Sometimes when he's not being an ass he is really smart.

A few years ago I talked Dennis into letting me get an outside cat to control the mouse population around our property because a mouse got into the kitchen and chewed up some spatulas in the drawer and I had to burn down the house.

If you think I really burned down my house you need to leave.

Me: I want an outside cat to keep the mice out of the house.

Dennis: No.

We got Henry from a friend's herd of inbred barn cats. He was terrified of us and spent the first week in the tippy-top of a super tall cottonwood tree, then fell out but he was okay. Within three months we found out Henry was a she, and a mama, and Voila we had four outside cats.

When we had her spayed, the tech told me she had an abscess in her mouth that may someday bother her when she eats, so when she didn't come running for her breakfast yesterday I thought This is it, but it turns out she's a murderer. A baby murderer who has been eating some of the fledglings who are coming to the bird feeders with their parents.

Me: *pouting*

Dennis: Uh...she's a cat. Cats eat birds.

After Dennis and the oldest made fun of me for being so sad about the dead birds he suggested I put a little fence around the feeders, so at least Henry will have to jump it to get the birds who eat off the ground, and that might buy them enough time to fly away. Sometimes when he's not being an ass he is really smart.

P.S. You are probably wondering why I didn't blame the baby bird eating on the other three cats. Tom, our favorite kitten, was hit by a car when he was a year old but not before he impregnated his sister, Mixie. After scraping Tom off the road Dennis said Mixie had to come inside to have her babies. She had two, we kept one and gave one away. Mixie and her baby, George, still live with us in the house. Owen and Henry kept each other company outside until last October when Owen disappeared. Henry couldn't care less that he's gone because she only thinks about herself.

I think I'm years away from shitting my shoes.

Two times today I peed, then stood up to pull my pants up without wiping and I'm pretty sure this is how dementia starts. One day you're going to the bathroom like a normal person and the next day you stand up and forget to wipe.

When my grandma started showing signs of dementia, my cousin's wife (a nurse) told us she would eventually not know what everyday items are used for, like someday she might look at the stove and throw some dirty laundry in there and burn her house down.

We were concerned, so we asked Social Services to do an in-home evaluation of her to certify we weren't completely mad for letting her live alone. She passed their tests, then a few days later poured fabric softener on her cornflakes, shit herself and answered the door to sign for a package with no pants and diarrhea on her shoes. We got a call from adult protective services.

I think I'm years away from shitting my shoes, but I do have moments of intense confusion that leave me momentarily unsettled, like today when I forgot to wipe my piss. Twice.

I also frequently drive around autonomously and spend about 3 terrifying seconds wondering where the hell I am before I figure it out.

There are so many more examples I'm going to talk about when I remember them, so check in again. I'll update this post as they come to me.