I took the kitties in for their yearly vaccinations this week. Buddy needs to be vaccinated because his immune system is compromised; Mitsy needs to be vaccinated so that she doesn’t catch the virus from her brother. So I always get nervous around this time of year. (You can read their story from last year.)

The vet had nothing but complements for the two of them. Buddy, in particular, always gets exclamations of surprise for his coat, which is medium-length, thick, and soft like flannel. (Mitsy’s fur is long and soft like silk. I love petting both of them at the same time.) He’s doing beautifully, now three years and three months old and healthy as can be. We hope he will stay with us for many years more.

They screamed the whole way to the vet’s office in the car — but as soon as we entered the door, they shut their traps — because there was another cat there already yelling louder than both of them. They behaved perfectly for the vet, then started screaming at me the minute I took them back to the car. Brats.

Mitsy immediately ran off to clean her leg where she received one of her vaccinations.

I decided this week to dig up an old-school picture of my dog, Rainey. She lives with my mother in California — we could bring the cats over to PA to live in our apartment, but not the Chow-Chow/black Laborador mix. She’s an absolute sweetheart (with a black-spotted tongue!), and a handful of Mom’s friends and acquaintances have threatened to steal her. I miss her a lot. We haven’t been to California since we got married just over two years ago, and probably won’t be able to make it for at least a year more.

(Yes, I blinked.) Helping Mom plant some flowers in front of her house, back in 2004.

(Cross-posted at Feministe.)