Step-Parenting: The Furry Edition

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I have an awful habit of filling a void in my life with animals. Break-up from my college boyfriend? I bought a Siberian Husky. Divorced? Buy a cat. Get married? Get rid of cat. Find yourself divorced again? Buy two cats. And so on and so forth.

Speaking of the two cats… that’s them. Salvatore and Zen Kitty. It was almost three years ago today that I brought these beautiful babes into my life. The ink wasn’t even dry on the divorce papers.

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We were a trio for about a year and a half. These two little boys watched patiently as I dated half a dozen people during my “rebound” phase. (That’s the period of time after the divorce that I decided to go on a series of 1st and second dates with zero luck.)

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Tomorrow is a big day. They will be moved to their new “permanent” home. They will officially meet their new family, which includes: One man, two teens, and three dogs.

Did you read that?

Three dogs.

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I’m not as worried about Salvatore. He’s my love bug/love bully/snuggle bunny/Garfield. A big, fluffy orange tabby that is about as easy-going as they come. He’ll curl up with just about anyone, and perhaps (maybe eventually) the dogs. What I am worried about is his need to knock over trash cans, as well as eating anything not tied down or hidden. He’s a fatty boombalatty.

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Then there is Zen Kitty, who is sincerely, not very Zen. He’s a bit of a whack- job (my whack-job.) I’m fairly certain that Xanax was invented for cats of his demeanor. He’s shy, he’s jumpy, and he’s stealthy. I can assure you, the dogs will not be a welcome sight for him. THIS concerns me.

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But that is the future… I need to get through tomorrow afternoon. Imagine, if you will, taking a lion and panther into a car.

Just take a moment and get this image.

Yeah… it’s going to go over that well.

My cats have this terrible habits of screaming and squealing and hyperventilating as soon as they are in a car. I have an almost 2 hour drive. Just let that resonate for a minute.

Then there is the issue of getting the cats into the car. I might as well forget trying to get them into a carrier, it’s like.. well.. herding cats.

My hope is that I won’t have to stop (the thought of them running for their lives terrifies me) and I also hope that once I arrive at the farm that they will allow me to transport them into the cabin. (I don’t even want to have to think about the kids or Tim accidentally letting them out….)

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I’m sending a slight plea out to the universe that Tim will be able to adjust to my children as well as I have adjusted to his dogs. Our Furry Babes are such a major part of our lives, and when you join two lives and two animal-cultures, the fusion will either be a happy little oasis or chaos of the worst kind!

Onward and upward!

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