Ever since I went and got Sugarbutt and brought him home from the vet’s, Fred has made it clear to me that we were NOT adopting him. I’d say something about how cute Sugarbutt was, playing with Tom Cullen, and Fred would say “Yeah, Tom Cullen sure is going to miss Sugarbutt when he goes to be adopted!”
Over the last week, I’ve stopped saying anything about the possibility of Sugarbutt (I was really dropping very broad, very strong hints about it), in hopes that without any pressure from me or anyone else, Fred would come to the conclusion that we should adopt Sugarbutt all on his own.
Every day I dreaded opening my email, afraid that there’d be one from the shelter manager telling me that it was time to take Sugarbutt to the pet store. And every time y’all left a “PLEASE adopt Sugarbutt!” comment, I cringed. Because Fred? Doesn’t like the peer pressure. AT ALL. And I was afraid he’d be all “You can’t tell me what to do! Sugarbutt GOES!” Which is why, you might or might not have noticed, I didn’t respond to those comments, in hopes that if I didn’t bring any more attention to them, Fred might not really notice them.
Anyway, last night we were laying down after dinner, chatting about this and that, and I just got the feeling that it was time for a serious discussion.
“Can we have a serious discussion about something?” I said.
“If we must,” he said.
“What can I do to convince you to adopt Sugarbutt?” I was willing, y’all, to do ANYTHING. I was willing to get a job, to swear to stop buying books forever, write the novel he’s always pushing me to write. ANYTHING.
He sighed. I steeled myself to hear him remind me that I’d sworn, back when we started fostering kittens, that I wouldn’t beg to keep any of the kittens we fostered. I thought maybe he’d say “Have Miz Poo put to sleep, and you can keep Sugarbutt” (not that he really wants Miz Poo put to sleep; he just knows there’s no way on god’s green earth I’d agree to that. She’s my BAYBEE!). I didn’t know what he’d say, but from the sound of that sigh, it didn’t look good.
“Please. I decided a week ago we were going to adopt him, I’ve just been torturing you.”
Then he went on to say “But no more foster kittens again, ever.” and when I pushed him he said it was because he was afraid we’d end up with 20 cats, and I swore that if I ever seriously tried to get him to let me adopt another foster kitten, he could pack up Miz Poo, drive me to the vet, and I’d take her in and have her put to sleep myself. He relented, but I have to put the promise in writing and sign it.
So Sugarbutt is joining the family! And I still get to foster kittens, though not ’til sometime next Spring! Woohoo!