Putting the "Too Many" in "Too Many Cooks"

Everyone warned us that once we had kids, Captain would be kicked to the bottom of the totem pole, and though I swore it wouldn't happen - of course it has. Has he *always* been this annoying, or was I just able to overlook it before because I didn't have a hundred other things on my plate? He picks at the new furniture, darts outside and tries to flee every chance he gets (we were out running through our neighbours' back yards with flashlights in hand a few nights ago), and every morning when we come downstairs there are distinctive cat-shaped footprints all over the countertops. Arrrrgh. At the old house, he earned his keep by catching the errant bats that found their way in over the years. At the new house, I am *hoping* he won't need to contribute like that. (Did I mention, though, that we had a snake on our patio a couple of weeks ago? I was all set to move out, but our neighbour assured me that he's never seen a snake on his property once in seven years - so we must have just gotten lucky.)

Chad and I were talking yesterday about the possibility of getting a dog. Once upon a time, I thought for sure we would get a dog when we got a bigger house. Now, I can't even fathom the idea, and there is not one bone of puppy longing in my body. Maybe, if Captain were to one day retire to the Golden Catnip Field in the Sky, I would consider something very small and very quiet. Like a King Charles Spaniel. Then again, I still remember what it was like when my parents got their last dog, when I was about 15... the pee puddles around the house... the brand new couch that got chewed up... Christmas presents under the tree that met the same fate. And then I think, yeah. Maybe we'll just get a goldfish instead.