorable little 'mew,' so we forgive her.
After nearly four years, she has finally decided I'm cool enough to hang out with during the day. I've been in the step-on-your-face-while-you're-sleeping club for a while now, but this is quite the promotion. When Mike's not hogging it, my gaming lap is all hers.
Last, but most certainly *not* least is Buckles. My 65-pound baby who thinks she's a lap dog and just loves you TOO MUCH. Who sheds more than all three other pets combined and needs her butt fluff combed out at least once a week (more often would be better, but she really doesn't like it). Who has been so very patient while I wrote this but is now asking politely, but insistently, that I let her outside.
Starbuck has taught me a lot about patience in the last year. And she has rewarded me by chewing up the kid's dance shoes, stealing my seat each time I move from it, and giving me all the kisses.
We often jokingly ask why we have these guys - usually when cleaning up one of their messes or trying to do anything without tripping over a pet - but I honestly can't imagine life without them. Sure, my house would be cleaner...but it would also be quite empty.
