Six years ago today, my daughter called on her way home from hiking in a national park to ask if I knew anything about cats having kittens. When I said, WHY? she admitted that an abandoned pregnant cat she'd rescued from the park was at that moment having kittens in the backseat of her car, barreling down the Interstate toward New Orleans.
My first thought was, Oh, God; I'm going to get stuck with them.
"Don't worry," she said. "I'll find homes for them," she said.
Happy Birthday, Peanut, Roscoe, and Whiskies!