I love my cat

I could literally leave this post at just that.  I love my cat, she’s better than all pets on earth, no arguing.

On Christmas Day 2014, I decided that I wanted to spend the next day at shelters, just looking at cats (THIS IS NEVER A GOOD IDEA). I didn’t plan on adopting one that day (ha!).

Our first stop was a smaller shelter about 20 miles away.  I had looked online at the cats they had rescued, and there was an adorable little orange kitten that I wanted to name Henry or Alfred.  My sister’s attention was drawn to a little gray fluffball named Haddie.

The second I got there I bee lined for the little orange cat.  He was asleep, and had 0 interest in me.  I wandered over to where my sister was playing with the little gray cat. She immediately started licking my hand.  I asked if we could take her out of the cage as she was basically trying to break out at that point.

We took her into a playroom and she immediately climbed on my shirt and started licking my face.  She was mine.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to adopt her that day.  My landlord hadn’t called back to confirm that I was permitted to have a pet in her house.  I was told I could come back the next morning and adopt her then.

The shelter opened at noon the next day, and I was in the parking lot waiting at 11:45.  My landlord never called.  I left her six voicemails.  The shelter saw my desperation as a pesky four year started inching closer to her cage.  They said they would move forward as long as my landlord called by the end of the day.  I packed her up that night and made the drive back to DC from Pennsylvania with my little sidekick by my side.

Until that day, I didn’t know what it meant to have something to look forward to when I got home.  No matter how bad my day was, I knew that I would have my adorable little gray kitty waiting to snuggle and give kisses as soon as I got home.  To be honest, I wasn’t even sure that I could love a living thing that much.  Trouble sleeping?  No problem, she turns herself into big spoon and puts her paws on your back to keep you relaxed.

Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for this little snuggle monster that has been, by far, the biggest blessing I’ve ever had in my life.




A blog a day keeps the doctor away

This Christmas has been a strange one.  For many reasons, our family has seemed disjointed.  Whether this is good or bad, I’ve used this time to keep my focus away from some of the negativity and focus on myself and reflecting on the past year.

2016 has been busy.  If you cannot tell by the number of blog posts I’ve written, I have been working like a crazy person.  Maybe with no results and maybe with some.  It’s been tough, and I’ve realize that I’m not happy with what I’ve done with this past year.

I feel very average.  I’ve made 0 progress on my fitness goals, 0 progress on my writing goals, 0 progress on social media goals (it pains me to say that even as a millennial). I’ve made some progress in my job, but for every step of progress there is a French man in the background tearing it down.

Is average bad?  No, it’s not.  But at what point do you settle for average?  At what point do you silence that little piece of your brain taunting you, that you want to have the whole world in front of you, but you’re okay with what is on the plate directly in front of you?

I’m not ready for that. I am eternally grateful for the life I’ve been given, but does that mean settling?

I don’t believe in New Years resolutions. I will start today though with my first:

A blog a day keeps the doctor away.

I always want to write more.  About DC, about life, about battling with anxiety and depression, about always being a small fish in a big pond, and of course about Bailey Bear.

So while my blog may be painstakingly average and talk about work and attempting to try every amazing pasta dish in the DC, Baltimore, and Pittsburgh area, at least it will be something to be accomplished in 2017.