Dr. Doolittle, I presume

Chelsey and Doug are finally married. The wedding was a blast and went off pretty much without a hitch, everything was beautiful, and they have great families.

As Christine was the matron of honor and I was the gofer (a.k.a. bridal bitch, or “bridle bitch” when I write emails too early in the morning), you can imagine that it was an extremely busy weekend. My job was to run errands and take care of as many of the little details as I could. I’m happy to do it and had fun, and it’s Tuesday and I’m still exhausted.

But now the real fun begins. Christine and I have two cats, Murphy and Mona. Doug and Chelsey have two Bichons, Porsche and Scout. We’re dogsitting while they honeymoon in Ireland. Add to that Kymberlie’s (outdoor, thankfully) cat Bella – full name Isabella Muffinchop – who is also living with us as of this weekend and now I live in a zoo. Everybody sort of gets along, assuming they don’t come into any real contact with each other. They haven’t fought, just a good dose of barking and hissing.

Hm. Maybe I can run some Island-of-Dr.-Moreau experiments in the garage…

UPDATE: After reading my own post, that’s much less coherent than I’d thought. Mikey go sleep now.