Friday night Larry, Lulu, and I drove up to Oxford to spend the night and then have lunch with Larry’s parents the next day, but during the whole trip I felt sorry for Pete at home all by his lonesome. If I hadn’t seen him walk around the house looking for Lulu the other morning when she went to the vet, I think I could’ve convinced myself that he was happy to be left alone. But Pete was raised with a dog and therefore thinks he’s a dog; he follows me from room to room, runs to the back door when I get home, etc. He’s a very social kitty.

This goes hand-in-hand with the fact that I just went to the grocery store, and about halfway there I noticed a little lizard hanging on to the windshield wipers for dear life. Oh my god. You should’ve seen him. His little lizard hands and feet were wrapped around the wiper, and every few seconds he’d pop his head up to see if it was safe to move. I got off the highway so I wouldn’t have to drive so fast and therefore might buy him a few more minutes of terror-filled life. Then I started thinking that if he hopped down into the grocery store parking lot, then he would never see his lizard mother or friends again and there probably wasn’t any shrubbery for him to live in, so he was probably going to die. Fortunately he crawled down into the hood of the car and I have now convinved myself that he stayed there while I shopped, held on tight all the way home, and has now reunited with his lizard mother and is telling her about his adventure.

I’m going to go make sure my toaster isn’t depressed or anything now.