A couple of friends were living out in the boonies eight years ago. They started seeing this feral cat who was obviously pregnant. They went on vacation, and when they came back, they saw no longer pregnant feral cat squished in the road. They wondered what had happened to the kittens. They went back toward the carport (which had no room for cars, being filled with junk), and there was a very small kitten who announced on no uncertain terms that he was hungry and cold and wanted someone to take care of him. Now. His brother, they had to go looking for and dig out from under the woodpile. But they took the boys in, bottlefed them, and named them for an Eddie Izzard sketch--Don Miguel and El Diablo. Later, they moved back into Olympia and started acquiring cats like it was going out of style; they had six, I believe. One of them expressed her displeasure at the situation by refusing to use the litter box, and one of my friends announced that he was sick of it and was going to give the lot of them to the pound. Don Miguel disappeared at about this time--we think their downstairs neighbours took him in after he'd gotten out--and I took in El Diablo to ease the situation. Four cats were easier than six after all. And so that is how and why I acquired my dear, dumb D.
"Now everyone was giving her that kind of look UFOlogists get when they suddenly say, 'Hey, if you shade your eyes you can see it is just a flock of geese after all.'"
"You can't erase icing."
"I can't believe it doesn't work! I found it on the internet, man!"