The Infestation Continues

Several months ago, a small cat started hanging out near our apartment. Anael, having a soft spot for cats, decided to start letting it in our apartment and feeding it. I was opposed to this on a very basic level. However, the cat (who we affectionately named "Little F*cker") appeared to be an abandoned house cat. She was good around people, clean, and relatively polite. And, kicking her out of the apartment gave me endless pleasure.

Like Mr. Banks kicking out DJ Jazzy Jeff, but with claws.

Our landlord had already forbidden us from having a cat in the apartment, which Anael, in his typically French way, politely ignored at every turn. So, a few weeks ago, we noticed Little F*cker (or LF) began to look kinda fat. I chose to ignore the obvious, hoping that she was just a gluttonous little pig and that she didn't have a progressively larger distended belly every time I saw her...

Jeez, lay off the carbs. Maybe we should have named her Little Porker...

We knew that she was going to pop soon, and like any good animal lovers, we wanted nothing to do with it. We decided to take LF to the rich neighborhood of Amman and leave her there, hoping the food scraps would be enough to provide her new kittens with the gross, garbage sustenance they need.

People gotta eat, even Shame Dog.

Well, God has a way of laughing at your plans, because the night we were going to toss her out on the streets like the Good Lord intended, her water broke all over our floor.

Let's just say that this is what it looked like...

A few hours later, the amount of cats in our apartment had quintupled.

That means four kittens. 4 + 1 = 5

Here is our maternity ward. MORE THAN WHAT SHE DESERVES.

Please, come take one.

Absent, deadbeat dad, living off of handouts, popping out kids everywhere with no plan for the future...what a horrible mother.

"Whatever Greg." Typical F*cker.