There's an illicit affair going on in our garage and its not between me and my new boots. It's a real life sordid romance. A unnatural story that crosses the tracks and would make any mother shudder.
Last night, Warren (the cat) was out way past curfew. We called and called. He wouldn't answer and he wouldn't come home. A lesson from motherhood told me, "You gotta let go. He's a grown man now. Say a prayer and go to sleep."
I put the rest of the animals to bed. Scout on his homeless-man box bed and Dakota in her crate. She loves her crate and her special blankie and guards them both ferociously. It's her special place and she doesn't share it with anyone. I went to bed with Daddy assuring me Warren would be fine. He would find a warm place he said.
Early this morning while sending Big off to school, I stopped by Dakota's crate to see if she was ready to go out yet. To my surprise, I found Warren snuggled up with Dakota inside her crate. Their hair was all shuffled. Their faces said it all. They had spent the night together and they weren't apologizing for it. I almost felt awkward as I gawked at their brazenness but then I remembered, I was the mother in the situation. It was them who should apologize! Neither one of them did though. I opened the door and in true male fashion, Warren busted outta there like he was on fire.
Poor Dakota. I should've warned her about being too easy. Warren is an old cat. He's been around. She's just a young pup. So naive. Ahhh, don't worry sweet girl. Time is a good friend. Your heart will mend. Next time, maybe you'll listen to your mama when I tell you he's no good for you.