The beginning...

The blog starts today. Today is as good a day as any since it is my 33rd birthday. Let me tell you how I spent the stroke of midnight for my b-day.

At approximately 11:24 PM, I was on my way home from my reserve job. I got the munchies so I decided to roll past the local McDonald's and get a double cheeseburger and a small fry. Both are only $1 each. As I'm about to pull into the drive-thru, I noticed several stray kittens huddled in the back corner of the parking lot next to some landscaping. Hell no, I think to myself. These kittens can't live like this. I immediately put ordering on hold and attempt to talk to the kittens. As soon as I approach, one of the kittens darts off. I talk to a light orange and white cat for about 15 minutes. I try to convince him/her not to be afraid; that it should come home with me; I would treat him/her like a princess; and he/she would lead the most comfortable life imaginable. My pleas fell on deaf kitten ears and the closer I got, the more the kitten ran away.

I decided to abandon my efforts and get the double cheeseburger and small fry. The fries are quite tasty. The kittens might be hungry. I drive around again to give it one more shot. Again, I plead with them..."At least
one of you should abandon this dismal parking lot in favor of a luxurious life with me?!" No response. They only shy away. I dangle a french fry in an attempt to entice one of them towards me. Nothing.

I look down at my watch. The clock has just now struck midnight and I'm officially a year older but certainly not wiser as I have spent 30 minutes in a McDonald's parking lot talking to unreceptive kittens. I head back to my car in defeat. A man waiting in the drive-thru line asks me, "Is everything alright?". From his vantage point, he probably couldn't see the kittens and is wondering why an Air Force major (I'm still wearing my uniform) is dangling a french fry and talking to the plants in the grungy back corner of the McDonald's parking lot.

"It's stray cats. I'm trying to get 'em!", I yell back. He does not respond. I wolf down my cheeseburger and fries while driving home. My uniform has the distinct smell of cat feces or better still, cat urine. I no doubt sat in some at some point in the ordeal. Happy Birthday to me.