No Offense

Meet Salt and Pepper...

You may recall me mentioning them a time or two and explaining to you that they are the longest living goldfish eva! Seriously, the kids won them at their school carnival in 2010! November to be exact. We brought them home and popped 'em in a small little half globe of a wall-mounted fish bowl and expected they'd live for a few weeks and then die like any other normal goldfish would. Apparently Salt and Pepper aren't normal goldfish because these mofo's are still alive after 17 months. Ari calls them rock stars because they just keep going and going. And even the kids make the joke that they can't believe these fish are still living.

Salt and Pepper have even made the move from Pensacola to Destin with us, which doesn't sound impressive since it's only 40-some-odd miles but let me tell you from personal experience that it's quite a feat to drive an hour and a half with a cat roaming the car and sporadically attempting to get at the two goldfish between your legs. Wait, that sounded bad...


So I was talking to Owen the other day and he asks me the same question he asks me every time we talk, "Are Salt and Pepper still alive?"


"Yep," I replied.


Owen sighed a short, frustrated sigh and then firmly said, "No offense Salt and Pepper, but I think it's time for you to die."


I admit that I laughed because the kid was being totally innocent but at the same time a little piece of my heart broke for poor S&P, they've never done anything but swim around in their tiny little bowl and eat their little tiny food and think their tiny little thoughts and live their tiny little rock star lives and now they're being told to drop dead by a blunt 6 year old.


Tonight Salt, Pepper, and I will celebrate their 17 months of life, pick up the pieces of our hearts which were shattered by words, and end the evening with song and prayer. So Salt and Pepper, please trust me when I say that we'll push past this dark point in our lives and any other "kids say the darndest" type phrases that may slip out of my childrens' mouths. And dudes, rock on.

Xo,


Lorri

My Cat, the Hero

Jersey is my precious kitten that Seth adopted for me when we first moved to Pensacola a year and a half ago. He’s super cute and slightly sassy.

Bear is my monster puppy whom we purchased from a breeder 2 ½ years ago. He’s undeniably gorgeous and slightly clumsy.

Salt and Pepper are our two goldfish that the kids won at their school carnival when we first moved to Pensacola – A YEAR AND A HALF AGO! They are obviously part ninja considering how long they’ve lived.

I tease Seth about Bear being completely ‘special’ with his goofy, brain-cell-lacking ways. I gawk at the fish and their unusual and borderline disturbing ability to live so long (in an unfiltered bowl at that). But I rarely talk trash about my lovely kitten - although he has been known to sleep in a non-gentlemanly position and keep himself entertained with his own tail for hours. Seriously, he will jump around as if a snake is after him and all he is really doing is playing with his tail.

But last night I knew.  I knew that Jersey was just as ‘special’ as our other pets when my sweet little kitten sat, frozen like a statue, eyes glued to my wine glass for a solid five minutes. I called his name, nothing. I snapped my fingers in front of his face, nothing. I did everything I could think of to get his attention but he never winced, he just stared down the glass.

And is the tail thing really that unusual? I mean, if I had a tail I’m pretty sure I’d be fascinated by it too. Jus' sayin'

Xo,

Lor