...your wife gets a volume discount on spaying and neutering.
...your wife fixes scrambled eggs for said feral cats and delivers their piping hot meal to the abandoned home under which they live.
...your wife takes a plush padded cat bed to said cats for them to sleep in underneath said abandoned home.
...your wife keeps a litter box in your barn for the cats that live there, despite the fact that the barn has a dirt floor. Despite the fact that the stalls in the barn are deeply lined with wood shavings. Despite the fact that the barn holds heaping piles of hay. Despite the fact that you own 22 acres of earth in which they can poop. Despite the fact that your property abuts hundreds of thousands of acres of the Jefferson National Forest that they can poop in. No. You have to buy kitty litter for them.
...your wife continues to buy cat toys – for your barn cats.
...your wife won’t allow the garage door to be closed (ever) because another stray cat – yet to be snared – visits the garage at night and expects his Kit & Kaboodle and fresh water to be there.
...you walk into your office and there is a kitty playhouse in each corner, two cat towers near the door, two kitty boxes for them to sleep in and three litter boxes under the stairs!
...your wife runs out of Lord of the Rings characters after which to name all your new cats.
...you know that the next time you drive down the gravel road and come upon more cute and cuddly little kitties that some lowlife (who will rot in hell) has dumped there, that your family is about to be enlarged – forever.
*** Yeah, that photo is of Paula and six of her cats sleeping in my bed.
