In roughly five days or so, Jackass will turn 2. Now, it seems to me we've had this cat for fucking ever, and we're talking about a fairly low-maintnance pet, here. You feed him one or twice a day, take care of his litter box every now and then, and as far as the real shit-work is concerned, that's just about it. Then I think about if he was an actual baby, just turning 2. Two years (which, like I said, seem like forever with the cat) of screaming, crying, shitting, pissing, spitting up, ear infections, teething, feeding and cleaning up after feeding, and undoubtedly a few dozen other things I'm not even thinking of. And that wouldn't even be counting the "terrible twos," which we would just be getting into. So after this long, we wouldn't even have hit the worst of it yet.
The infamous "they" say that babies grow up so fast. You blink, and they're heading off for their first day of school, blink again and they're going on their first dates, and so on until either you or the kid is dead. Apparently, if I've learned one thing through cat-ownership, it's that this sentiment is absolute bullshit.
That's why when asked if we plan to have kids someday soon, I laugh long and hard.
Wooderson
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