when i leave the farm i always hear stories about it. usually these stories have to do with the animals. this time, stories were particularly centered around the two cats. james, he's never really been much of a cat man. they've grown on him, but i think his adaptability is more of a survival skill. that's because he lives with me, and i am cat-obsessed. i hold their paws when i'm sleeping, a baby talk them, i rub their bellies and feed them better food than i eat. i am a weirdo and do all kinds of funny things because of them and i can't help it. maybe it's some kind of genetic disorder: my crazy ukranian grandma and crazy aunt are breeders. i need cats. and i don't really pay any mind to their obnoxious tendencies, their hairballs and grass pukes and shedding and all. and so james, well, he puts up them. and they are lucky for that.
today began with james discovering that max had eaten a hole in the bag of dog food and splayed it all over the floor. fat bellied, he went on to be a naughty boy all day. he attacked james in a show of dominance, and persistently followed him around for food and pets. all day. chachie, she attacked an unsuspecting customer in the store, using her feet to kick at the poor guy's hand and her toothless gums to gnaw away. when the guy finally got his hand back, she went for his leg. poor james told me the stories over the phone, exasperated, with max maxxing out on his lap and the fresh ground turkey for their dinner defrosting in the kitchen. from here, it's clear to see: the animals are head of the household.