#fuckcancer Dodgers fan from SF UofU women’s college basketball I was a force but now I am just tired. “I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory”
They banned DIFFERENT SEASONS in Utah. Contains STAND BY ME and THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION, stories of friendship and courage. Readable by teens, too. What's wrong with these people?
A news segment showed a Facebook post from the mother of one of Nolan Wells’ friends saying how much they loved Nolan and he had been to their house a few times.
I posted this comment under the video, because this is something I’ve known and felt since childhood:
My neighbor, Ed, was ninety one. Lived alone. Had a cat named Mr. Buttons.
Ed died three weeks ago. Heart attack. Quiet. Quick.
I didn't know him well. We'd wave. Small talk about the weather. That's it.
Two days after he died, there's a knock on my door.
It's Ed's daughter. I'd never met her.
Ed's daughter: Hi. I'm Rachel. Ed's daughter.
Me: Oh. I'm so sorry for your loss.
Rachel: Thank you. I'm here about the cat.
Me: The cat?
Rachel: Mr. Buttons. My dad left instructions. He wanted you to take him.
Me: What?
Rachel: He left a note. Said you were the only person on the street who didn't hate the cat.
Me: I don't even know the cat.
Rachel: Apparently you fed him once.
I tried to remember. Then it clicked.
Six months ago, Ed was out of town. He asked if I'd feed Mr. Buttons for two days. I said yes. I fed the cat. That was it.
Me: I fed him one time.
Rachel: Well, he left the cat to you.
Me: I don't want a cat.
Rachel: Neither do I. I'm allergic.
Me: So take him to a shelter.
Rachel: He's eighteen years old. No one's going to adopt him.
Me: That's not my problem.
Rachel: Please. I'll pay for his food. I just need someone to take him.
My wife appeared behind me.
My wife: We'll take him.
Me: What?
My wife: We'll take the cat.
Rachel looked relieved.
Rachel: Really?
My wife: Yes. Bring him over.
Rachel left. I turned to my wife.
Me: We're not cat people.
My wife: Ed left you his cat. We're taking the cat.
Me: I don't want a cat.
My wife: Too bad.
An hour later, Rachel showed up with Mr. Buttons. He's the ugliest cat I've ever seen. One eye. Half a tail. Looks like he lost a fight with a lawnmower.
Rachel: He's very sweet.
She handed me a carrier and left.
I put the carrier in the living room and opened it.
Mr. Buttons walked out, looked at me, and hissed.
Me: Great.
For three days, the cat hid under the couch. Wouldn't eat. Wouldn't come out.
My wife: Maybe he's grieving.
Me: He's a cat.
My wife: Cats grieve.
On day four, I'm sitting on the couch watching TV and Mr. Buttons jumps up next to me.
Just sits there.
I didn't move.
He curled up and fell asleep.
Now he follows me everywhere. Kitchen. Garage. Bathroom.
My wife thinks it's hilarious.
My wife: He loves you.
Me: I don't love him.
My wife: Yes you do.
Last week I took him to the vet. Spent $300 on bloodwork.
The vet said he's in good shape for eighteen.
I told my wife.
My wife: See? He's going to be around for a while.
Me: That's not comforting.
Yesterday I caught myself talking to him.
Me: You want dinner?
Mr. Buttons meowed.
Me: Yeah, me too.
My wife walked in.
My wife: Are you talking to the cat?
Me: No.
She smiled.
I'm a cat person now.
I hate it.
You try opening a garbage truck door in shoe lifts and a girdle while you’re high AF wearing Depends and balancing a dead ferret on your head dressed like a ginger bread man picking up some baggage handler shifts. Sh*t aint easy, y’all. Vote Blue.
@drclairetaylor I love my electric kettle! My countrymen don’t use them? Fools! Seriously tho I was introduced to it by a coworker. She used it at her desk every day.