My Harley

I first fell in love with this little guy when I met him at one of my best friend’s house who had rescued him from another friend’s farm. When I asked my friend the cat’s name, I was told “free kitty”. Apparently he was already a trouble maker and was tormenting my friend’s other kitty constantly and relentlessly.

But this 14 pound tom cat had me from his first “meow”. I was completely smitten with him and his friendly nature so I went home that night with a plan to convince my live-in boyfriend to let me get a 3rd cat.

Well, in my defense, our second cat, Samantha was totally his, lol. She didn’t leave his side. And when he died, I think a part of her died with him.

Anyway, it was super easy to come up with a name for him… He was named after the very loud, very muscular, very bad boy Harley Davidson motorcycle. And he truly lived up to his name.

He wasn’t like any other cat I’ve ever known, more part cat, part dog, part best friend.

Harley spent 15 years with me though 5 different homes and even more boyfriends. And he was always the man of my house.

When I got pregnant with Dani, he used to sleep on my belly to be close to her. And although after she was born he kept his distance due to noise and having fitfuls of his fur grabbed at the most inopportune moments, he loved her because she was mine.

And if there’s ever been a man’s love that I absolutely knew was complete and unconditional, it was Harley’s love for me.

But yesterday I had to send my best friend, my familiar, and the man in my life back to the stars.

I miss you my little man, you will forever be in my heart. And Dani and I will always look for you in the night sky… our very furry, orange guardian angel. Rest in peace.


Secret Girlfriends

Telling me that you’re divorced but neglecting to mention the girlfriend you just adopted a puppy with over Christmas is not going to get you a first date… with me anyway.

Thanksgiving Dreams

Thanksgiving has never been one of my favorite holidays. I love to eat, so I’ve always enjoyed the food but I think it’s barbaric to celebrate mass genocide.

Anyway, I received an invitation for thanksgiving dinner from my sister that I haven’t talked to in over a year that went something like this…

“Hey look I know we have our differences and have both said horrible things to each other so that being said. I think we should forgive and forget for our parents sake at thanksgiving so here is your formal invite.”

Unfortunately her memory of what she and I both said in our last conversation has eluded her. Luckily I saved the texts so that I wouldn’t forget that she not only justified my sexual assault at 16 as something that “all woman go through” and that only open-minded people like trump can “grab her pussy”.

Oh, and “Don’t come crawling when you need something because this is one sister that won’t be there.”

I was called a bigoted bitch because I wouldn’t tolerate her support for a bigoted, racist, narcissist who brags about sexually assaulting women. 

I’ll never understand women who voted for trump. 

And I’ll never forgive them. 

These women set back equality a hundred years and spit all over Alice Paul’s grave. 

So, I’m not sorry but I’m definitely not interested in having dinner at my sister’s. Check your texts sister, you were the only one name calling and victim blaming. Not me. I owe you no apology.