Moaning Myrtle

I am not going to comment (beyond this sentence) about how long it has been since I have posted, and I will not make excuses not will I promise future posts. Life has been busy, but here I have a moment to write about one of many, many goings-on that make life so great. To start, Joe and I just ended an incredible summer together. It began in May with the official end of his second year of law school and a move from the hobbit hole on State to a house 2 miles north of it. While we miss our first home as a married couple, we could not be happier with our new (and old -- this is the house I grew up in) house!

In July, Joe and I took a trip to the Humane Society of Utah and picked out a cat. We wound up with a darling 2-year-old tabby named Veria (My theory is that she belonged to a little, old lady who had to give her up when she moved to a retirement home... Because, well, 'Veria'? Really?). We brought her home and immediately started calling her Eunice (as in What's Up, Doc?), but that didn't last long. Eunice high-tailed it for the space behind the toilet when we let her out of the tote and could not easily be persuaded out for several days. We decided that she was haunting the toilet -- you know, sitting in the u-bend, thinking about death. So we called her [Moaning] Myrtle. Or, when she's in trouble, Myrtle Eunice Johnson.

I'm quite sure my taking her to the vet for the visit that I agreed to in the adoption contract did nothing to alleviate her nerves. For weeks, she probably believed that anytime I gave her a treat, I was tricking her into a ride in a non-air conditioned car to have a needle thrust in her leg and a thermometer shoved up her butt. Despite that unpleasant adventure, however, she's adjusting very well to her new home. We love playing with her, despite the fact that her new favorite game is attacking feet from under the bed and her most active hours are between 5 and 9 AM.

There you have it; we are officially parents now! Well, besides the fact that our new daughter cleans herself, has some degree of built-in portion control when eating, is litter trained, and can be left at home alone over a weekend, we are.