Kitten Therapy

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I'm usually a positive person. But this week has Sucked...with a capital S. I'm not sure what kind of funk the cosmic forces have gotten themselves into, but things have just been really off kilter lately. A member of my favorite band passed away a few days ago, the endorsement of my blog fell through, I got turned down for a writing job, NC's Amendment 1 passed and - as the pickle on the crap sandwich that has been my week - I read an article today about some poachers who slaughtered a rare white buffalo calf for its skin. (White buffalo are exceptionally rare and represent a sacred omen to some Native Americans.) I know, bad news happens every day. And yes, I know I still have a lot to be thankful for, even if this week's been crappy. But telling yourself to "count your blessings" isn't always effective therapy. You know what IS effective therapy?

Kittens.

The hubby and I are considering adopting these two cuties. Originally, we were thinking of just adopting the tortoise shell one, but the little orange tabby took a liking to my husband, and I think the feeling was mutual. The two are so lively and sweet and play so well together, it's tempting not to separate them. After a few hours of playing with these ridiculously adorable creatures, all the problems of my week seemed to vanish. It was quite nice.