I emailed the shelter manager last night to let her know that Sugarbutt would be finishing his medication on Saturday and would be ready to be adopted whenever there’s space at the pet store. She emailed me back to let me know that they’re pretty backed up, and it could be a little while. And I emailed her back to tell her that as far as I was concerned, she could take allllll the time in the world.

If it took, like, 10 or 15 years I’d be A-OK with that.

You make him giggle.

Everyone needs a brudder to help keep him clean.

Mister Boogers shows off his mad aerobics skillz.

I was Swiffering the cobwebs off the walls and ceiling, and Sugarbutt, Tom Cullen, and Mister Boogers were FASCINATED by the Swiffer.

If that ain’t a smiling kitty, I don’t know what is. Fred had just been rubbing him under the chin.

Resting up so that he can run around like his tail is on fire.

Oh, the cuteness. It kills.

Snuggling under my desk. Because if they can’t get in the way when I want to put my feet under there, what fun would it be?

Sugarbutt is snuggling with me. And I am wearing the ugliest shirt known to man. It’s so ugly that I only wear it on days when I know I won’t be going out in public.

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