Yeah, I'm a Hard Ass

A couple of weeks ago I was looking at the boys' chore charts when I saw a new listing: "take care of rabbit." This struck me as rather odd, since we don't have a rabbit.

The next day we found ourselves at the Humane Society looking at bunnies. Frankly, rabbits never really did it for me as pets - maybe it has to do with the fact that my great grandmother's maiden name was Lagodontis, which loosely translated means "Rabbit Tooth." The boys weren't overly impressed either, so they wandered off to see the cats.

Now you may remember that last October we got a cat at the Humane Society. Meant to be an indoor cat, Athena discovered the doggy door and basically moved out. She stops by a couple of times a day to eat, but otherwise wants very little to do with us. We even learned from the neighbor kids that she's found another family to mooch food from down the street.

Nevertheless, we didn't need another cat, so I followed my dad's advice and put my foot done - we returned home without another feline, and I spent the rest of the day being about as popular with the boys as Todd Akin at Lilith Fair.

The next morning, still being shunned as an animal-hating monster, I went to a meeting and lunch. When I returned, a jubilant Niko met me at the door yammering, "Guesswhatdaddyguesswhat?" as a defiant Gus stood at the top of the stairs holding a kitten. They'd gone to the Humane Society without me.

Apollo, as the boys named him (Athena's brother in Greek mythology) is awfully cute. But I wanted nothing to do with him. As you can see, I'm a total hard ass.