Saturday night, before falling asleep, we talked about some of our favorite memories and Dave brought up the night we brought home Nibbler and Squishee. Thinking back on that night, I remembered how I felt bringing them home. They were so tiny, I was so afraid I was going to break them.
I haven't gotten around to sharing my first night with them on the blog here, so I thought I would. It's probably not the most heartwarming tale you would expect...
I had to pick them up by myself from the woman we adopted them from (an incredibly kind woman who ran a little adoption place out of her house) because Dave had to work a bit late. I had bought a mini pet carrier that I knew would fit the both of them so they could be together on the ride home. I'm sure it was terrifying for them to leave the comforts of the woman's house and be stuck in a car with a stranger on a dark night (it was October when we had adopted the boys so it was darker much earlier) and I wanted to make sure they knew they still had each other.
One the way home my car stunk so bad, like someone had passed gas. I assumed that one or both of the boys had done something in the crate, as cats are notorious for doing in the car, but when I brought them inside I didn't see anything in the crate that needed to be cleaned out.
I kept the boys confined to the living room when we first came home, so they could get acclimated to Dave and I and one room for now. They were really good, and for the most part just laid on my lap or with Dave.
|Pleas ignore this ridiculously terrible picture of me, but this was me and Nibbler the first night home.|
My nervous farter (not sure who it was but I have my suspicions) stopped dropping bombs shortly after the first night together, but the memory of it always gives Dave and I a good laugh.
It's a bit random, but let's make today Memory Monday, share a great or funny memory with me!